by Paul Blades
The ponies on the floor in front of her had reached a new crisis. Their bodies had rolled and they had exchanged positions. Maddy watched the rear of the topmost pony grind and thrust at the mouth that tortured her loins. Her brown ponytail was splayed across her broad back, draped across her imprisoned arms. Maddy felt the hips of the man behind her press against her hindquarters and heard the man groan as he shot his load into her bowels.
Almost as one, the crowd of men seemed to lose interest in tormenting the young females. They were permitted to regain their feet and their gags were replaced. They each received a resounding slap on their behinds before being led back to their stalls.
The men began to don their rain gear and trudge from the barn. When the door to the barn was opened, Maddy, as she was being escorted back to her stall, could hear the dinner bell tolling. There was a long, wooden building that served as the trainers' bunkhouse, and the men mostly took their meals there. In an hour, they would be back to feed and walk the ponies.
Two stable boys remained as custodians of the barn full of former young women. They dutifully walked the rounds, checking each stall, ensuring that all the ponies were firmly secured. It was hard for even grown men, never mind young men in their late teens or early twenties, to peruse the volume of naked, desirable female flesh without stimulation of their carnal needs. These two boys were no different. Maddy, returned to her former position in her stall, the cum of three men leaking down her legs, heard the boys remove two of the ponies for their use.
After her dinner walk, during which she was led by Drabik himself, she was taken back to her stall. He washed the residue of her afternoon activities from her body. Instead of chaining her facing the wall, he forced her to lean back on a specially designed board mounted on the rail that ran across her stall about waist high. Her torso was tilted backwards and her ankles chained to the rail, her legs splayed wide. Maddy knew that this position was meant to make her lower orifices readily available for invasion. Drabik caressed her breasts and rubbed her delicate nether lips until he saw the signs of arousal on her body. Then he left to rejoin his mates, already engaged in the abuse of another female.
So it was thus mounted, ready for use that Maddy listened to the wild partying of the men, their shouts and cheers, the clip clop of the ponies' boots as they made their frantic journeys around the barn. She heard the crack of the whip, the unmistakable sound of bodies hitting the floor, the curses and swears of the men who had lost their bets. She anxiously awaited her impending use. She still reviled each unconsented to invasion of her body, and she struggled and cried in frustration at her upcoming rape.
When the men had left, after Snowflake rook her nosedive to the floor, the barn became almost deathly quiet. Then she heard the steady pace of booted male feet approaching her stall. The door swung open and her trainer entered.
Drabik took a long look at his newest charge. She shook her blue manikin like head with its leather shield across her face in a futile effort to see who had come in, but the angle of her collar kept her eyes pointed upwards to the ceiling. She was progressing nicely, he thought. It would be a while yet before she was fully inured to her fate, but he could sense her humanity slipping away from her a little more each day. She had not been permitted a single word of speech since her arrival and she remained gagged even when beaten. Tomorrow, weather permitting, he would resume her training, forcing her to run while tethered to the training wheel. The other men laughed at the name he had given her, but he was a good judge of ponygirl flesh and she had all of the attributes of a winner. She snarled in misery and frustration when she finished last in all of her morning runs so far. He could see her determinedly pushing herself when he trained her, as she ran for hours on end, stopping only when compelled to do so, or after exhausting her forces, she collapsed, straining to regain her breath.
And her responsiveness was delightful. Soon, all of her thoughts would concentrate on the physical sensations of her body. She would grow dependant on sexual release and learn to yearn for a master's touch. She would gratefully accept the proffered cocks of her betters, happy to grant them their due.
Drabik could see that Maddy's nipples had stiffened at his arrival, in anticipation of her use, and he saw a slight sign of arousal glistening between the distended lips of her sex. He advanced slowly on her, increasing her anxiety. He rubbed his hands on the inside of her widespread thighs, drawing arousal from the firm, smooth flesh. He advanced between her legs and placed his hands on her breasts. They were firm and aroused and he heard the ponygirl give out a tiny repressed sigh. He crooned her name to her, "Molnya, little Molnya," as he delicately pinched her hardened nipples. When he placed his hand on her engorged pussy lips, dipping a finger between them, her body trembled.
Maddy recognized the voice of her trainer and chief tormentor. She had been waiting for him, both dreading and wishing for his arrival. He was the only one to pay special attention to her and, she hoped, he was the most likely of all the cruel men to recognize her humanity.
The former colonel took a moment to strip himself bare. He wanted Maddy to feel the heat of his body against hers. His thick cock was already stiff. He presented it to the tiny, wrinkled hole between Maddy's hindquarters, and lodged the tip of its round head just inside. She would do the work of admitting him.
Drabik leaned over and took one of Maddy's hard teats in his mouth. He suckled at it until he heard the female groan. He switched teats and teased and pulled at it with his teeth until he felt Maddy's loins shift beneath him. He ran his hand over her taut stomach, over the bright yellow wolf etched into her smooth, lean stomach, with its raging mouth and its distended paws. Maddy's body pulled up slightly on her board, as if to frustrate her trainer's intent. But when he delved his thumb deeply into her cunt, her body welcomed it.
