As the wagon stopped, the attendants were already placing a stool for the women to step down on. Once again each woman returned to her room and recuperated from her exertions. The mood was decidedly grim as the usual time elapsed and they waited nervously to be summoned for the next contest. The fact that Claire seemed to be studying them more than usual did nothing to alleviate their fears. They were not to be disappointed. Within a few weeks they were summoned as usual for the next competition. Oddly enough, they were not restrained this time and tended to lounge in the back of the wagon rather than try to sit up straight as they usually did when their arms were otherwise bound.
This contest was especially creative. The women were drawn to a large warehouse structure by the now eight well trained pony girls. Once inside, each woman was required to remove her leotard, bend over and place her hands on her knees. She was then instructed to not move or cry out. A well lubed air bulb was inserted into each woman’s rectum, along with a hose attachment. Each woman could feel the lubricant running down between her anus and vagina, as the attendants seemed to take more than a passing interest in making sure they were well lubed. They felt the air bulb slipping in against the natural resistance, only to pop in place as it passed their sphincter muscle. Walking awkwardly over to a painted square, each woman had to kneel down and her wrists were cuffed to her ankles. A spreader bar was locked in place, keeping their legs separated by a generous amount. Finally, each hose attachment was connected to a compressed air system.
"I am going to administer a small amount of air, in equal amounts simultaneously to each of you. The first two who can no longer take the pain, or cross over the painted lines, are the losers and we will be down to three contestants. Let’s begin."
Claire adjusted a valve and the hissing sound of air filled the room. Each of the remaining women immediately began to squirm, intense discomfort written all over their faces as the air bulb expanded within them. Shutting off the valve, Claire studied them and enjoyed their discomfort. When it looked as if they had regained control of themselves, she administered more air. This went on for several hours until all of the women were in agony and squirming on their own painted floor squares. Finally tiring of the exercise, Claire gave the valve several turns then, and immediately one of the women began screaming around her gag. Flopping furiously in pain, the red headed woman fell forward onto her stomach and pulled furiously at the restraints with her fingers as she rolled across the painted lines of her square. Ignoring her, Claire smiled evilly as she gave the valve another turn. At this point, another woman could no longer take it and writhed uncontrollably in pain, staring at Claire and shaking her head pitifully. Content, Claire disconnected the air lines from Abigail, Tabitha, and a brunette named Heather. The remaining women were left to their agony, the attendants standing maliciously over them and enjoying the spectacle. The three non-losers stared at the contorted twisting bodies of the incoherently screaming women as the doors of the warehouse closed behind them. Idly they each wondered how long the attendants would wait to disconnect the air hoses. Unseen by the non-losers was the fact that not only did the attendants not immediately release the women, they administered even more air. They especially enjoyed the spectacle of the two totally nude women screaming in uncontrolled agony as they writhed on the cold concrete floor.
The next few weeks were spent indulging themselves yet again. They were the final three contestants, and had no idea what kind of new torture Claire had dreamed up. The only thing they knew was that this was the final contest. One of them was going home richer, and the other two were going to the stables. No one even considered the thought that the position of pony girl was temporary. They had all seen the beaten expressions in the eyes of each new addition to Claire’s team of pony girls, and all were intent on avoiding that fate.
Putting her more personal plans into motion, Claire finally had the attendants bring Abigail to her. After delivering her to Claire’s suite, the attendant was dismissed. Abigail looked nervously at Claire, who was dressed in soft silk lingerie and a matching robe. A part of Abigail’s mind registered that this was the first clothing she had seen in months that was not leather, a leotard, or men’s clothing. After so many months, she could not find herself to chance even speaking. It was just as well. Claire did not require her speech skills. It was obvious Abigail was in a heightened state, as she exhibited a slight trembling and her nipples were clearly erect. Goosebumps crowded each other across her smooth skin. Realizing this, Abigail nervously folded her arms in front of her, though this did nothing to hide her physical state.
"Abigail, I know you and each of the other girls are worried about the final competition. How would you like to go into the final round knowing you were guaranteed to win?"
Abigail simply looked at Claire a moment, eyes wide and mouth open, before nodding her head vigorously. The only question in her mind was what would be the price?
"I want you to stay here tonight and service me. Satisfy my desires, and you will have nothing to worry about in the competition. Fail to do so, and you can be assured of a place in the stables." With this last statement, Claire pointedly turned and walked into the bedroom, removing her robe as she went, revealing a long expanse of smooth tanned skin down her back. She nodded at a slave collar and leash on a side table as she passed, "Put that on, and take that leotard off."
After a moment, Abigail followed, removing her clothing as she went. She picked up the collar and leash as she passed and was putting it around her neck as she entered the bedroom. The rest of the night was spent with Abigail learning the finer points of how to satisfy a woman. She was required to caress Claire’s body with every part of her own body, with a special preference shown for soft kisses and light flicking of her tongue over Claire’s breasts, cunt, and the lower curvature of her ass cheeks. Claire took possession of the business end of the leash and held it during the entire proceedings, pulling it and tugging to position Abigail into the positions she wanted her in at any given moment.
She learned where to touch Claire, how hard or soft to caress Claire’s breasts, how lightly or firmly to stroke Claire’s carefully trimmed cunt with her tongue, and how to hide her hesitation or resistance as Claire directed her from one position or activity to another. She alternated light soft kisses to her nipples with a full sucking action that drew quite a bit of Claire’s breast into her mouth. She learned to take the woman’s nipple between her teeth and pull up slightly, until the entire weight of her breast was hanging from her nipple as it was firmly clenched between her teeth. This was usually followed up with additional light kissing of the breast area around the nipple, with occasional soft flicking of the tip of her tongue of the nipple itself.
She rubbed her hands lightly across her back and buttocks, alternating with light scratches with her fingernails. The tempo and volume of Claire’s moans and sighs gave indication as to how her efforts were being appreciated. In the end she found herself face down between Claire’s thighs, her hands sandwiched between Claire’s buttocks and the bed, with Claire suppressing moans at the head of the bed. Claire grabbed a hand full of hair with her left hand, and pressed her head down even farther. The leash, still attached to the collar, passed underneath the dominatrix, between her ass cheeks, and extended up underneath her body to her right hand where she tugged occasionally. Finally, she lifted herself up using only her neck and feet, lifting her entire body clear of the bed sheets, and pulled the leash even harder.
Claire enjoyed the feel of the cold links of steel passing tightly between the cleft of her buttocks. Abigail of course had not choice but to lower her focus even farther, until she was slipping her tongue back and forth firmly against the very lowest portion of Claire’s cunt. Occasionally her tongue would pass lightly against the small portion of flesh between Claire’s cunt and anus, eliciting a moan and slight trembling. The thought passed through her mind that if Claire pulled if any harder she would be down between the woman’s ass cheeks, so she applied even greater efforts to satisfying her tormentor. Finally, after an especially loud orgasm, Claire pushed Abigail away with her foot. Looking down at her nude victim, she noticed the saliva dripping from the girl’s chin and grinned devilishly.
