She feels her feet being grabbed and returned to the hoof boots, which now have harness bells attached to the lacing just below her knees.

She is caught off guard by the expanding bit gag being pushed back into her mouth, taking the front of the hoodwink in with it. The sound of the first click warns Cathy that the thing is about to be cranked open, trapping it's self behind her teeth.

She fights the bit with all she has but it opens wide, stretching her mouth with mechanical surety.

A finger comes and greases her behind and suddenly she is again tailed, this one weighing more and seeming to be supporting some kind of a stiffener that holds the tail up and bouncing with her every step or movement. The dildo goes in like an old friend, rattling away inside her as if there were no end to its power supply. Instead of the clip on her clitoris to keep the dildo inside her they use a length of leather thong tied around her waist and both ends then drawn down through her dripping sex, the thongs passing through a ring on the dildo and a hole in the base of the tail. Lastly come the three harness bells mounted on toothy clamps that take and hold her already sore nipples and clit.

Unhooked from the tether and walked forward, she can feel the tail standing up so high it tickles her sacral dimples.

When they march Cathy out of the stable she's high stepping like she's been in training for a year, her five harness bells bouncing merrily, her tail high and perfectly framing her bare bottom. There comes a rising crescendo of cheering and applause from all around her. A wave of pure emotion sweeps through Cathy. Never in her life has she felt so proud, so sexy, so ready.

It is an hour later. Cathy stands tied to the fence of the loser's broodmare coral. She can barely move because they have lashed her arms out along the top rail. Her head hangs down in exhausted defeat. Her boots, tail, harness, bells, dildo and hoodwink are all gone, leaving only the painted over goggles to keep her captor's secrets. She senses other women behind her but when she tries to speak to them she gets only gag garbled grunts in return.

She curses herself for folding up like that, ahead by a length, coming down the home stretch in a flat out sprint coming like a ditch pump, then suddenly running dry, her legs turning to rubber, stumbling, slowing and feeling herself falling, her bound arms unable to protect her forehead from the raked earth of the track.

She hears the coral gate open and footsteps walking up in the dirt behind her.

"Ever been caned my dear?" Asks the Englishman, taking Cathy's right breast into his hand and squeezing it lightly, his thumb caressing her still sensitive nipple. "Ever bend over a hitching rail and receive three of the best?" From the excited stir that comes from the women in the coral behind her, Cathy gathers he's not talking about anything she is going to enjoy. So why does my pussy suddenly feel so empty? She thinks, feeling a hot flush sweeping up her body.

The Englishman's hand slips down Cathy's front, finding and exploring her still engorged, freshly fucked pussy." He whispers, his breath hot against her flushed cheek. "You are excited by the thought of the cane aren't you darling?" Now his voice catches with his suppressed lust. "Yes! Feel how wet you are." Two of his long slim fingers slide up into Cathy's vulva finding and massaging her G spot, reminding her that she hasn't peed for a very long time. "You intentionally lost this afternoon, didn't you, you little pain slut?" Cathy shakes her head, afraid to speak but trying to deny what she knows to be the truth.

Cathy feels her arms being untied, leaving her goggles her only remaining bondage. She resists the urge to take them off and sprint for the horizon, fearing punishment and still clinging to the hope that she will be released when this nightmare is over.

A firm but gentle hand takes her elbow and walks her forward a few paces before stopping her at a smooth wooden rail that touches across her lower tummy. "Assume the position if you please." He orders, his tone again one of complete authority. "Just bend down over the rail in front of you and hold still, I'll attach the restraints."

Cathy does as ordered, hoping for mercy from this obviously insane Englishman. She discovers that there are rope nooses already tied to the rail's support posts and once her hands are tied down she can do nothing to stop him tying each of her ankles out to the support posts as well.

By this time a crowd has formed to watch a Master at work. Cathy can hear their obscene comments and suggestions. She moans deep in her throat and tries to prepare herself for the coming pain.

Something slim and wicked whistles past her up-thrust rump, making her struggle and thrash in sudden panic, trying to find escape when she knows there will be none.

It whistles again, this time slicing into her bottom at nearly the speed of sound.

And sound she does, like a whale diving to the deeps she dives into her passion bunker. It's the only place she has to hide from the explosion of pain in her bottom.

His lordship stands and waits, giving her time to get where she needs to be, then swishes a second stripe into Cathy's butt, this one two inches below the first.

Cathy hears gag garbled screams of lust all around her as the other brood mares listen to her caning. After the third cut slices in, marking both her bottom cheeks and her swollen labia, she joins them, her screams lusty and full, unhindered by a gag.

Then it is over and Cathy discovers herself being fucked, his lordship's hands kneading her burning bottom even as the pleasures of his thrusting cock seem to magically modify the pain within her. As he knows from long experience, the slave state of her mind protects her, gives her shelter from the pain by covering it in a flood of purest passion.

* * *

When he has gone her three captors come and take her away, her every painful step bringing back the moment of the cane's final impact, that awful moment when her labia first felt the cane's bite. She is walked to a blanket, fed, watered and zipped into a sleeping bag, a set of four saddle leather restraints locking her hands together behind her back, her ankles hobbled too close for anything save hopping, her ass and vulva again stretched around their respective plugs. She is glad of these last two items because they told her it was to protect her, that the other revelers would honor their wishes, it was like a throbbing pair of no trespassing signs.