He caressed Maddy's pussy until it began to gush. Slowly but surely, his cock was sliding towards its goal: immersion in the pony's hot bowels. Maddy's hips began to rock and her breathing became heavy. As she was approaching her orgasm, Drabik withdrew his hand causing her to emit a groan of frustration. Her blue covered head shook pleadingly. As her body writhed, begging for the resumption of its trainer's caress, the ring of her anus began to loosen. Drabik's thick pole inched forward. Its head was now just past the tight circle of flesh. When Drabik resumed his attentions to Maddy's cunt, she moaned and, after drawing her torso and hips as high as they could go, pushed down, embedding Drabik's cock deep within her ass.
Maddy had felt the thick rod pressing for entry at her rear hole. She dreaded its invasion, but the caresses of her trainer's hand infused her mind with lust. Her body craved possession and the need to feel a hot, thick cock inside her permeated her being. She ceased to care what entry was used. She wanted to be filled and so she pushed her hips downwards driving Drabik's piece inside.
As Drabik pumped his meat across the sensitive opening of her bowels, he teased her hardened clit with his fingers. His thumb was deep inside her pussy, caressing its swollen walls. The ponygirl's hips pushed back at him wildly. He could hear her moan from deep within her throat. He took his hand from her sex and placed it on the rail. He began to rasp his manhood across the tender and electrified skin of her now distended anal ring. The only contact between their bodies was the interface of his stiff manhood and the entrance to her bowels. She would come this way or not at all. Suddenly, Maddy emitted a long, plaintive wail and then her body began to shake and convulse. Her firm, plump breasts danced upon her chest as she drove her hips hard downwards seeking to increase the friction of their embrace. As Maddy screamed and moaned, her orgasm sending convulsive spasms throughout her body, Drabik's manhood began to throb and spurt. He pumped his fluid deeply within her and groaned out his own pleasure.
Maddy's convulsions gradually eased. Her body was covered with a sheen of sweat. Her chest pumped hard, seeking to renew the oxygen driven from her blood by her wild exertions. Drabik withdrew his softening tool and stepped back. He wiped himse
lf clean with a cloth, dressed, and then released Maddy from her bonds lowering her body to the cotton pallet on the floor of her stall. After confining her ankles and collar to the short chains he found there, he covered her eye holes. He gave her breasts a tender squeeze and then he left.
* * *
CHAPTER TWO
Jake watched as the last of the men entered the side door to the large, yellow brick industrial building. Now that all of the targets were there, he gave Irving the nod to signal Leon and Mary Ellen to make their move. Leon had been with the crew since Georgia, but Mary Ellen he had brought in especially for this job. She was smart, efficient and deadly. And he knew for a fact that she had few moral qualms, something that would be helpful for the next stage of the plan.
It was about 3 A.M. The streets were deserted. The uniform warehouse was located in the middle of an industrial park; ideal for the purposes of the gang that ran this slaving operation. Nights and weekends, the place was almost deserted.
It had been somewhat of a problem to come up with a strategy for blowing the large steel reinforced door that faced the side street. They couldn't blow the main garage doors, because they would be too hard to replace. They had to have everything looking hunky dory by morning or the whole plan would come apart. But the problem was how to set the charges, specially designed charges made up by Irving, the technical specialist, to just blow the hinges and to do so without too much noise. Irving had developed a special canister to go over the charge that was heavily lined with fireproofed, sound deadening materials. The canister had a latch that would hook onto the door. The explosion was designed to go inwards. The canister would stay on just long enough to deaden some of the noise. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do.
Jake had managed to get good pictures of the door opening and closing, and the heavy bolts that held the door closed when it was locked would have required strong explosives to blow. They would have taken off all the brick surrounding the point of impact. But he had also gotten good shots of the interior hinges. The explosion would pierce the steel door and shatter the steel hinges. The door could then be pushed open.
But there was another door inside. It was a large garage style door. They would have to blow that too. And they would have just a few seconds to do it before the men inside began to react to the exterior explosion. All they knew about it was what they had been able to squeeze from Chuckie. Chuckie was a young, not too smart, member of the slavers' organization. They had spotted him with Feeney, the boss, when they made their rounds as far west as Michigan and as far south as Georgia to collect young women who had been 'harvested' by semi-independent groups scattered around the eastern half of the country. Since the girls had to be transported by truck, the trip back to Elizabeth, New Jersey had to be able to be made within 24 hours or so. Otherwise you got into the need to feed and water the girls on the way. Too risky.
So they had picked up Chuckie about a week before. He had blubbered and cried when they threatened to shoot him. He gave up the whole operation. All that he knew, anyway. It was lucky for Jake and his crew that Chuckie had a family. Unbeknownst to his boss, he had fathered a little girl while in high school. Martinez had followed him there on one of his visits to the mother. Their lives were the price of Chuckie's cooperation. It was the only way to make him more afraid of them than of his boss. Chuckie described the interior of the building and how the team of slavers operated to load the large aluminum containers that the newly enslaved girls were shipped in. Once the last man arrived, the door to the basement would be opened and the girls would begin to be transferred to the loading area. That was an area just big enough for a staging area to pull the industrial van into and close the garage door behind it.