Abigail had never before touched a woman in this fashion. She was humiliated yet again, but had to steadfastly continue with the knowledge that if she did not satisfy Claire appropriately enough, she would most likely end up pulling the wagon. With this thought in mind, she enthusiastically serviced the twisted dominatrix again. Finally, Claire pulled Abigail to her with the leash and forced her head down between her thighs until Claire got the hint and began to lick Claire even more furiously as Claire crossed her legs behind Abigail‘s neck and squeezed. She felt Claire pull her arms viciously back behind her, then loop the leash around her wrists several times before laying back again on the pillows. The more Abigail serviced her, the harder Claire pulled the leash until Abigail felt as if her arms were going to be pulled out of their sockets. After several long minutes, Claire arched her back again with a moan, pressed her thighs even more tightly together. After the orgasm passed, Claire lay still for a long time. Abigail stopped her oral services only to feel the end of the leash smack her naked upraised buttocks hard. Resuming her activities, she noted how Claire calmed down almost imperceptibly as she relaxed from her orgasm. Afterwards, she recalled the attendant and Abigail was unceremoniously sent back to her room, still wearing the leash and without her clothing.
Abigail had never been with a woman before, and after the experience she spent the remainder of the night washing herself thoroughly, but nothing could remove the sense of filth she now felt covered her. The next day Claire acted as if nothing had happened, but Abigail had a feeling each of the remaining contestants was going to enjoy Claire’s late night hospitality.
Apprehension was more and more evident on the women’s faces as the usual deadline drew near. Finally the knock on the door came. Looking around at the luxurious surroundings, each wondered if she would sleep on the soft silk sheets that night, or on the rough straw of the stables. Following their handlers, they proceeded down to the foyer where Claire awaited.
"It looks like we are finally down to the last contestants. Congratulations, I didn’t think any of you would make it this far without losing your sanity. Today’s contest is the last and most important. There can be only one winner. If you fail today, that’s it. It’s over for your. At least as a human being. The losers will spend the rest of their days in the stables, and be put down when their useful lives are over. There is no hope for you, no future except what I give you, and no alternative. When I tire of you, you will be sold as the livestock you are to the highest bidder. So today you must compete as if your life depends on it, because it does!" With this last flourish, Claire turned and walked through the door. Numbly, the remaining three women walked along behind, not sure what would happen.
The wagon had been replaced with a heavy carriage. The pony girls were decked out in expensive livery, with broad black leather tack and polished brass buckles. Tall feathers were mounted in plumes onto the tops of their bridles and each stood attentively. Again, red whelps marked the newest additions at the end of the team nearest the carriage. A coachman would be driving them today, and he looked eager to begin the trip.
An important change in how the women’s arms were bound had occurred. Their arms had withered from such intense confinement, that Claire had managed to have their arms pulled together until their elbows met. From this point, their forearms had been placed against the opposite bicep, their fists remained balled up, and the entire arrangement had been encased in a tight fitting triangular shaped leather binder. This arrangement had even more of their body exposed. The only way to eliminate the remaining coverage of their backs would have been to remove their arms, something nobody would now put past Claire if it crossed her mind.
The women stepped up into the carriage at Claire’s invitation. The feeling of their practically bare bottoms sinking down into the soft black leather cushioned seat was an unusual experience for them.
The ride was especially long today, as Claire wanted to enjoy it and draw it out as long as possible. She languidly caressed Tabitha’s breast as she looked smugly at Abigail. There was no hint as yet of what her decision would be. The only sound was the clip clop of the pony girl hooves, as well as the small brass bells attached to the rings in their swaying nipples. The bells had been made deliberately heavy, and pulled and tugged at their nipples fiendishly with every step. Another heavy bell suspended from the ring through their clit thrummed rhythmically against their cunts in almost a pleasurable manner.
After passing through the gate, Claire looked pointedly at Abigail. "Abby, I want you to service Tabitha." The statement was a direct order, with no need for threats.
Abigail, surprising herself yet again, meekly and immediately dropped to her knees on the floor of the carriage and worked her face down between Tabitha’s thighs. Tabitha, like Abigail, had been forced to service Claire. This however was the first time she herself had been so serviced by another woman, and she had to admit after several minutes that Claire had taught her well. Sliding down further into the cushioned seat, she pulled her leotard even farther to one side, spread her legs farther and enjoyed the ride.
After ten minutes, Claire turned to the brunette. "Heather, I want you to service Abigail now." Abigail, realizing she had not been spoken to, kept servicing Tabitha. She noticed that Tabitha had a great deal of stubble and stray hairs, unlike Claire who had kept herself immaculately groomed. After a few seconds, she felt the thong of her leotard pulling timidly to one side and a wet tongue started darting into her crack. Obligingly, she spread her knees farther apart and did what she could to provide greater access. After several more minutes, she felt leather clad legs straddling her head. Claire had taken a position on the seat wherein her cunt was inches from Tabitha’s face. The lacing of her leather pants went quickly, and in no time Tabitha was performing a function Claire had decided was best for her. Abigail wasn‘t sure, but hoped that her fate was not sealed along with Heather’s at that very moment. Tabitha realized it however, and did not even mind when Claire forced her farther down onto her back and practically cut her air off in smothering her face with her cunt.
Tabitha did make the mistake of moaning a little too much at one point, for which Claire grabbed Abigail by the hair and pulled her away a moment. "Did I tell you to come cunt!?"
Tabitha, realizing she had almost gone too far shook her head furiously and began to eat out Claire more intensely. Claire let go of Abigail’s hair after a few minutes and all resumed their positions as before. The driver intently kept his eyes on driving the pony girls. He did not get the chance often to drive the pony girls as a team and he intended to enjoy every minute of it. The pony girls for their part noticed that he had a greater tendency to use the whip, even on the pony girls towards the front of the team. All pulled furiously in an effort not to attract his attention, yet all bore encouragement marks by the time they arrived at their destination.
Pulling into the clearing, the remaining contestants got their first look at the field of contention. A maze had been built of hedges, stones, arches and doorways, and within the maze were various traps and conditions the contestants would have to navigate. Platforms had been built around the perimeter to allow Claire to see the progress of the contest. It was at this time that their arms were bound behind their backs, elbows and wrists together, and ball gags were inserted.
"Each of you will be released into the maze at the same time. The first one through wins. " Claire looked meaningfully at them, as they realized that her offer to let each of them win had been a false promise. Resigned to their fate, each took a position at the entrance and waited for the signal.
"Well, what are you waiting for?"
