East Coast Slaver Organization Story – IV

Chapter 10 – Demonstration in the Arena (or They Meet Again)

Marshall Thompson smoothly rolled his right leg off his saddle and slipped lightly to the ground on the left side of Wind Dancer, his eight-year-old gelding. While some of his other employees liked to use golf carts and Jeeps to get around his extensive ranch, Marshall preferred the old ways best. He had taken the day off and ridden part of the ranch fence line, occasionally stopping to tighten sections of wire or re-staple barbwire to fencepost. He tied Wind Dancer's reins to a steel hitching rail, ran his hand down his flank with words of thanks, and loosened the girth. The sun had just set outside but Marshall stood in the very middle of a brightly lit indoor arena at his Ponygirl Heaven Ranch training facilities.

Marshall turned to observe his guest, Joseph Loftus, dismount equally smoothly from one of the ranches other geldings, a fifteen-hand dunn. The two had ridden the ranch boundaries together for most of the day, getting to know each other. Marshall had been expecting the guest, but had known nothing about him until they got acquainted during the long ride. The CEO of the West Coast Slavers Organization, Steve Austin, had recommended that Joseph visit the ranch and get a demonstration. Until he arrived, Joseph had not known that the ranch he was visiting trained Ponygirls for various owners around the world. The two had laughed when Joseph had said Steve thought he might get some livestock ideas for his ranch in New Mexico when he visited PGHR. “You know Marshall ,” he laughed, “if I had visited just a few months ago I would have brought a girlfriend and maybe her sister. That would have been really embarrassing.” The two had laughed again. Marshall thought it odd that Steve Austin had arranged a visit without warning the client what he might see upon visiting.

While Marshall and Joseph had been relaxing on their long horseback ride and repairing any sections of broken fencing they encountered, Cliff Burns the Chief Trainer had taken charge of the day's work. Cliff's job had become much more difficult given that he now had to manage all the ranch workers, the training assistants, and the grooms since he no longer had Paula Laturno as Head Groom. Paula Laturno had been a key player and her absence was felt. The current ranch workers were all unskilled labor brought in for year-long stints through overseas contacts. The ranch kept six Filipino workers provided under a contract with Niarchos Constantinople, a rich Greek shipping magnate with a weakness for beautiful slaves. The workers were obedient and discrete, especially given that they were restricted to the ranch itself during the entire year of their contract service. Their families were extremely happy with the arrangement that handsomely paid, at least in terms of a second-world nation, a monthly salary provided through Niachos Constantinople. The men's families had no idea that their sons, brothers, and husbands handled beautiful women every day and were occasionally allowed sexual use of the fit and trim livestock. The best of the workers were often offered fulltime laborer positions onboard one of Niachos' tramp freighters.

Marshall and Joseph sat down on a section of aluminum observation bleachers and Marshall noted that Cliff was nearly ready with his racers. Marshall knew that Cliff had spent the day frantically getting the arena, the livestock, and racing equipment ready for the upcoming race and demonstration. They had decided to use the occasion to install some extra competitive spirit among his livestock. “After all,” he thought, “they better learn that their pleasure is at an owner's whim and not from the tongue of some slut they are lying with.” While the two men waited for the event to begin, they opened icy cold bottles of beer handily stashed in a cooler under the bleachers.

Joseph was a little taken aback at the sight of two recently arrived sluts hitched naked in tandem in front of a four-foot-wide section of chain harrow. Filthy and unkempt beyond what a typical American could ever imagine for a fellow human, they were straining to keep the harrow moving in the soft sandy cover of the arena floor. A little cloud of dust followed their progress, hurried along by an ugly squat Filipino flicking a whip handily at their naked rumps as he sauntered beside them. His mostly toothless grin of enjoyment and lust bespoke his attitude toward the women.

The arena floor had long since developed a perfectly manicured, raked look. The two helpless women were simply continuing their grueling, body-building task, deeply tracing in the course of the temporary track; all as part of their rough break in period to the life of an animal without rights.

Marshall explained to Joseph that three nameless cunts had been at the training facility less than a week. The two in the ring belonged to a couple that purchased the sluts raw and untrained. They were paying for a complete training regime that could last for up to six months. They were the type livestock Marshall preferred to train at Ponygirl Heaven Ranch, ones with no identities or limits placed upon their handling. The only thing Marshall knew about their prior lives was that one of the young women had still been a virgin upon her arrival.