The problem was that if the men inside were given more than a moment to react, they would retreat into the basement, shut the solid steel door and wait for reinforcements. They could easily dispose of anyone who tried to rush in even if the door to the basement was blown open. So Jake and his team had to get inside the loading area within seconds of blasting the outer door.
And they couldn't just run up across the street and load the explosives on the outer door. There was a security camera around each side of the building. If one of the slavers happened to be watching the video, he would warn the others and the operation would go snafu. That was where Mary Ellen and Leon came in. They had pulled Leon's big old Caddy opposite the door and had started to make out like nobody's business. The men who had walked down the street to enter the warehouse had barely taken notice of them. Mary Ellen was hot and they probably felt a touch of envy for the guy in the car as they passed by.
Now that all the men were in, Chuckie having called in 'sick', Mary Ellen and Leon broke their embrace. At the same time that the other men, Tucker, Martinez and Jake, made a dash for the door from across the street, Mary Ellen and Leon jumped from the Caddy and set the charges. They dove to the sides of the door and let them blow.
There was a large crashing sound, not unlike a car accident. Irving's silencers had worked like a charm. He had also designed spring loaded charges that could be shot against the garage door and triggered the second they hit. Four explosions followed the first by mere seconds. A hole the size of two men had been blown open and Jake and Martinez, leading the crew, jumped through it. It took Jake two seconds to run the length of the big brown van which had been backed into the loading area. He rounded the corner of the truck with his pistol raised.
The slavers were standing around, their mouths agape. Jake saw one make a movement to the cellar door and he cut him down with two shots from his nine millimeter. His body fell across the doorway blocking its closure. Martinez had run the length of the truck on the other side. He was an expert with the Uzi, and he gave out three short bursts and three other men were down. That left one more. He was probably in the cellar. Jake jumped through the door and rolled to the side. Three bullets whizzed by him. He came up in a crouch and sent a volley of shots across the room. While he was firing, Curley came through the door and jumped to the other side. Three more shots rang out, their noise deafening inside the small, block lined cellar. When Curley opened fire with his .306 shotgun, Jake jumped off of the landing and began to crawl along the wall. Martinez was in now too, and he kept the unknown gunman's head down with judicious short bursts.
They had been told of the girls who would be in the cages. Jake had carefully explained to his team, out of Irving's earshot, that they were expendable. But they were to try and be careful nonetheless.
There was a moment's silence in the small basement. Jake could hear the hooded and bound girls whining and crying behind their gags. There could be no mistaking the sounds of the shots, and even if their hearing was stifled by plugs in their ears, the fierce noise of the firing guns had to be discernable.
A voice yelled out from inside a small alcove at the end of the basement. "Don't shoot!' the man pleaded. "I give up!"
"Throw down your weapon," Jake called out to him. A few seconds later, the clatter of a handgun could be heard on the floor.
"Come out with your hands in the air over your head, palms facing me, fingers wide apart!" Jake instructed the man.
Feeney had been the only one to react at the sound of the first blast. He had had enough time to jump through the cellar door, but not enough time to shut it. He had retreated to the end of the cellar in a desperate hope that he could negotiate being taken alive.
When Feeney walked halfway down the length of the basement, his arms extended above him, his palms turned towards his captors, Jake rose from his supine position, his Glock pointed directly at the man's heart.
Mary Ellen and Tucker were still in the loading area. They made sure that the downed men were out of action. A large silver canister was open in the middle of the room. One of the bound and hooded girls was huddled on the floor, her body shaking. Three canisters had already been loaded. Mary Ellen controlled her impulse to comfort the crying girl at her feet. She was just merchandise, aft
er all.
* * * *
Four o'clock the following afternoon, local time, a small truck awaited entrance at the gate of a compound just three miles outside of Dlitski, the capital city of Kalikastan. Inside the truck was a large air cargo container. Inside the container were nine large aluminum canisters, used and useful in the transport of slave girls.
The compound belonged to a middle aged, fat man by the name of Khalid Rashini. Khalid might look comical, with his thinning black hair, his ample paunch. But he was a man of substance in Kalikastan. He was the main supplier of young, nubile, female slaves in the country. Kalikastan had devolved into a wide open, wide awake country following its separation from the Soviet Union. It is sandwiched between the new Russia and the Ukraine, and is a favorite source point of smuggled goods in and out of its two large neighbors. It's run mostly by loosely organized gangs, usually established along family or ethnic lines. They were almost impossible to penetrate and were utterly ruthless.
Aside from his nominal membership in one of the leading clans, Khalid was able to claim the bonds of commerce with most of the others. For his comely, young slave girls were in great demand. Kalikastan had become the favored vacation spot for most of the eastern European underworld and some of the West. Dlitski itself was considered an 'open' city and as long as you minded your business, you could do anything you wanted there. The struggle for control of Kalikastan's criminal enterprises occurred mostly outside of the city.
So the Dlitski whorehouses were probably some of the best in the world. The slave girls who staffed them would do anything, and you could do anything to them. And if one of them got damaged or hurt, she could always be replaced at Khalid's.