Immediately, Abigail launched herself through the door, the other two on her heels. She was immediately confronted with a choice of three corridors. Without missing a beat she began to run down the center, realizing that the other two had taken separate routes. After wandering for thirty minutes, she found a doorway, but it had no door knob. Instead, a bench with a large dildo protruding from the seat was placed in front of it. Cables connected some mechanism beneath the seat to the door frame. Obviously, Abigail would have to use this contraption to open the door.
Taking a deep breath, she reached her bound hands down as far back as she could and pulled the leotard thong to one side. Squatting over the dildo, she paused a moment to steel her nerves, then slowly lowered herself onto the device. With every inch she took in, the door opened more until it was completely opened and Abigail was completely enveloping the dildo.
Realizing she had succeeded, Abigail began to stand slowly and pull herself off the device only to see the door closing again as she did so. Crying out slightly, she immediately squatted back down and the door opened again. Biting her teeth into the ball gag, Abigail then pulled herself suddenly off the dildo with a sucking slurping sound and stumbled towards the door. She barely made it and fell through the opening before it closed behind her yet again.
Heather and then Tabitha ran into the room just as the door closed. Both looked at each other wondering how to get the other to use the dildo.
Abigail on the other hand was making her way down a cold damp stone corridor. With every step she felt the crotch portion of the leotard rub against the side of her labia. With her hands bound, she could not reach down far enough to adjust it back in place and so felt foolish and naked as she made her way in the dim light knowing her sex was thus exposed.
It was looking too easy, and she was right. Stepping onto a large stone, she felt it slip under her feet as she tumbled down a trap. Sliding to the bottom of the tight narrow passage way, she felt herself fall into darkness. A cesspool awaited her at the bottom. Splashing about in the cold murky water, she came up sputtering around her gag trying to catch her breath. She was soaked to the skin and her hair was matted in her face, but with her arms behind her she could only shake her head to try to clear her vision. Her clothing was of course practically transparent. Wading through the cold water, she proceeded towards a light in the distance. A moment later, Heather splashed down behind her. Pausing, Abigail looked behind her. She wanted to win, but it was also mighty dark between where she was and the light ahead. Even having a competitor with her would lessen the fear.
Grinning around her ball gag, Heather caught up with her. Then both proceeded down the dark passage. Arriving at the source of the light, they found tubes set into the wall. Obviously, they were going to have to squirm their way through. Picking a tube, each crawled in to find that they could just barely fit. They would have to slide their way down without the use of their hands to wherever the tubes went. Kicking with her bare feet, Abigail began pushing hard. One competitor was neck and neck with her, and there was no guarantee she would win.
The tubes took both women on a long arduous path that sometimes dipped into fetid water, sometimes climbed with no end in sight. At each turn, the women pressed on hoping to win the prize. Sometimes the darkness and close confines almost drove them crazy with claustrophobia. The tubes would widen or narrow, with the tightest confines almost driving them to panic as they squeezed their upper torsos through the small openings, their breasts flattening out against the walls of the tube and pressing back against their own rib cages.
Finally they reached the end and tumbled out onto the ground. Abigail was first, Heather fell out a moment later. As they looked up, both saw Claire looking at them. Just behind was an already stripped Tabitha, her expression crestfallen, with an attendant on each side holding her bound arms. She twisted and turned desperately trying to break free, a terrified expression on her face as she stared at the back of Claire’s head. Claire just ignored her.
"Well Abigail, it looks like you won the prize. Congratulations!"
Heather, realizing what was happening, stumbled to her feet and began to run, an incomprehensible moan drifting from her lips as she ran. She had no idea where she could go, but she had to escape! Seconds later the attendants had her well in hand as she struggled to get away. Lead lines were snapped into their gag apparatus and both losers were hitched to the back of the carriage as Abigail and Claire took their place inside the conveyance.
Abigail started a bit as Claire reached over and removed her wrist cuffs, then handed her a towel. Abigail timidly pulled her leotard back up over her breasts, then reached up and removed her ball gag. For the first time in months she felt she was safe. Claire just looked at her pleasantly on the ride back to the mansion, not saying anything, listening to the jingle of the bells affixed to the pony girls. Abigail’s erstwhile competitors ran doggedly trying to keep pace while breathing up the dust the carriage’s wheels kicked up directly into their faces. It was a good day.
Abigail arrived for dinner dressed in a beautiful red evening gown. The first clothing other than the leotard that she had been allowed since arriving at the estate. It felt strangely confining but wonderful at the same time. She had gotten used to being so scantily clad that she felt almost encumbered by the garment. The stiletto heels were strange on her feet as well, considering she had been barefoot the entire time. Makeup had been made available, along with a hairstylist, and Abigail felt especially beautiful now.
As she walked into the huge dining hall, she juxtaposed in her mind her current conditions versus the stables she had visited that afternoon. Claire had taken great pleasure in showing her around, and even hitched a few of her erstwhile competitors to a cart and allowed Abigail to drive them around the estate. She had to admit it that it had been thrilling, and though at first reluctant, she found herself using the whip more and more even though it was unwarranted. She simply enjoyed the feeling of power she attained by snapping the end of the whip against the gyrating buttocks of the poor creatures stuck with pulling her. As she saw them perspiring more and more profusely, she forced them to pull harder until all of the leather tack was wet and lathering. When they returned to the stables, she even had the chance to rub them down and prepare them for their stay in the stalls that evening. She also had the chance to watch the attendants rape her last competitor, Heather, in one of the stalls that afternoon. She had to admit, her first thought was that it was better Heather than herself who was having to service all of the stable boys that day. She felt not an ounce of pity.
Arriving at the candlelit dining hall, she found the table was set for three. A fireplace roared away on one end of the room. Claire was already present and took her place at the middle position, gesturing Abigail towards the end seat.
Sitting comfortably, Abigail looked expectantly at the other woman. She had still not spoken.
"It’s ok to converse now, you know." Claire offered.
Smiling in relief, Claire relaxed more. "It’s just been so long. I was afraid I had forgotten how."
"I understand. This is your victory celebration, so feel free to enjoy yourself."
A waiter arrived and poured wine for both women. Sipping the dark red liquid, both women then began a long animated conversation regarding the contest as they enjoyed the full course dinner. Finally Abigail asked the obvious question.
"Who is the extra chair for?"
"That is for our host. You did not believe I actually owned all of this did you?"
"Oh, well where is he then?"
"He’ll be around shortly. He said he would be late. Quite rude in my opinion considering what you have been through these past few months."
At this moment, a dark figure walked in. A tall, wide shouldered man with slightly graying hair, he had an imposing aura that immediately drew both women’s attention without a word being said. Entering from the far end of the dining hall, and with the fireplace roaring behind him, it was a bit difficult at first to see his face.
"Good evening ladies."