A third, equally filthy woman currently loading and hauling manure in the horse stables had arrived at the nearly the same time from another owner. Because of a failure to become fully subservient, the house / pussy slut was placed at the ranch on consignment by her angry owner. The owner's only specification for training the slut was to fully break her will while converting her to a Ponygirl. She was being supervised by one of the most cold-hearted Filipino's. He had already thrown her stinking form across a wheelbarrow and surreptitiously ravaged her cunt while nobody was looking his way.

Since Paula's conversion to livestock status, Cliff Burns had developed an incentive plan to better control the foreign workers. Nightly he threw one white and five black marbles into one of the workers' filthy straw hats. The ecstatic worker that drew the black marble spent the night frolicking unsupervised in the stables relegated for exclusive use of the lowest of the livestock, the three currently undergoing the most remedial of training to simply build strength, stamina, and obedience. The newest arrivals had been raped every night by a different Filipino. Not bathed or cleaned since their arrival, they were filthy and smelly beyond belief. The men didn't care, all they wanted was a mouth, a pussy, or an asshole to pleasure their aching dicks. The three women had already learned to fake their enthusiasm and satisfy their tormentors as fast as possible to minimize the ordeal.

At one end of the open-sided arena, a starting line had been constructed and three racing surreys were lined up as preparations neared completion for the coming race event. Marshall 's eyes traced the path the racing surreys would follow. Within fifty feet of the starting area, the runners would enter the arena proper and proceed in a generally clockwise manner around the outer edges of the arena. He paused to better appreciate the series of barricades alone the return side of the oblong track. Constructed of heavy sections of Mesquite trunks and logs, reinforced with a thorny overlay of fresh-cut branches, the three major lines of obstacles would force the racers to weave drastically on that leg of the course. The course ends were long sweeping turns that led into the long initial straight stretch or the weaving return side. All told, the covered portion of the arena was fully one hundred meters by one hundred-fifty meters, covering a course of five hundred and fifty meters, 0.33 miles.

Cliff Burns was nearly ready. He looked to his three teams of Ponygirls. Position number one was held by the matched set of blonde Ponygirls, Anna and Becky Sawyer. Their animal names of ‘One' and ‘Two' were prominent as black dyed faux brands of hair on the permanently shaved sides of their heads and above their juicy pussies. He had decided to handle this team himself. At thirty-seven and thirty-one, these two women had developed into speedy and powerful runners despite being older than any of the unwilling livestock the ranch normally trained. “They are also the most enthusiastic fucks I've ever seen go through this ranch,” he grinned to himself as his dick swelled in appreciative remembrance of the nice guilt-free fucks they had provided. The two well-trained Ponygirls stood silently as Cliff ran a calloused hand across their forms. He ran his fingers down their blonde Mohawks, across their muscular spines, and through each of their long blonde tails, protruding proudly from their rumps as part of inflatable butt plugs. Fully satisfied, he stepped away to examine the second team of Ponygirls.

The second team was comprised of the black-haired sisters Lisa and Lori Heath. Like Anna and Becky, they were part of a consignment sent by the East Coast Slaver Organization. They were now identified as ‘Three' and ‘Four'. Cliff and Marshall knew that both sets of matched Ponygirls were destined to be sold to the same buyer. Cliff wondered who would be lucky enough to get not only the thirty-something blondes, but the twenty-one year old identical twins ‘Three' and ‘Four'. He ran his hands over their perfectly coiffed and glistening black Mohawks and contrasted the look to the blonde Mohawks on the first matched set of sisters. Satisfied that bits, reins, and harness were in order, Cliff snuck a finger into each of the hairless twats of Lisa and Lori to confirm that they were already wet with anticipation. He never understood how, but he knew with certainty that any of the livestock he forced to become willing Ponygirls eventually developed an ability to come into ‘heat' when faced with any grueling Ponygirl task. He stood with a finger deep in each of the twins, swiveling his thumb across their clits. As expected, each stomped her right foot in response, their trained response to beg for sex. The movement elicited no jiggling response from their shapely thighs or breasts; these were lean, Grade AAA Ponygirls, virtually fat-free except for their fleshy breasts supported by a corset that came up to a shelf supporting only the bottoms of the oversize tits. Cliff nodded his acceptance of the team and the surrey to the Filipino driver who stood at the ready to mount up.

