And so 88 docilely stands in wait. Silenced by the cruel bit, there are no vindictive words to be offered she who has mastered him... the notorious stock trader Balls Martindale.
“Oh you are a handsome steed, 88,” Miss Penny playfully coos, knowing that, within the psyche, the vanquished male seethes, his loathing smoldering. “And standing so nicely. Have you figged him?”
“No Miss Penny. I thought it best to wait.”
“Very considerate. I do so much enjoy the initial reaction. I’m told the ginger juice is felt as one would feel a lit match,” the words coming as Miss Penny takes the offered reins.
128 knows to go to the tray where a carefully carved plug of ginger awaits. Though the juice has the effect of a searing hot iron when applied to sensitive pink flesh, it’s actually harmless. And the body never builds resistance to it... no scar tissue or other desensitizing. Thus the flesh can be subjected to the searing juice time after time with equivalent response.
Right hand grasping the plug, the fingers of the left splay the buttocks. Gliding the plug up and down to moisten the crevice, 128 assesses then slides the plug past the sphincter, the purse string muscle seeming to swallow hungrily.
Miss Penny smiles, in noting the initial reaction... a grimace... a snort of air... the cheeks clinching in distress. And she also knows to grip the reins with force, 88’s need to move about, to futilely somehow quench the fire, intractable.
“Yes, you’re eager to run for me, aren’t you 88? And you’re going to sense my control with every step, your testicle cords nice and tight, tugging at those nice big balls... ha, ha, ha.”
Cruelly, Miss Penny waits, letting the pain pervade.
“Perhaps you’d like to come with me 128. We’ll take a chariot. And the extra burden will offer 88 a nice long workout. It’s sunny and will soon be stifling hot. If you have not before seen a steed worked into a lather, air rushing past bit and bridle, lurching under the strokes of the sjambok, I think you’ll be greatly entertained.”
Chapter Twent- Eight
To the paddock area, 128 notes it is indeed a hot and sunny morning as she attaches the prongs of a weighty chariot to the thick waist belt of steed 88.
Nearby she spies the amazingly athletic physique of 127... the rippling abdominal muscles, furled buttocks, thighs of black iron. She is tethered to a light pony cart, a male member standing nearby, sjambok at the ready, enthused with his power... the prospect of putting the former track star through a brisk and challenging workout.
“Water him well,” the command returning her attention. “And a little more fluffing won’t hurt,” Miss Penny’s directives to bring further delay, knowing her human canine is most eager to run for her.
128 obediently squeezes a plastic water bottle, the contents known to be the salted water which brings constant thirst. In doing so, she draws 88’s face and head to her massive breasts then lowers her free hand to once again diddle the tiny but oh so significant patch of penile skin not covered in steel. 88 stirs... as does his penis, Miss Penny insisting that her steed show respect with a full hard on.
“Plug his ears. I want him in silence this morning, concentrating on reacting to the reins.”
128 slips the offered plugs into the ear holes then steps to the chariot, oddly finding herself eager for a jaunt through the verdant jungles of the Nusquam compound. It feels good, not being bound and plugged as she is through the long nights. And though the sjambok menaces it is not she threatened.
The left hand tugs at the reins. 88 knows to turn. The right arm rises and delivers a notably crisp stroke of the sjambok to the right buttock. The chariot lurches and rolls... with gusto. The figging indeed makes a steed eager to be run, 128 tells herself. It is only in exuding sweat that the juices can be countered. And somehow the steeds learn that swiftly.
Thus swings of the sjambok are spared. Is 128 disappointed? She asks herself.
“He tugs at his balls with every step. Ironic, is it not 128, forcing the male to not only torment himself but alter as well. He’ll not only have massive balls but they’ll soon be hanging past his knees... ha, ha, ha.”
The chariot is brought to a steady pace. Rivulets of sweat roll, Miss Penny entertains herself with modest but correcting strokes of the sjambok, reveling in her power and control.