"How nice of you to join us finally, I’ve looked forward to this for almost two years now." Claire was obviously more than a little intrigued, which confused Abigail slightly. Another thing that bothered her was the familiarity of the voice. A moment later she realized who he was and stiffened in her seat abruptly. Claire noticed the change, but continued as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
"So, who do we owe the pleasure of this fine hospitality to? And perhaps now you can explain to me why all the cloak and dagger proceedings over the past year. Why not come right out and say what you wanted? It would have been much easier and quicker."
Abigail still sat stiffly, her wine glass poised forgotten in her hand.
"My name is Jonathan Drake. I’m sure Abigail can fill you in on who I am." The stranger took a seat at the table and appeared completely at ease. Claire felt a chill up her spine. Something was definitely not right here. Her head was starting to pound and she laid it to sudden stress.
"Hello John. Long time. How’re you doing these days?"
The strange tone in Abigail’s voice struck Claire’s nerves. Something very bad was happening, but she was not sure what. She also noticed that Abigail had not moved since the stranger had walked in, and was frowning slightly as if she were having trouble concentrating..
"I’m doing very well these days, thank you for asking. How did you like the little competition?"
"Interesting. So you dreamed this thing up, huh?
"Yes, all for you. I knew you would win. You have a knack for that."
Abigail felt the room spinning. It must be the wine or the shock of seeing John again.
"So Abigail, who is our mysterious benefactor?"
"My ex-husband." The statement was short and to the point. Claire shot a look back and forth between the two, wondering exactly what was going on. It was suddenly feeling very warm.
"Oh my. That explains a lot. Well, you two must have a lot to talk about, so I’ll be excusing myself now." Claire started to rise from her seat only to stumble slightly and fall back.
"Please stay, I insist. You should hear this out."
"Okay John, what is this really about."
"Well, why don’t you explain to Claire what you did to me?"
Claire, groggy now, simply looked at Abigail expectantly.
"We divorced. John went to jail. That’s all there is to tell." Abigail had now dropped her head at this last statement.
"No, you’re wrong Abigail. There is so much more to tell our dear Claire. Perhaps how you stole all of my money, left me bankrupt, ran off with my business partner, then did everything you could to destroy me. Maybe how you sold everything I had. Or perhaps how you framed me and sent me to prison. That was the part that took some digging on my behalf. I had trouble figuring out how you got the judge to rule the way he did. That sentence was way too severe for the crime - which I did not do! Then you did everything you could to keep me there as long as possible, more or less out of spite!"
"Do you have any idea what prison life is even like? I couldn’t use soap for years in the showers! And oh yes, occasionally our dear Abigail would pay someone to try to kill me. All in all, it was definitely an education in cruelty." This last statement was said with all the cold and calculated feeling of a psychopath. Claire could hear the hatred emanating from his voice. He truly hated Abigail.
"You see, I found out about the judge's little secret. I spent years in prison plotting my revenge. I still had a few resources you did not know about. I played those resources without caution, eventually building up a financial empire greater than what I had when I married you. Then, and only then, could I begin to implement my plans. And of course since I was in jail, I received the very best instruction possible in how to subjugate another human being with a complete lack of remorse."
"I built this estate from the ground up with this contest in mind. It took millions, but I finally had all of the pieces in place. I got even with the attorney who betrayed me, and even destroyed the judge who fixed the case for you. By the way, both are dead now, for what it’s worth to you."
Claire was now remembering through the growing haze a job she had taken years earlier. Something about getting the goods on a judge, then blackmailing him to rule a certain way. Yes, she had been involved in that, and these were the people involved in the divorce and criminal proceedings that followed. She had been working through a third party again, but she was certain what Jonathan had found out.
"What…what do you…want?" This, from Abigail. She was obviously drugged. Claire knew she was as well, and that there was little chance of escape. They were already barely coherent.
"To possess you completely, before destroying you just as completely."
The room went dark.
It was only moments before they both came to. The drug was wearing off quickly now. Perhaps, thought Abigail, Jonathon intended it that way. He wanted them aware of what was happening to them at every step. Attendants had already arrived, bound their wrists, gagged them, and were picking them up. Claire, now realizing Jonathon’s intentions, began to struggle furiously. She fought her attendants at every step, never letting up in her efforts. Unlike Abigail, she knew precisely the details of the pony girl conversion. Jonathon simply followed along quietly.
Abigail herself fought desperately against the attendants, but they were very experienced now and it was a completely one-side struggle.
Claire and Abigail were each strapped to a gurney and rolled down long dark corridors. Abigail noticed that even in her restrained state, Claire continued to struggle against her bonds. Finally dawning on her that the reason for Claire’s fear was the thorough knowledge she possessed of what was about to transpire, Abigail felt a cold chill run through her. If Claire was terrified, there was true reason to be frightened. The thought of being turned into a pony girl had itself become so ingrained into her mind over the previous few months that it had become somewhat less fearful. Now however, she realized that she did not really know or understand what the actual process was. Suddenly she had real reason to be scared all over again. As she did, her fight or flight response kicked in and Jonathon just laughed as his ex-wife started to thrash about more frantically in a panic. He was really going to enjoy this.
The tunnel eventually opened up into a cavernous operating room. The surgeon was already waiting, mask in place and gloves on hands. Two operating tables were positioned on either side of his station, thick leather cuffs awaiting the next limbs to be restrained. An attractive nurse wearing nothing but an ultra short skin tight latex nurses uniform stood to one side. As with the rest of the participants, she was being paid very well to take part in these surgeries.
The attendants rolled the gurneys alongside each operating table and the latest victims were hustled bodily off of the gurneys. With a bit of additional effort, they were strapped down securely on their backs, their arms spread wide.
The good doctor lost no time, but immediately had the nurse begin cutting away the clothing of the women. He could have done it himself, but he enjoyed the sight of his comely female assistant bending, twisting, and turning to remove the squirming captives' clothes. He especially enjoyed the fact that his assistant was required to keep her own private areas completely shaven, a fact made blatantly obvious every time she bent over and her uniform rode up her buttocks. The doctor had made certain that her uniform did not include panties of any sort. After so many procedures, she found herself unconsciously pulling it down whether it had ridden up or not.
Finally, she turned back to the surgeon. "They’re ready doctor." Smiling maliciously behind her mask, she took her place beside the doctor once again and began handing him the implements of his trade.
At this moment Jonathon stepped forward. "Take the blonde off the table. Restrain her and bring her to the observatory above. I’ll wait for her there." Without another word he turned and walked away. Abigail had a moment of hope when she felt he might actually pity her and take her out of this nightmare.
As her restrained nude sweat soaked body was dragged up the stairs, she again felt a chill. So engrossed was she in her own thought processes, she actually did not even notice the attendants pressing their hands and fingers at every chance into her most private places. She suddenly had no doubt that this minor reprieve had nothing to do with pity. There was something far more sinister in store for her. Once she had arrived at the observation platform, the attendants left. She was still gagged and bound, but even left unhanded she could not even have opened the door to escape. And even if she had, there was no place for her to go.