Cliff shook his head at the sight of the last mismatched set of Ponygirls. Even though these two had been worked hard running together as Ponygirls for the last several weeks, he didn't have much faith that they would even begin to provide much competition to the other Ponygirl teams. “God Damn!” he cursed, “this is a worthless looking set of Ponygirls. The only saving grace of this team is that at least they are brunettes. Their bodies are too mismatched to ever work together.” Cliff was right. Doctor Joan Miller had been delivered to the ranch slim, trim, and sexy but with virtually no muscle tone from her pampered city life. Her work associate and sometime lover, Aaron Clarke, had augmented the slim woman's tits from a B to a full C cup size. Cliff did grin remembering how he had taken the doctor in all three of her sexual holes. “I particularly like her hot, velvety rectum. What an ass!” he whispered.

At Cliff's words, spoken clearly enough for Joan to hear, she winched remembering the man's exuberant ravaging of her ass on several occasions. “He usually just ties off my reins and jams his cock into me,” she thought with disgust. Even though she actually became enormously aroused during each of her rapes, Cliff seldom lasted long enough to actually bring her to climax. “What a fool I was to ever trust slavers with my body and life,” she told herself for the thousandth time. She thought of the gold wedding ring on her left hand and added, “Can I trust these people to let me go if I succeed in passing Ponygirl testing so that I can progress to Ponygirl Mistress? Will Robert Morgan release me to my prior life back in Miami ? Did he set this up just to steal my wealth and sell me off as a slave?”

While Joan was considering her fate, Cliff grimaced at the last girl on the team, Paula Laturno, his ex-associate and previous Head Groom at the ranch. Given her special status, Cliff had yet to actually fuck the ex-associate. Truth be told, Cliff was in fact still afraid of the woman. Pretty enough, Paula was physically stronger than most men and could never be accused of being slim and beautiful. Her brea sts were too small and hard to meet the visual requirements of a triple A Ponygirl. Cliff grabbed her jaw and looked deep into her eyes, “Paula, you'll never win tonight. You're a decent sprinter but you will nev er be an endurance runner. The race tonight will be thirty grueling laps of .33 miles each for a total of 10.0 miles.”

Cliff Burns stepped back and beckoned the Filipino driver over for a private consultation. After a few whispered sentences, the driver grinned an evil smile and sprinted off to another part of the ranch. While the driver ran off to conduct his errands, Cliff disconnected the guide reins and pulled out the amateurish rubber bit that had been buckled around her head. With an admonishment to remain silent, Cliff turned to Joan and also removed her reins and rubber bit.

The first two sets of Ponygirls had graduated to having permanent bits with bronze shanks that extended through the middle section of dental bridges installed on the lower rear of their mouths. The front bar of the shank came forward outside of their teeth to a point parallel to their canine teeth. The middle of the shank had a cutout that accepted various spoons that pressured the girls' tongue. When the reins were pulled, the forward end of the bit would rotate down, distorting their lower lips and simultaneously the center of the shank with the spoon. The driver's control of the Ponygirls was absolute, depending upon the spoon chosen.

The Filipino driver returned breathless but holding a large leather satchel, two nylon lines, and a long extension cord. Cliff gestured for him to place the items behind the two Ponygirls on the surrey. The man unwound a length of line with a heavy carabineer at the end and tossed the weight up into the air and across a roof truss high overhead. Cliff grabbed the carabineer and moved over to Paula Laturno. “Stand still, bitch!” he hissed and slipped the heavy steel snaplink through her nose ring. Cliff grasped her chin tightly and aligned her head, nose high. At a signal to the driver, the Filipino pulled down on the nylon line and tightened it up, bringing the woman to her tiptoes.

Paula whimpered in fear and pain, trying to keep her balance. From personal experience handling many Ponygirls roughly, she knew the surgically emplaced grommets in her nose could probably hold a woman's entire weight. She was not eager to test that probability out. The taut line was already giving her significant pain.

Cliff and the Filipino driver soon had Joan Miller in similar bondage. Marshall had grown curious about the delay and radioed across the large arena to Cliff. He and Joseph were satisfied with the Chief Trainer's response that he was dissatisfied with the last team and was changing their hair style to better match the other teams. Marshall explained that the blonde team and the black-haired team belonged to East Coast Slavers Organization and were the ones that Robert and Steve wanted Joseph to watch working out. “The last team,” he explained, “are actually temporary Ponygirls. One is being punished for poor performance as my Head Groom and the other actually volunteered for this. Unfortunately for her, unless she does well today, she won't graduate from Ponygirl until some other test in the future.” He clinked his beer with Joseph and added with a grin, “That test might be months away. The only other Ponygirls we have in stock now are the three that just arrived this week. It will be months before they are ready for Ponygirl graduation testing.”