Cathy, safe, warm and completely exhausted, rolls onto her tummy and goes to sleep.

When she wakes she is cold. Gone is her snug sleeping bag. Everything is wrong. Then, like a bolt from the blue, she realizes that she can actually see. What she sees is an empty expanse of desert, lit by a rising last quarter moon. Gone are the tail and dildo, gone are the padlocks they'd used to fasten her cuffs together.

Also gone are the sights, sounds and smells of a drunken crowd camping all around her.

Instead she is shivering in the cold, chained by the neck to a steel stake driven deep into the huge flat rock upon which she's been lying.

There is no one in sight. There is nothing in sight in any direction. The moonlit desert stretches out to every point of the compass, offering a million shadowed hiding places for her kidnapper or kidnappers as the case may be.

After a while she moves to the down hill side of the rock, squats and pees.

She then stands up to the limit of her tether, which snubs her to an uncomfortable half crouch, trying to see someone, some hope of rescue. She sees nothing. There is nothing, except miles and miles of dusty dry landscape in all directions. She kneels and inspects the stake to which she is tethered, finding it driven deep into the center of a flat frying pan of rock. Driven so deep that it doesn't even wiggle. She looks at the heavy leather cuffs that remain padlocked around her ankles and wrists, sees the restraining rings, knows how helpless she will be if anyone decides to attach them together again.

Shivering in fear and cold she turns to the east, lies down and hugging her knees to try and retain her heat, begins to watch the coming daylight.

She wonders how long after sunrise she will begin to die.

* * *

Forty miles away the tenor wakes the contralto with a touch to her blanket covered shoulder. "Bubba took her. He and Cathy are both gone." He whispers, trying not to wake the baritone beside her.

"Good, she'll enjoy that." The contralto mumbles, cuddling closer with her bed mate.

The tenor grins down at his two partners and says, "So will we . . . So will we."

* * *

Dawn brings Cathy back to life. The sun is less than an hour up when she stops shivering. She knows that soon shivering will be the least of her worries. With the shortening shadows comes better vision . . . Not that there is anything to see. She is still alone. There is nothing but open desert for twenty miles in any direction.

She wonders why and comes to the conclusion that whoever is doing this to her plans to come and rescue her, hoping she will be enslaved to him by her ordeal. She's not sure it won't work.

* * *

Robert (Bubba) Henry lies under his blind, watching his captive through the viewfinder of his video camera. Less than fifty yards away, Cathy lies on the flat rock to which she is chained. He is careful not to make any noise as he records her ordeal. Behind him, hidden down in a dry wash, is his dog racing kennel truck, equipped with everything he needs to tame Cathy, his newest sex slave.

He knows he has nothing to worry about from his three friends back at the dude ranch. George, Bull and Gwen have, after all, been working with him for a long time.

It was he, after all, who'd sent them after Cathy in the first place. She's worked in his real estate agency for over a year, her good looks, cute body and perky personality selling more houses than any two of his other employees combined. He has been fantasizing about having her for a sex slave since that very first day, when she'd walked in and applied for the position as a sales agent. He remembers how his cock had stirred and grown down his pant leg, forcing him to quickly sit behind his desk in order to conceal his lust.

He remembers thinking, My God she's perfect!

For over a year he has lusted for her, trying not to touch her but desiring her so much that sometimes he could not stop himself in time. It wasn't just him, either. Watching Cathy carefully he realized that all men and dykes became putty in her presence. The only man who ever gave her the least challenge had been a man with a terrible cold.

From this Henry realized that she must be putting out fuck me pheromones like crazy.

But she never dated, as far as anyone could tell. There was the feeling of an impending volcano about Cathy. A sense that her drive for business success was nothing but re-channeled sex drive.

At the next Moll Flanders party he talked to his old friend El Jeffy, the private investigator from La Paz who rescued Moll and Jenny from the TV evangelist's castle.

That worthy spent a couple of days checking around and came up with the story that Cathy was apparently a celibate, living alone in a Venice Beach bungalow. A search of her place turned up a large collection of porn, dildos and self-bondage equipment.

After consulting Molly they decided to give her a try.

George Nakamura, Bull and Gwen were given the snatch because being from San Francisco there was less chance that she might know one of them if something went wrong.

And now she is his, body and soul. Or will be once the sun gets a little higher.

He watches as she again checks her tether chain, inspecting it link by link, checking the way it is attached to the iron post driven deep into the rock.

He chuckles softly as she stands up, sweeps the horizon from the half crouch the neck chain allows then moves to the downhill side of the rock to pee.

The camera has a close-up zoom that fills the screen with her shaved pussy spraying the rock between her widely spread feet. He smiles to think how much money it will bring into her coffers this video is shown on Moll Flanders' website.

She tries to sit but winces as her striped bottom begins to take her weight.

She lies down on her face and starts to cry, making him resolve to get up and "Rescue" her . . . In about an hour.

* * *

The beginning...