“I imagine you feel a degree of sympathy, but actually this protocol is best for males like Balls Martindale... 88. As stated, the self destruct element of his psyche and the status somehow achieved on Wall Street made him dangerous... to himself... to his wife... to the firm and its investors... potentially the entire market. No one resisted my plans when I set him up. And I take care of his wife. So he’s not missed.”
So it is true. Miss Penny Osborne... lesbian... bisexual?128 feels emboldened, having heard much of 88’s downfall while being tacked.
“It’s very gracious of you to do that, Miss Penny,” 128 prompts.
“Ha, ha, ha. She’s a randy slut... if Balls only knew. Yes, when in New York she spends weekends at my coop. Naked and in chains, I’ll take her anally with my Feeldoe. Then sometime Sunday night, masturbate her with a vibrator... maybe have her come for me... maybe not... then send her home with a little cash. She needs the money and appreciates the stay... somewhat. Living in a tiny rundown apartment in a seedy area of the Bronx is a little traumatic for her after Balls here lost the mansion.”
“He told me you set him up,” 128 brazenly offers.
“I did indeed. He doesn’t know the full story. That I conspired with all the competing traders he’d screwed over the years... screwed along with their wives. Being impulsive and impertinent, I knew he’d fail to follow up on the misinformation I gave him. No, he jumped in and sold and sold and sold. More shares then he could ever borrow... the dumb bastard. Meanwhile, to protect the firm... protect my job... I conversely purchased options... the right to buy the very same stock at a built in price. He was the one who gave me a small book to run... a mere million or two... and I used the funds judiciously... more than covering his exposure.
“When set... I leaked his precarious trading position and the sharks had a feast. It’s termed a short squeeze. He couldn’t cover... and I made sure the SEC knew it... and the managing partners. And that they also knew I saved the firm from financial ruin with my options. So I now have the esteemed title once held by Balls Martindale... and I also have him... and his wife... ha, ha, ha.”
An enthused Miss Penny lashes out, exuberant in once again celebrating her victory with a nasty stroke of the sjambok.
“Yes, overall the firm made net money on the trades, despite the ineptitude and lacking ethics of Balls Martindale. And though my own ethics may be questioned, profits speak on Wall Street... loudly... louder than anything,” the lecture coming with another vicious stroke of the sjambok.
The narrow path, seemingly chiseled through the dense jungle, brings the chariot to a clearing. Miss Penny tugs at the reins, a heavily perspiring human steed grateful for a respite. 128 notes a picnic table and alongside one of the many waist high stanchions... for sodomy.
“Girls like you don’t thrill with the power. It’s not within your psychological make up. But I assure you it’s addictive... as addictive as ceding it in your case. Hood him and turn him over the sodomy stanchion,” Miss Penny handing over the reins. “If you have not before seen a man being fucked... begging a woman for mercy... I think you’ll be amused. His wife takes it so much better...” a smiling Miss Penny holding up a previously unseen double dildo.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Lick it clean for me,” Miss Penny commands, handing 128 a well worn cylinder of blue latex.
The words end the distraction, 128 marveling at the shapely thighs and buttocks of the tall blonde. Even her mons, chicly trimmed, labia perfectly symmetrical, is glamorous. Though 128 finds envy she must turn her attention. The curiously shaped Feeldo is repulsive, odorous, still warm from the friction of 88’s sphincter. Yet there is obedience... to serve
and please... the role of subjugant 128 pounded into electronic ear pieces hour after hour, night after night. Thus she licks, observing as from under 88’s hood Miss Penny pries away the deafening ear plugs.
“I’m not sure I know who I enjoy sodomizing more... you or your whore wife. She’s not as tight, but so much better works her cheeks to maximize my pleasure. She’s orally proficient as well, Balls. Both cunts and cocks... licking like a slut... and she has so much learned to enjoy.”
The well worn steed futilely stirs in his tight bounds, images of his wife orally serving disturbing... and he no doubt imagines with reluctant zeal. Miss Penny laughs at his reaction, turning her attention to128 as the subjugant begins laving her tongue over the wet bulbous female end of the Feeldo.