The Chief Trainer and the Filipino had already stuffed a spongy ballgag into each woman's mouth and then unraveled the long ponytails atop their heads. Each of the women whimpered and lightly pranced about in a vain attempt to escape what they expected to occur next. Cliff switched the electric clippers on and neatly made a pass down the side of Joan's head, removing her long hair in big swaths. Moments later, Paula was clipped in a similar manner, each with a brunette Mohawk now atop their head. Cliff took a new disposable razor and a can of shaving foam from the Filipino and went to work cleaning up what the clipper had just started. Joan and Paula soon sported shiny white skin below their Mohawks. With a ruler, Marshall trimmed the Mohawks so that no hair was longer than ten inches.

Cliff beckoned the two other drivers to take their Ponygirls on a slow walk through the course as a warm up. He needed another fifteen minutes to finish his work on the least of his Ponygirls. Cliff was somewhat offended that he had been directed to move the two brunettes up to Ponygirl status.

Marshall and Joseph grinned at the drastic changes that the Chief Trainer had made in the last set of Ponygirls. Their new Mohawks now stood proudly above their heads, coated in a heavy layer of grooming wax. At the starting gate were a blonde set, a black-haired set, and the newly groomed girls with their garish clown-red Mohawks. Marshall grinned over at Joseph and said, “Cliff even dyed their pussy hair the same color. Course, they only have a little patch above their cunts. We keep all livestock with permanently hairless pussy lips.”

Joan seethed at what Cliff had done to her. She was scared shitless that this meant she was going to be permanently converted to livestock. Her nose still hurt from the awful yanking that it had just been subjected to. Her jaws now also ached from the widely extended position that the ringgag had been cranked to. Joan's eyes were still tearing from the painful way Cliff had yanked her nose ring when attaching her reins.

“You two aren't good enough to even use a rubber bit on,” he had gruffly told them, “let alone the bronze bits used by the other girls. So, … your driver will steer you with nose and titty reins. By the way, … he will also be using a heavy whip on you rather than a carriage whip like you are used to.” Cliff had then added, “Paula, you'll never win at this run. But, to give you a little bit better chance, … I've told your driver to be merciless with the whip. He's to whip you as much as he wants, with no repercussions.” With that said, he held each woman by the nose and brutally spanked each butt cheek with resounding slaps. “Driver,” he said, “walk these two through the course once on a familiarization run.”

Fifteen minutes later, the three teams of Ponygirls were stomping their feet at the starting line, trying to keep themselves fully limber before their arduous race. Cliff held a microphone to his lips and spoke clearly in the chilling evening air, “Drivers, I want to remind you of the rules. Passing is only allowed on the straight-away portion of the track. The race is thirty laps or ten miles. The winning driver gets to move into a private bungalow for the next month where he will have full and exclusive use every night of the losing team of Ponygirls. I don't have to remind everyone that all these girls are Prime Pieces of Pussy flesh and will make fabulous bedmates. Ponygirls, you should be smart enough to realize what this means to the losing team. The second place team will be responsible for washing down and pampering the first place team every night for the next month. They will also be pussy chained to the winners every night in the barn. Thus the winning team will be pampered and sexually serviced every night. Also, both the second and third place teams will be whipped soundly tonight after the race.”

Cliff moved to the blonde team of Ponygirls and stepped up onto the surrey and swung himself into his seat. He was fairly confident that he would win the race even though he was not driving the best team. It was probable that the Heath twins, at twenty-one, should be both fastest and have the most stamina during the long race. However, Cliff was certain that his far greater skill at driving would overcome the slight handicap that he faced. Despite his displeasure at having to work with Joan and Paula, he was willing to try and make the race easier.

With a shouted countdown from Three, to Two, to One, Marshall pushed to button on his air horn, signaling the start of the race.