Finally, she settled for walking over to the window to stand timidly next to the imposing figure of her ex-husband, a man she had sent away to prison under false charges years earlier, and then compounded his misfortune by doing everything possible to keep him there. It had not even been due to any sense of self preservation on her part, she had simply enjoyed the idea of destroying him as he sat helplessly behind bars. Eventually, she tired of attempting to have other inmates beat him up, or even assassinate him. He had managed to elude every effort she had made, she had moved onto other big fish, and she’d forgotten about him quickly. Unfortunately, she was far better at attaining riches others had built up than she was in maintaining that wealth after she acquired it. As such, she eventually found herself broke again and looking for another sucker. That is when Claire had contacted her. She saw now just how gullible she had been.
Her husband for his part ignored her and watched the operation just starting down below. Occasionally, he would narrate a procedure for her, but do so almost as if talking to himself. He did not really direct his words to her as a person, only as an animated object. Eventually she understood. He wanted her to know the same terror and despair Claire was experiencing even now.
The procedure was long and painful. Due to Jonathon’s insistence, they were to install the breast implants by cutting through Claire’s navel. Normally, the subject would be unconscious, but again at his employers insistence the assistant applied a numbing agent that basically left the woman motionless and paralyzed. She was supposed to feel nothing, but would hear and see everything to be done to her. The drugs were so powerful that she no longer had the ability to even blink, and so the nurse occasionally would apply eye drops over the following hours. She had a tendency to apply it liberally, and occasionally would touch the dropper tip to surface of the eyeball itself. The patient was unable to do anything except suffer through the torment. The nurse had a sardonic smile throughout the procedure which was carefully hidden behind her mask.
The surgery was a two-part affair. The first had the doctor apply a pair of small incisions, in the far lower abdomen, through which her ability to procreate was tied and permanently taken away. Abigail was somewhat confused, yet Claire knew that this meant she would no longer be in control of her body, and could be used in any manner for any degradation Jonathon might dream up. She herself had referred to it as turning the victim into a "fucking machine".
It was only then that another incision was made through the navel. Even though supposedly drugged under orders from the doctor, Claire had secretly instructed the nurse to use a paralyzing agent and not a numbing agent. As such, many of the previous patients had passed out from the pain alone. The doctor had always assumed it was panic, but the nurse knew better. It was such a sensitive part of their bodies that Claire endured pure agony as the doctor worked. Though she hoped she too would pass out before it was over with, somehow she remained conscious. The colder more calculating part of her mind had already figured out that the nurse, realizing who the patient was to be this time, had administered just enough drugs to keep her alert and conscious.
She watched her reflection in the overhead mirrored light housings in abject humiliation as the physician began stuffing her breasts with the implants. Unlike the other women, hers were to be even larger. Porn star larger! Claire realized this as the operation progressed, and also realized what agony she was in for as she had to work the training sessions with this additional weight to carry around. She also knew from her own personal experience that it allowed for a wider range of rather painful sensations simply from the larger surface areas the tormenters would have to work with. At that time the nurse applied another liberal dose of eye drops and her vision blurred for the next fifteen minutes as she felt the surgeon tug and push at her body. When it finally cleared, she realized she could actually see her own breasts clearly in her peripheral vision, they had been enlarged to that extent. Whether it was her imagination or reality, Claire actually felt as if it were more difficult to breathe from the weight. As Claire wallowed in her self pity, the doctor proceeded to the next stage.
The final step was to remove a few of her back teeth. This was accomplished just as the drugs were wearing off and Claire managed to twist and turn in horrified agony as her teeth were extracted, then held up for the spectators to see. The roots were still dripping with blood and saliva as the doctor dropped them into a steel pan the nurse held out oh so helpfully. Afterwards, a pony girl bit was inserted into her mouth. It fit perfectly into the recess created by the removal of her back teeth.
Hours later, she was taken to a holding cell and her wrists secured to her thighs. A ring gag was placed in her mouth requiring her to keep her mouth open at all times, the saliva dripping down the front of her body in copious amounts. Here she would stay for the next three weeks, not seeing anything but the four walls of her cell, and the dim light never being turned off or brightened, just a painful dull mind numbing monotony.
As she healed from the surgery, she received daily visits from the doctor or nurse. The doctor would of course feel her up at every turn, knowing she was never going to be able to tell anyone again. When he felt especially horny, he would simply pin her against the wall or on the floor and fuck her in any manner he wished. Generally, he was horny at least once a day. He figured he had one more patient after her, and after that his fun would be over. He intended to enjoy these last few weeks.
The nurse was worse. At least after the doctor was finished he would slump down with a limp dick and moments later leave. The nurse would instead step in wearing nothing but a lab coat, under which she was wearing an enormous strap-on. She would pin Claire face first against the padded wall and press her own sweating nude body against her from behind, the strap-on working its way determinedly into which ever body orifice the nurse took a fancy to that night. The nurse thoroughly enjoyed her work, and spent hours working Claire over with her own breasts crushed against her unwilling captive. Claire sweated out the sessions with only a whimper of course, as her gag remained in place at all times. Sometimes the nurse would rape her anally, other times she would make her fuck the dildo for hours. Lately, the nurse had decided she would enjoy watching Claire orally service the device strapped against her own cunt. It obviously had an appendage on the other end which the nurse had inserted inside her own vagina, and as it was worked she felt the effects on her own pussy. She had made sure it remained unwashed, and Claire knew she was tasting herself on the device and probably many others who had been through this same holding cell before her.
Jonathon knew and encouraged such activities. Abigail herself spent the next few weeks literally never rising off her knees. Each arm was doubled up onto itself and buckled in place with a leather strap. Her legs were restrained similarly. It was of course impossible to escape from. Thoughtfully, Jonathon had made sure there was absolutely no padding at the elbows or knees, leaving Abigail to suffer the pain each time her weight was placed on her now abbreviated limbs.
She spent her nights leashed to the foot of Jonathon’s bed. Occasionally she would pass the entire evening with her tits bound tightly to a bed post via slender silk strings tied around each nipple, then passed on the opposite side of the post. Any movement elicited excruciating pain, so she had to keep very still. Jonathon took her anally whenever he wanted, whether it was right before he went to sleep or after getting up in the middle of the night to take a leak. In the morning the silken strands had to be cut off in order to release her. This was a task Jonathon typically left to the maids, who were in no hurry to release her. More than once, when a maid happened to be left alone in the bedroom with her first thing in the morning, the maid would maliciously torment her in some way. Sometimes she would simply pull viciously at the string until her nipples stood out straight from her breasts, or perhaps pinch her viciously. Other times she would straddle Abigail’s body between her head and the bedpost and force her to orally service her before releasing her nipples from their nightly torment. More than once Abigail thought her neck would break from the strain of the position, or that her nipples were going to be ripped from her breasts by the taut string.