“Yes, since Mrs. Martindale finds herself impoverished due to the imprudent impulses of her husband... rogue trader Balls Martindale... during the week I have the little whore sucking cocks for money. The cover is that of an office cleaning woman. Yes she’ll come to your office ostensibly to clean... but strip naked... work in the nude and on her knees. I will have to get some photographs for you 88. I arranged for her to clean the offices of all your former trading rivals. You can appreciate the sense of revenge in being fellated by the wife of the man who cuckolded them.”
With her words a hand reaches to the testicles straps, offering a playful tug. Her efforts bring a lurch, resulting in a wicked smile. Then the hand glides to the steel encased penis, diddling evanescently the small exposed patch of penile flesh, highlighting the frustration both mental and physical. The steel tube twitches, the penis within stiffening anew, so responsive to a woman’s brief touch.
“She earns ten dollars for every blow job, 88. So you can only imagine how hard she must work to support herself, ha, ha, ha.”
The hand retracts and reaches for the beige jodhpurs, removed and discarded for the slow and agonizing sodomy of 88’s backside. 128 is disappointed to see her dress, her body attracts.
“Actually Mrs. Martindale does more than suck off the traders. For extra dollars she’ll put on a show. I am told kneeling on all fours atop a conference room table is a typical scenario. Head down, tits dangling, thighs well spread... she’s quite the exhibitionist. For 20 dollars she’ll piss in an ash tray for a group of garish horny guys. And some demented bastard had her defecating for a bunch testosterone infused traders. Sick... but that’s Wall Street. And it’s why I am fattening her. Too shapely... just a little too much lustful pride. 40 or 50 pounds should end that... wouldn’t you agree 88? Shape your wife like a toad... maybe a hog would be more apt. That would end those shenanigans. Thereafter she’ll just suck and lick... cocks and cunts.”
Having dressed, Miss Penny whisks away the hood, returning the sight of her steed.
“Offer him some of your essence 128. He’s no doubt thirsty, and I suspect your quim needs some attention. You can fully open yourself. He’s well trained.”
The right hand works to gruffly slip aside the snaffle bit. 88 gasps in pain, wincing as the index finger of the left hand hooks the nostril ring and lifts, presenting tongue and lips as 128 knows to obediently step forth. She indeed is in need of emptying herself... and concupiscent, the demonstration of feminine power, though expended on a male, found to be strangely arousing.
Though shy, 128 knows to position and open her bladder, the Miss Penny’s sjambok ready to counter disobedience.
“You should know 88, that as your wife’s pimp, I get a healthy cut of what the traders truly pay for her debaucherous exhibitions and leisurely blow jobs. I’ve been putting the money aside and in time I’ll have enough to arrange for her a new life at Nusquam. I like the irony of having her work so hard... humiliating herself to earn placement in unending bondage and humiliation... and I think she’ll enjoy it here. Not much of a life left for her... thanks to your brazen stupidity. Perhaps for her it will be the milking parlor. You’d like that wouldn’t you?.. seeing your wife being milked... letting down for the quirky members into the lactation scene.”
Chapter Thirty
Having departed to return to New York, in the absence of Miss Penny Osborne 128 finds her grooming chores to be greatly diminished.
After being freed of her stressful nightly bondage she daily reports to the stables, there to feed 88. Thereafter she walks him. Ankles hobbled, wrists as always tethered behind his back, a leash clipped to his testicle rings, she leads to the paddock area, 88 shuffling rapidly to keep up. Many laps about, a Mastiff also saunters, observing, knowing to growl in warning if there is any equine resistance or misconduct, and just as importantly if there comes intimate touching, whether it be stimulating 88 to excess or 128 copping a feel of her own excited love nest.
Yes, 128 senses odd satisfaction in being so empowered. Leading a male about by his balls... massive balls... stretched scrotal sac seeming unending... is new to her... and curiously exciting. Her masochistic psyche senses 88’s shame, his embarrassment in being so directed... and this brings dichotomous arousal. She also notes the status of his penis... her nakedness, his constant chastity, bringing an amusing priapic reaction. Yes, she walks him about stiff, the steed’s reaction ingrained, his condition amusing passing members... male and female.