Moments before, Paula and Joan had exchanged a special look between them. After being lovers and running mates for weeks, they each knew the other's thoughts. “I'm gonna win this race,” Joan Miller told herself with determination. “Even if they keep me a Ponygirl, “I'll show them what we can do. Paula will help and I know she wants to beat Cliff and the other Ponygirls.”

All six Ponygirls leapt forward at the loud blowing of the air horn. Before the echoes came back from the desert night, all three teams were racing forward. Cliff immediately set the carriage whip he had into play, well before the other inexperienced Filipinos even regained their balance from the rapidly accelerating Ponygirls. The snapping tip of his whip struck Anna, then Becky in rapid tempo on their outthrust rumps, marking each with the first of thousands of red blotches to come. He struck again and again as he shouted, “Heiyah! Heiyah! Canter girls, … canter!”

Joan leapt forward quickly when she heard the horn. She and Paula desperately wanted to gain the lead before they hit the first turn. It was almost one hundred eighty meters to the turn. Joan saw that the blondes had already moved a full cart length ahead of them and the pace was slowly widening. “Holy Shit!” she shouted to herself, “they are setting a blistering pace.” Joan and Paula stretched their strides and leaned forward to get more leverage with each step. She saw that the blondes were no longer extending their lead. Thundering footsteps were just behind them. With some horror, she saw that the younger twins were now getting into the race and pulling up beside them. Her back exploded in pain as her driver inexpertly swung his heavy whip across their backs. Astonishingly, she found an unused reserve and their surrey pulled up slightly as Cliff's team swung into the first turn.

The Filipino behind them sawed hard on the reins and pulled Joan and Paula into the turn. Joan's nose and right boob instantly ached as the right nose rein and right nipple rein were tugged upon too strongly by the unseasoned driver. Not used to racing so quickly on turns, all three felt the surrey skew wildly to the side, coming close to overturning. The lurching of the surrey as they moved into the turns was a reminder that thirty laps of this type course would be far harder than a simple desert run. “This race will not be won in the first circuit,” Joan told herself grimly. They slowed slightly in the bruising, difficult turns of the return leg. Paula's strength came to bear in holding the surrey to a consistent speed in the turns as she took the brunt of the dragging pull from the surrey and driver's weight. Joan noted that the lead team, while blisteringly fast on the straightaway, were not rugged enough to handle the steep turns and the resulting strain on the Ponygirls. Joan also thought that the black-haired girls had dropped back slightly on the return leg.

Joan managed her rising heartbeat with even breaths and a carefully maintained pace. She knew that she had to hold steady for the next hour or so. Unable to take her eyes from the deceptive course for an instant, she nonetheless felt her muscles loosening up and she gloried in the feelings that coursed through her body. Her boobs felt fine, supported as they were by the stiff shelf under them built into her corset; however her nipple rings ached a little already from the driver's heavy hand. She slightly adjusted her body angle to better apply her strength to hauling the surrey and felt the heat already building in her loins. “Yesss,” she told herself as her brea th whooshed in and out of her ringgag, “I can feel my pussy leaking juices already. If I ever get out of this, I want to take Robert on a picnic and have him fuck me senseless after I go on a long run. Ohhh, yesss.” The mini orgasm hit her just as they started into the second lap.

Joseph and Marshall were standing up in the bleachers and hollering the runners on. Earlier when the girls made their initial walk through of the course, Marshall and Joseph selected teams they thought would win the race and placed a five thousand dollar bet. Marshall had chosen the younger, black-haired twins and Joseph had selected the beautiful blondes. They each agreed that they would share the post race fuck rights and take the winning team right in the winner's circle, while the Ponygirls were still overheated and eager for sexing.

Even though Joseph had never considered the possibility of owning Ponygirls, he admitted to himself that the thought was intriguing. He was especially interested when Marshall told him that there was quite an underground following of Ponygirl races. Amateurs and professionals alike took part in regional races at various ranches throughout the United States . “Some of the Ponygirls are volunteers and really get into the lifestyle. Often, it's impossible to tell them from the slaves that have become Po nystock unwillingly.” Joseph liked the idea of openly using unwilling livestock in private competitions where few would realize that true slaves were present. Marshall told him that these events were attended strictly by invitation only, even though the events were actually quite legal. Most Ponygirls that appeared in public were so well trained and brainwashed that if confronted by police would support their owner's story about them being voluntary Ponygirls. “Otherwise,” Marshall had explained, “smart owners establish paperwork where they can blackmail their Ponygirls into claiming volunteer status.”