In addition, Jonathon kept a steady stream of willing women coming through every night, and Abigail was regularly forced to put what she had learned from Claire to work on whatever flavor of the evening Jonathon had acquired. But more usually Abigail was forced to endure whatever amateurish attempts at torture the women dreamed up. Having never been faced with a truly vulnerable female, most needed encouragement and suggestions, both of which Jonathon was more than happy to provide. But only a little encouragement was all that was needed, and most ended up making up for in enthusiasm what they lacked in experience. The thrill of having complete control over another human being, able to inflict pain on an unwilling subject at will and without repercussion, were too much for any of them to resist.
She was not allowed to bathe afterwards, and found herself relegated more and more often to a kennel with the dogs just behind the stables. There the stable hands had immediate and unrestricted access at any time.
Bound as she was, her nipples barely cleared the ground, and as such she had to be careful not to scrape this sensitive part of her body on the ground if at all possible. Jonathon never missed an opportunity to kick his new "dog" over, only to watch her awkwardly roll around, her breasts flopping clumsily and her cunt fully exposed as she tried to right herself and get up. Occasionally he would put his boot on her head or neck and hold her down as she squirmed in this uncomfortable position, or work the metal tipped toe of his boot into her cunt as she squirmed to get away. He was especially fond of doing this when she happened to be crossing near a pile of dog or pony girl droppings.
Regarding his other current project, Jonathon gave Claire ample time to heal. This was not out of kindness, but rather he wanted her in peak shape for what he had planned for her. Besides, he knew the torment visited upon her nightly by the doctor and nurse and wanted it dragged out as long as possible. Eventually, she was ready and Claire was taken back to the basement operating room. Once again Jonathon and Abigail watched from the observatory above. This was the first time in weeks Abigail had been allowed to stand vertically on her knees and she had a tendency to hunch.
The first step was to strap Claire into an upright rectangular steel frame, her arms and legs spread to the four corners. Seconds later, she was hanging by her wrists with no other support. The attendants seemed completely unconcerned that her hands were turning blue from the lack of circulation, or that Claire was screaming furiously around her gag as her hips thrust back and forth in a hopeless effort to break loose.
An attendant proceeded to wax her most private regions. Unlike the contestants, Claire had kept herself impeccably groomed, but over the previous weeks she had grown an irritating stubble. Unlike the other pony girls, she would retain her hair except on her body below the neck. Jonathon wanted her to retain her sense of identity simply so he could torment her further.
Afterwards, her clitoris and labia were pierced and small gold rings inserted. Only then did the attendants relieve the strain on her arms by rotating the steel frame to the horizontal. Claire was still suspended, face down, in the horizontal position. Her artificially enhanced bosom hung massively below her torso and caused her back to bow. The gold rings glinted evilly. A steel bar was attached to the frame at waist level, and only then were her arms released only to be pulled back behind her back. Her elbows were cuffed together, and her arms worked until her forearms were together up the middle of her back. Her gagged protestations during the entire process were ignored. As a final touch, her wrists were bound together.
After being properly groomed and restrained, Claire was taken over to a special frame where her head and neck were shackled into place. Her bit was removed only long enough to replace it with a special device designed to keep her mouth open to it’s widest. Her eyes were huge and round as another attendant, one with a special purpose, sat down in front of her. She tried to shake her head no, but could not move as the attendant attached a clamp to her tongue, pulled it far out of her mouth, and pierced it. Her eyes clamped shut at the pain, then opened again to stare wide eyed at the observation window above, a plea for mercy clearly emanating from her every expression. Removing the piercing device, the attendant inserted a threaded rod through her tongue. Still holding the threaded rod, he attached a different type of bit, permanently affixing the bit to her tongue. It fit snugly against her exposed gums, with her teeth clamping down in front of it. Even if she managed to go without a bridle, she would still have the bit permanently attached to her tongue. Henceforth, all communication from her would be animalistic grunts, with human speech forever denied her. Almost as an afterthought, he pierced her septum and inserted a gold ring in her nose.
Abigail watched the proceedings in horror. She knew she was next, yet she could not look away. There was no sympathy in her heart for what Claire was going through. She now realized that this bitch had set up the program herself. She could only think that there was a certain justice in her having to endure her own twisted imaginations.
Eventually, the attendants were finished. Abigail saw Claire was stumbling down the hallway on a leash held by an attendant, her huge outsized breasts swaying with every step. Abigail was forced to walk along behind with Jonathon watching intently. Finally the attendant turned into one room, dragging the still feebly resistant Claire behind him. Seconds later Abigail was inside the room as well, to see that Claire had already been bent over a rough wooden rail with her ass straight in the air. With her legs spread wide, her derriere was completely exposed. A chain strung from her new bit and head harness to a ring set into the floor. No other restraint was necessary. No matter what they did to her, she would only pull so much before the strain on her tongue would be too great to bear.
A low moan came from the unfortunate woman as the attendant came from across the room carrying a butt plug with a pony tail attached. Pausing to lubricate the offending device, the attendant unceremoniously shoved it in up to the hilt. The squeals that escaped past the bit were awful as Claire tried vainly to dislodge the plug. With her movements hampered so, she could only move a fraction of an inch in any direction. From her own personal knowledge, as bad as it was now, Claire knew it was about to get worse.
Claire’s eyes grew wide when she saw the branding iron. In spite of the futility of the effort, she still tried to squirm away as she felt the hot metal approaching her flesh. Jonathon interrupted at this point and took the branding iron himself. The attendant was somewhat surprised, as his employer had shown no interest in this stage before. On contact, Abigail wrinkled her nose up at the odor of burnt flesh. The heat caused the sweat on Claire’s flesh to scorch away momentarily as steam. Again, Claire passed out. Slight wisps of smoke rose from the new brand on her right buttock and a pool of moisture spread down her legs and across the floor due to the fact that she had lost control of her bodily functions. The attendant drenched her with a bucket of water, which woke her with a start.
The next step surprised even Claire. It was something done to no other pony girl. She watched in puzzled apprehension as something made of latex was brought into the room. It was a form fitting body suit. It was deliberately made too small, and so the attendants had a difficult time pulling it onto her body. Finally she was completely encased. The only things exposed were her face, cunt, rectum, and her feet. The body suit was so tight that it looked as if she were made of water and poured into it. Completely seamless, the opening for the neck was made especially elastic such that her entire body had to fit through it, after which it cinched up to her neck tightly. Made of an almost transparent material, it showed off her nipples provocatively, and her new brand was clearly visible on her right buttock cheek. The latex strained to accommodate her body, and it only accentuated her curves, both natural and unnatural. Her nipples were flattened out to an enormous degree by the pressure of the suit, and were obviously going to be a target before it was over with. Her arms were now not only bound to each other, but were confined inside a special triangular shaped tight fitting pouch at her back that was made integral with the latex suit. Even if she had not been bound, after being placed inside the latex suit she would not have been able to get free. The suit was so tight her flushed face seemed to bulge through the face opening. During the process, the pony tail was pulled through an appropriately sized opening. It was especially painful as they twisted and turned the tail plug to fit the tail hairs through the hole.