Ah, such frustration. And he has yet to be broken, defiance remaining, terming the woman plotting his downfall a ‘beesh’. And the ongoing belligerence seems to enthuse Miss Penny even more... her vengeance for having to perform orally not to end.
Moderate exercise and 88 is returned to his stall, hosed down and tenderly scrubbed. With the nose chain hooked high, the remainder of the day 88 idly stands... and stands... and stands... no doubt wishing for the end of the boredom and slowly building ceaseless stress... yet there is the irony that this will come only with the return of the woman who has mastered him. Then she will again run him, figged and in harness.
For 128 the remainder of the day is spent freely, if being closely supervised by massive canines can be so described. And for her there comes a different level of stress as in randomly encountering Nusquam members. Deviant... dominating... and sadistic... there is a countless variety of antics demanded.
Most prevalent is to serve as a receptacle, male members rarely utilizing any facility other than a human toilet. And there are the sodomy stanchions... innumerable... ubiquitous... and well worn, the horizontal planks evidencing frequent use as the tummies of well tethered subjugants, struggling under the discomfort of oral or anal sodomy, friction to rub smooth the hard wooden surface.
So 128 is cautious, when necessary obediently serving to please, fearing quick corrective strokes of the wicked sjambok. But she also seeks to avoid, with equal caution eluding encounters with members as best she can.
Still, a day rarely ends without fellatio... deep, brusque, the taste of thick sperm only countered by offerings of salted water which serve to enhance her constant thirst.
Four days after Miss Jenny’s return to the caverns of Wall Street, daily chores completed, 128 departs 88’s stall, tiptoeing past the coal black nakedness of 127, noting her prominent buttocks are well welted after an early morning run. The human equine seems even more muscular, a high protein special diet and constant exercise augmenting an incredibly athletic physique. 128 marvels. As Nurse Kelly explained many months ago, the level of care for the subjugants of Nusquam is boundless, 127 sure to serve... be run to exhaustion in harness... for years to come.
128 nods in greeting. 127 knows to remain obediently silent, her return gesture causing to ring a small bell hooked to her nose piercing, the sound, the constant feel no doubt highlighting her sense of being owned and under total control.
128 moves onward to peek from the stable door, as always seeking to minimize encounters with members demanding some form of degrading servitude. Seeing a couple strolling in the distance, backs toward her, she concludes a dash to the low cinder block building where she is fed, bathed and bedded can be stealthily achieved.
She exits. Feet prancing in
haste, she visually examines the couple, holding hands. The woman is Caucasian, dressed in a flowing silk sarong of white, its sheerness giving way to the light breezes of the tropics and bringing comfort. The man is of bronze. He is tall, naked, and muscular. The dearth of steel bands, his left buttock devoid of a keloided letter ‘N’, suggest he is not a subjugant. Still, there seems to be an exchange of power... she fully clothed.... he naked... and the feminine hand seems to subtly guide.
Having to move in their direction, the dormitory building beckons. She nears, the couple’s steps casual. On toes, 128 moves concentrating on quiet, postulating she can enter the dorm unseen and surrender herself to a tending nurse for a supervised toilet visit and possible bath.
Alas, Rex, one of the many Mastiffs, intercedes. Resting at the dormitory door, he barks in greeting, alerting the clothed woman, naked male. Mere yards from her destination, heads turn. The woman also seems to bark.
“Stop.”
Though the voice sonorous, 128 understands the word to be a command. The woman no doubt a member, 128 to serve and please, she obeys, knowing to place her hands atop her head and await more directives.
The duo turns to face her. The woman wriggles her finger, come hither. 128 knows to change her route. Her gambit failing, the relative tranquility of the dorm denied, she indeed comes hither.
Chapter Thirty-One
As 128 nears, there comes familiarity. The woman is stunningly gorgeous, well coifed raven hair, the shifting sarong hinting at perfect form. 128 has before seen her... not at Nusquam. Movies... television... she is no doubt as famous as she is beauteous. Bald, branded and tattooed 128’s sense of inferiority pervades as does her envy. Then a name is recalled. It is Hollywood actress Florence Gale, her amazing talent exceeding her looks.
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