By the tenth lap, Joan and Paula were solidly in third place. The first two teams were vying for first place, jockeying back and forth as each straightaway was reached. Joan and Paula had fallen back by six to seven lengths and were able to conserve a little bit more of their strength by sticking to a consistent and even pace while the lead teams fought amongst themselves for first place. Joan's driver must have realized why his girls were fighting against his rein and whip commands. He actually had stopped giving corrections and instead focused on keeping the surrey balanced on the turns and shouting warnings to his team about upcoming obstacles and the location of the other surreys. Thus, while the three surreys stayed about the same distance apart, Joan and Paula were actually maintaining their pace much more easily.

Joseph was the first to figure out what was happening. Earlier, they had both laughed when the Filipino driving the garish redheads had stopped forcing his team faster and accepted that they were stuck in third place. Both ranchers were excited that their teams were already assured of either first or second place. Joseph was looking forward to sticking his already throbbing cock into some blonde pussy. Their classic looks and big meaty boobs on their slim runner's frames made them mouthwatering. He was still sure that his team was going to win. Then, on the twenty-second lap, one of the blonde Ponygirls stumbled momentarily and the black-haired team barely avoided a collision. In the confusion, the redheads eased into first without changing their pace at all. Joseph thumped Marshall on the back and said, “They're sandbagging the race, Marshall ! The crafty redheads are saving strength with an even pace while the others keep wasting energy fighting each other. The redheads are gonna win. They don't even need a driver.”

Marshall Thompson had stared in amazement at the swift change in standings. However, what he saw on the next straightaway convinced him that Joseph was wrong. He saw the black-haired team sweep back into first with a stunning sprint. His vehement disagreement with Joseph's assessment triggered another betting session. Joseph agreed to pay an additional five thousand if he lost. But, Marshall was taunted into agreeing to lend Joseph the redheads for one week at Ponygirl Heaven Ranch if they won. Immediately Marshall was sorry for making the bet. He had permission to make such decisions for Joan, but he didn't want to press his luck with angering Robert Morgan the slaver.

After the twenty-second lap when the Heath twins had blown by her, Joan was of mixed feelings about their plan. The positive side was that she was sure the younger girls were breathing far harder than she and Paula. On the other hand, she wasn't sure that she could keep enough reserve to last her through the final five or so laps. “We have to be strong for the last mile and a half,” she thought. That should give us enough of a sprint to overtake them and to blow their last reserve as we sprint.” The exertion and thrill of the race had brought her cunt to a full boil. Joan felt both cunt juice and sweat roll down her inner thighs. “I need a fuck so bad!” she sang to herself. “I need a fuck so bad!” Joan repeated the mantra as her way of setting her rhythm. She decided that the plan might work after all. On the next straightaway, she risked a glance over at Paula and saw the look reciprocated. “Hesss,” she hissed as loud as she could into the ringgag. She knew Paula understood and that they were keeping with the original plan.

By the twenty-fifth lap, Marshall was sure his team was going to win. The blonde team had remaining in second place, unable to pass on the last three straightaways and the redheads were still in third place. He was surprised that Joseph didn't agree about the black team winning.

“No Marshall ,” Joseph disagreed with some excitement, “the redheads will win and the blondes will get second place. Your team will be third. In this race, youth and superior Ponygirls and drivers will not win over better strategy. Face it, you've already lost.”

Marshall couldn't accept that his first place team would fall back to last during the five laps remaining. Deciding to humble this man with his greater knowledge of Ponygirls, he eagerly said, “OK, then! Put your money where your mouth is, … double or nothing.”

Joseph liked the idea of getting the winning red team for two weeks, but he wanted them for use at his New Mexico ranch. “OK, Marshall ,” he agreed, “but since it's two weeks, I want them at my ranch; and, that makes the bet twenty thousand dollars.”

At the beginning of the twenty-sixth lap, Joan and Paula looked at each other simultaneously and each shouted, “Howwww!” With mutual consent, each noticeably picked up the pace, their driver became excited that he had read his girls right and he started to shout encouragement. In his excitement, he reverted to his native language; but Joan and Paula understood and slightly increased their sprint. They blew past the huffing blondes and made it to within feet of the lead surrey. They eased their pace slightly on the turns and focused on their next sprint for the upcoming straightaway.