The suit was so tight fitting, and made to fit her so exactly, that there was no flesh visible around the pony tail. The only skin left open to the air was her feet, cunt and head above the neck. The opening for her vagina was so close fitting that her labia actually protruded out through the opening from the pressure the suit exerted. The nurse and doctor both of course had made sure to take her the night before, and now her rearmost body orifice was in agony.
Afterwards, her knees were hobbled together and a shiny new bridle slipped over her head. She stood with her knees together, and her ass stuck out. The new pony tail dangled to her calves and was intentionally much heavier than the normal pony tails used on the other women. Her new mane was coifed properly so that the hair would dangle frustratingly just between her eyes. Every few seconds she would shake her head slightly to try to get it out of her eyes, yet she knew it was useless. Even so, unconsciously she found herself doing it repeatedly anyway until the attendant placed a stiff high necked leather collar on her neck. After that, she could not turn her head and had to be content with rolling her eyes around to see, or moving her entire body to look to the side.
Claire was then made to stand in a pair of hoof shaped boots. A rail was lowered to her shoulders and pressed downward while a dildo was placed on a stand between her thighs. If she allowed herself to lower underneath the weight, the dildo would shove up into her, so she had to stand in the boots while they were laced up. The weight made sure that she was pressing down into the boots as firmly as possible. Claire had planned ahead for all previous victims by ensuring that the weight was slightly more than they could bear, allowing the dildo to slowly penetrate them despite their best efforts. She now knew firsthand what agony she had inflicted as the huge device slowly eased it’s way up into her body. Knowing it was useless, she still kept pushing up against the bar in a futile attempt at relief.
The boots were laced up, then wrapped in black tape that resembled electrical tape. Abigail was certain it was much stronger than regular tape though. After completely wrapping her boots in the tape, a heat gun was applied while Claire was still having to support the weighted beam. Claire screamed around the bit again to no avail, but Abigail could imagine how hot her feet were getting. The heat gun melted the tape until it was a solid covering. It was now no longer possible to remove the boots even if Claire had her hands free.
Before the boots had even cooled, Claire was removed from the beam, dragged off of the dildo, and taken to an anvil in the center of the room where thick heavy horseshoes were applied.
The next stop would be the stable. While there, she would be fed a bland meal of oats for the rest of her life. That, along with water and vitamin pills, would be the only nutrition she would ever again taste. Normally, mixed in with the oats were special medications which all of the pony girls received. These medications caused an increase in certain hormones and body chemistries. The result was a steady slow dulling of the senses and ability to reason, coupled with an increased sensitivity to external stimulus. Jonathon had noticed that some of the pony girls had developed a particular way of prancing. One in which they managed to bounce the small bell hanging from their clitoris such that after a while, they orgasmed. The chemicals they were being fed caused them to remain extremely lubricated and horny at all times. Another chemical was a pain killer and a stimulant. It allowed the pony girls to pull long hours without realizing debilitating pain, and yet they remained energetic.
It would took four days of deprivation and constant torture before Claire would actually eat any of the food offered her. Finally, hunger would get the better of her and, realizing still what was in the food she would eat it anyway out of starvation. All in all, Claire was royally screwed. After she got to the stables, she was going to be literally screwed. All of the attendants had kept their eye on her during the entire competition, and each and every one took his turn with her when given the chance.
Abigail could do nothing when it was her turn except beg for mercy. After watching her beg pitifully at his feet, Jonathon decided to modify Abigail’s predicament yet again.
"You know, we need a pussy around the manor. And you are going to fill the position." With that he turned and walked away. Abigail knew enough by now that no matter what he was up to, it was better to follow quietly. She soon found herself transformed yet again. A long slinky tail was firmly in place between her buttocks. A tight collar circled her neck and her bonds were modified somewhat. Her doubled up arms were encased in black leather, with her hands laid flat against her shoulders now. Her legs were done similarly, with her feet fixed into a permanent point. A ring gag was shoved into her mouth.
She found herself eating smelly cat food and sour milk out of pans in the kitchen. The cold kitchen floor was her least favorite place in the mansion as her breasts were especially sensitive to the tile floor they hovered bare fractions of an inch above. She was required to purr and rub against whoever walked into the room she was in at the time, even though most simply took the time to either grope her cunt or simply kicked her away. Quite often, her ex-husband took enjoyment in showing his male guests the "trick" he had taught her, as she had to provide a oral services to anyone on command. Even if they did not want her attentions, she was required to press on until they were annoyed enough with her to really kick her away, at which point she would crawl painfully into another room to nurse yet another bruised rib. With her arms bound so, she was completely unable to protect herself. Occasionally a boot would contact her breast instead of her ribs, at which point she would simply roll over in pain as onlookers laughed. She also developed a mild case of carpet burn on her nipples from the constant dragging. She was not sure, but was beginning to wonder if her breasts were starting to sag lower from all of the crawling she had to do.
She was made to defecate on command in a regularly sized kitty litter box. This of course was placed in one corner of the garage and no matter where she was at, she had to traverse the length of the huge mansion sometimes just to relieve herself. No offers of a blanket were made, and thus she was relegated to sleeping on the bare floor as best she could. Once Jonathon "forgot" to let her into the garage before going to bed, and she spent the entire night clinching painfully to avoid releasing her bladder.
The floozies Jonathon continued to bring in night after night were incredibly malicious and continued to torture her. She awoke one morning to warm fluid splashing onto her face. She of course started to yell out only to have the same stream of yellow water splash disgustingly into her open mouth. When she could finally get her eyes open, she realized that one of the women from the previous evening had squatted over her and urinated on her! Laughing, the woman just adjusted her clothing and walked away. Minutes later, as Abigail was miserably trying to get out of the puddle of urine, the woman came back around the corner with Jonathon in tow.
"See, I told you she peed on herself!" the woman stated matter of factly, pointing at the puddle Abigail lay in. Jonathon of course punished her severely by shoving her face into the puddle and working her hindquarters over with his belt. All Abigail could do was scream out and twist to no avail. He then made her lick every drop off of herself and the floor, just as any pussy would. As Jonathon and the woman walked away Abigail could only glare dejectedly at their backs as the last drops of the yellow liquid dripped from her nose.
After a few weeks, Abigail found herself being transported via the carriage again. Claire was at the rear most position and red whelps were visible all over her rear. Sweat had pooled inside the latex suit and Abigail could actually smell her from the carriage. She was made to climb up into it without any help, and then lay on the floor as it was transported along the winding roads of the estate. Finally, they arrived at a barn and Abigail was obliged to climb down and follow Jonathon inside.