Anna, Becky, and Cliff were taken by surprise when the redheads blew past them. They still hadn't responded by the time they hit the turn at the end of the straightaway. All three got adrenaline rushes and Cliff fueled his team on by lashing them dozens of times during the winding turns. They felt success was still at hand, especially since the three surreys were now within mere feet of each other.

Their Filipino driver warned them that the blondes had sprinted up to within inches of his butt. He was savvy enough to note that blonde team's stride was breaking up and that their breathing was labored compared to his girls; he carefully explained what he had observed without allowing the other drivers or Ponygirls to overhear his observation.

The black team's contentment with their lead position evaporated when the redheads sprinted beside them just yards into the twenty-seventh lap. Their dismay become panic when the blondes pulled up on the other side of them. The race proceeded neck and neck down the straightaway. However, neither the blondes nor the blacks could increase their pace any more.

Joan felt fire flowing through her body. It was fiery strength and a feeling of invulnerability rather than fatigue. She shouted, “Howww,” again into her ringgag and felt Paula struggle to increase her speed. Joan heard the heavy whip crack and Paula hopped forward to pick up her share of the load. Joan was relieved that the driver realized that she didn't need the painful correction. His shouted encouragement was almost unnoticed as they whipped past the struggling black team and leapt into the curve. Joan felt the surrey follow them smoothly into the twisting turns. The fire in her veins seemed especially hot in her aching cunt. “Hoo, huck hee,” she shouted aloud in gagspeak.

Paula heard her partner shriek aloud for a fuck and grinned around her ringgag as best she could. Joan's begging brought to mind a mental image of Paula's bitch buster cock driving deep into a submissive Joan's pussy. “I bet I can make her howl for mercy,” she thought with an evil grin as her stride lengthened. The whip crack across her ass had really hurt, but she knew it had given her additional strength and focus for the last laps.

Marshall finally accepted that Joseph's assessment about the redheads was right. He turned to his new friend and offered congratulations while the Ponygirls were still thundering through the last of the twenty-seventh lap.

Marshall still had one more surprise coming. When the surreys hit the straightaway on the twenty-eighth lap, the redheads sprinted again and quickly pulled ahead even more. However, the black-haired twins were unable to sprint and only barely maintained the fast steady pace they used in the curves. As Joseph had predicted, the blondes stepped up their pace and swung past the youngest girls, settling into second place. As the twenty-eight lap came to an end, the redheads and blondes were in first and second with the Heath twins slowly losing ground.

The twenty-ninth lap saw no changes in placement in the order which remained reds, blondes, and blacks. When the lead surreys moved into the next to last lap, Marshall and Joseph remained standing united in their support for the underdog team; yelling and screaming to encourage the redheads to move ahead.

Joan felt more invigorated and alive than ever in her life. As the straightaway approached, she and Paula began to sprint as they left the last return curve. Their driver's whip cracked loudly over their heads as he shouted for them to focus and keep the pace. They drew several lengths ahead of the second-place blondes. The black-haired twins were unable to sprint at all during that entire lap, and they fell furth er behind, solidly into third place. Their driver's shouts of frustration at losing his expected first place win and the pussy rights his dick had already begun to dream about using.

Joan and Paula's Filipino driver's excitement level rose so noticeably high as they moved into the last lap that the newly dyed redheads knew they were going to win. That extra excitement spurred them to an even greater sprint forward. Unbeknownst to them, the blondes did summon some sort of reserve strength from somewhere, maybe because Cliff was brutalizing their backs with his light carriage whip. Even so, second place became further and furth er behind the still sprinting lead team.

As the finish line came into sight, Joan and Paula were still able to maintain their sprinting finish. They blew through the tape that one of the Filipinos hastily stretched across the line, easily twenty lengths ahead of the blondes. The black-haired twins were almost three-quarters of a lap behind the winning team and upon crossing the line, they immediately collapsed, vomiting in exhaustion, mere feet beyond the line. Their driver had barely been able to brake his surrey to keep from running them over.

Cliff kept his team moving for a final slowdown lap. He grudgingly admitted to himself that the team still smoothly moving in front of him had won the race because they were actually skilled Ponygirls rather than by some fluke of luck. He actually envied the ugly Filipino the time of bliss he would have with the Heath twins. “Bet they've never spread their Ivy League legs for a lowly working stiff like him. Hmmm,” he thought with a grin, “I might be tempted to ask Marshall to give the lucky bastard some recreational drugs. He could nail those two relentlessly for hours if someone spiked his drink with a dose of Viagra.” Cliff laughed and brought his attention back to his own beautiful team of Ponygirls. He already knew that the first place Ponygirls were going to get the personal attention of the owner and his guest. Cliff's fat cock throbbed at the thought of slipping his dick into the hot blonde bitches pulling his surrey. “Yes, indeed,” he thought with glee, “there is nothing better than this in life. This is fucking great!”

By the time Joan slowed her sprint to a smooth trot and eventually to a walk, she was already well into the curvy section of the course. She and Paula were able to exchange glances that clearly showed their mutual excitement in winning the race. They were used to the stupid look that their filthy dusty faces had when subjected to the obscene ringgag and the clean streaks left by the drool that flowed out of each corner of their mouths. Joan felt a physical glow over her entire being. She realized for the first time just how well her body had responded to the training. Since all six women had been forced to undergo the same rigid training regime, she attributed the difference to good genes. “Good genes or no,” she thought, “if I don't get fucked soon, I'll start humping the surrey wheels.” Deciding to misbehave a little, she swung her Mohawk topped head back toward the driver and loudly spoke through her ringgag, “Hi heeda huck, Hi heeda huck!”

For the first time in many laps, she felt the driver yank on her reins, her nose painfully aligning her face forward once again and her boobs stretched in retaliation. A line of fire exploded across first one, then the other ass cheek; she heard the driver clearly say, “Behave girls, you're still on display. We'll all get laid soon. Thanks to you, I'll be getting lots of slutty white whore pussy.”

She realized that the driver was right. A veritable orgy was going to take place any minute. Regardless of the race outcome, she had heard Marshall assigning one of the Filipinos the task of setting up the celebratory barbeque and arranging for food from the main ranch building. The other Filipinos had been abuzz about the evening picnic and fuck fest. The three lowly pig girls were already bathed and neck chained naked to mattresses in front of the men's bunkhouse. Cameras and lights were already set up to record the marathon sex event to provide fodder for humiliating the women in the future. The six Filipinos would have unrestricted access to the three lowly cunts for the rest of the night. Barrels of ice and beer along with steaks, potatoes, and salad guaranteed that all would have fun. The pig girls would only eat what the men provided, probably only a diet of unending cum. Since the girls and the workers had been cleared of any sexual disease, management had given one-time permission for bare cocks to be used. The women would have slimy jism dumped everywhere on their now clean bodies. The winning driver would gain access to his personal team of cunts, the Heath twins, beginning the next evening.

Joan's driver directed their surrey to a concrete wash stand just outside the covered arena. The losing team had already been washed down and groomed, black Mohawks restyled in vertical splendor. The Heath girls stood docilely in place, anchored by overhead chains clipped to their nose rings, and their bodies glowing with health. Their wrists were snapped to their waist belts, leaving them virtually naked and unable to resist close inspection. Except for the control collars, waist belt, and wrist cuffs, they were naked. The Filipinos raced over to Cliff's second place team and efficiently unharnessed the two blondes. Dripping soapy sponges flew over the taut flesh and fluffy towels vigo rously rubbed their skin dry. The Sawyer girls' nose rings were soon clipped to hanging chains, displaying their naked charms about fifteen feet away from the black-haired team.

Joan's Filipino driver angrily chased off any assistance. He insisted upon grooming his own team after their amazing run. Joan's feet were relieved when one by one her lower legs were lifted and her sweaty shoes and socks were removed. The man's fingers loosening her corset felt wonderful. She actually sighed in passion when his strong hands took possessive control of her fat boobs and squeezed her flesh. When his hands swept down her trim sides to her prominent pussy mound, Joan's knees actually buckled momentarily. She was actually panting in lust when her nose was yanked up to the hanging chain, hoping beyond hope that he would play with her pussy some more. She twisted about on her tiptoes to watch Paula getting the same efficient de-harnessing.

The soapy sponge felt heavenly as the squat driver sluiced away the accumulated grime and sweat that covered her body. Joan once again sighed in audible lust when the driver's fingers took advantage of her bound position to grope about her pussy and ass. “Yes,” she moaned to herself, “there are rewards for doing well.” She sighed and enjoyed the grooming. All too soon, she was dry and her ruined hair waxed back up in a bright and humiliating red Mohawk.

--- To Be Continued ---