"This place has entirely too many mice. Time for you to earn your keep pussy!" A boot landed on her buttock at the last statement and Abigail realized what he was saying then. He actually wanted her to catch a mouse! Without her hands, it was obvious how she would have to do it. Pleadingly, she looked back over her shoulder at him.
"Now unless you want to join the stables!" he said, pointing a finger at the barn again.
Lowering her head, she re-entered the barn and began to hunt. It would take hours, but eventually she would manage to corner a mouse. Steeling herself to the prospect, she caught it with her elbows and pummeled it senseless. There was nothing else to do after that but take the creature into her mouth and deliver it to her master.
Hobbling out into the sun again, she found him sitting under the shade of the trees. The pony girls of course were left in the sun. Flies buzzed incessantly around them and occasionally a pony girl would lift her leg just as a horse would and stomp in frustration.
Crossing the barnyard, Abigail delivered her trophy to Jonathon. Laying it carefully on the grass at his feet, she lay on her stomach and looked up at him for approval.
"Eat it." He did not even look up from the book he was reading. Abigail whimpered involuntarily at the thought. She snapped out of her shock when the riding whip cracked against her back. Flinching away from the pain, she belly crawled back to the mouse and closing her eyes she took the rodent into her mouth. Slowly she got all of the foul rodent in until only it’s tail was visible hanging from her lips. She looked up at her master one last time for mercy.
"I said eat it." He was now looking straight at her and was completely uninterested in his book. Grimacing, she began to try to swallow it only to feel it squirm! It was still alive! Desperately, she worked it down until it was well down into her throat, finally she felt it make it to her stomach right before she vomited. Jonathon only laughed at her.
"You’re pretty good at that! Tell you what, since you are such a natural hunter, we’ll turn one mouse a day loose in the house and that will be your dinner - if you can catch it. Otherwise I guess you will simply starve." As he made this statement, he got up from his place under the tree and proceeded to the carriage, his new kitty in tow behind him.
Jonathon allowed her to believe that utter obedience on her part and complete submission would postpone or even remove the threat of being further transformed. He simply used the additional time to enjoy her torment. More than one day Abigail failed to catch the rodent, and she found herself getting thinner and thinner over the weeks. Finally tiring of his kitty, Jonathon announced out of the blue that she was to be changed. Abigail dared to look into his face for the first time in months, her moan started out low and grew to a wail, even around her gag. The attendants were already entering when she moved frantically towards the door. Her efforts to evade capture were hilarious but futile.
Jonathon thoroughly enjoyed her groveling. She was made to offer up any part of herself to Jonathon or any of the other attendants. She was made to grovel at his feet while licking his shoes. She was humiliated in innumerable ways in the intervening hours. He was rapidly growing tired of her however. The game was almost finished. After he had anal, vaginal, and oral sex with her one last time - in that order - he then allowed the attendants to use her while he watched.
The final straw came when she was taken to the stables and bound face down on a bale of hay. The other pony girls peered curiously out of their stables at her. Their empty expressions indicated the extent to which the drugs had already done their work. Claire looked on more alertly, knowing she would soon not be the center of attention and so looking forward to it.
Horrified, Abigail begged and pleaded only to be told there was only one way out of her situation. With trepidation, she agreed to be transformed. She knew then that she was literally beaten in every way. He would enjoy the digitally recorded event numerous times in the coming years whenever he wanted to remind himself of his old wife.
Jonathon enjoyed himself as the attendant brought him a fresh beer to go with the steaks he was grilling for himself and his date of the night. He had decided to not provide all of the chemicals to either Claire or Abigail. He wanted them to remain aware of who and what they were. They were made to be horny, and the evidence dripped down the inside of their latex clad thighs constantly, but they retained all of their cognitive abilities and memory. In a moment of spiteful inspiration, he had their labia pierced again, and then pinned together loosely. They now were in the position of remaining horny constantly, yet even the attendants were not allowed to fuck them. And so they spent their days in agony, unable to release their pent up passions unless Jonathon allowed it. The only time he had allowed it however was to place his ex-wife on her back on a hay bale to fuck her. She was so drugged up and horny however that she had actually enjoyed the penetration at first. Afterwards it dawned on her what had happened, and how she had reacted, and her sense of self worth reached a new low. She was now in utter and deep depression and there was no way out of her situation. Had she the ability, she would surely have killed herself, but in her predicament even that option was denied her.
Abigail of course was made to wear her own latex suit identical to Claire’s. She found it incredibly uncomfortable as the sweat pooled between her skin and the latex. The hot sun was cooking her alive! With every step she felt the latex opening on either side of her cunt rubbing her raw. Like Claire, her nipples were pierced as well, with extra heavy bells dangling from the piercing. Her huge breasts, as they shifted inside the latex suit, tended to pull the latex body suit in various directions, inflicting further pain and discomfort as they did so.
As the pony girls were put through their paces in the ring, Jonathon noticed that his ex-wife and the one time dominatrix were not doing as well as the others and the attendants were getting more and more free with the whip. The fact that they were permanently encased in latex meant that they grew hot quickly in the summer heat and just did not have the same stamina as the rest of the girls. Their nipples had been pierced such that the rings were now on the outside of the latex and the extra heavy weights attached hung ponderously. Their sweat was pooling visibly within the translucent latex bodysuit. The latex protected their flesh somewhat from actual physical damage, yet they felt the lash of the whip as if they had nothing on. This allowed the attendants to discipline them more mercilessly than the others, knowing that they would not inadvertently damage the merchandise. This also prevented their receiving relief in the form of soothing balm on their breasts, and as such they stayed in pain constantly from the forced movements they were required to make. In the evenings, they could barely stand for them to be touched. Occasionally one or the other would glance meaningfully in his direction as if to plead with their eyes for mercy. They could smell the steak cooking, and saw the leggy and attractive brunette walking out next to the pool, wearing nothing but a black thong bikini and the briefest of bikini tops, preparatory to taking a dive. Her body was almost completely exposed, with really only her nipples and her cunt concealed. She had considered going nude only to be reminded by Jonathon that only slaves were nude on the estate - which immediately caused her to reconsider that option and not even give him the vaguest idea of doing something similar to her. Jonathon stood by the grill, overlooking the stables below, enjoying the sense of power he felt. Taking a sip of his beer, he stood, turned his back to them, and walked back into the coolness of the mansion. He patted his new toy’s ass as he walked by, and she jiggled appreciatively. She had proven especially cruel when he had allowed her control over the pony girls and he had high hopes for her future as a dominatrix. He had a new shipment of women coming in that evening and he wanted to be ready for them. In a few more weeks, he was going to auction off the first batch, and Abigail, renamed "Bitch", would be only a distant memory.
All in all, it was most satisfactory way to handle an ex-wife and a more than satisfactory proper settlement.