by Paul Moore
“Hi, I’m Morgan, but I guess they call me Jenny.”
The black girl turned her head slowly, as though some minor annoyance had attracted her attention. “I know who you are,” she said. Her voice was a low rumble. “Everybody does. You’re the big ass super star. That don’t mean shit where I come from. So don’t go getting all diva on me. I don’t care if you and Button bump pussies all night, but you keep away from Tinka here.”
She slapped the blonde’s ass hard enough to make her yelp and look up reproachfully. “This is my bitch.”
It was a challenge that Jenny didn’t care to answer. She had no quarrel with this girl, and couldn’t understand what she could have done to provoke such hostility. Pride tempted her to respond in kind, but she might need all of the friends she could get. Anyway. The girl looked formidable, and Jenny could easily imagine that the wrong word might bring this girl charging across the room, snarling like a black leopard, all claws and fangs. Button was warning Jenny with furtive nudges, so discretion won.
“I’m here to run,” said Jenny. “That’s all I want to do.”
The black girl went back to ignoring her and picked up her dumbbell again.
“That’s Dusk,” Button whispered. “Don’t fuck with her. She’s one of Lady G’s girls.”
Jenny kept her sandals on while she was crossing the courtyard, but she took them off as soon as the maid let her into the main house; because that was what Soupcan had told her to do. The idea was to arrive naked, but keep her feet clean and unbruised on the way.
The maid stood uncertainly by while Jenny unlaced her sandals. The maid’s uniform was no more than a brief apron and a small cap. She was a tiny Asian girl, perhaps younger than Jenny, and she behaved as though she were still unsure of her duties. She seemed to be uncomfortable with Sarah’s habit of receiving naked evening visitors. Being a naked visitor herself, Jenny could sympathize. Perhaps the maid had kept an ear to Sarah’s bedroom door on other evenings and was intrigued by what she had overheard. As she led Jenny toward the rear of the house, she offered a view of her pink and very bare bottom. Jenny decided that she hadn’t been whipped, for awhile at least, and wondered if she ranked above or below the pony girls on the ranch hierarchy.
The house was as exuberantly ‘Western’ as the rest of the ranch, approaching self parody. It was built of huge logs, stripped of bark and sealed with varnish. The rafters were exposed high overhead, and a wall of huge windows in the main room provided a view of distant mountains by day and starlit sky by night. The floor was flagstone. The furniture was low and roughhewn, upholstered with patterns plagiarized from the Navaho.
The footboard of Sarah’s bed was made from half of a large wagon wheel. The other half of the wheel was the headboard. Sarah wasn’t in the bed when the maid ushered Jenny into the bedroom. She was seated at a roll top desk doing paperwork by the light of a computer screen. She looked up just long enough to acknowledge her visitors, dismiss the maid with a smile and a nod, and point to a spot on the floor beside her.
“Kneel.”
Jenny settled herself as gracefully as she could. There was a throw cushion on the floor for her. She couldn’t identify the species of animal pelt that covered it, but it felt sensual against her skin. She guessed that Sarah probably had a girl beside her most evenings. As the new arrival, Jenny was the obvious choice for this night. She wondered if the others considered it an honor to be summoned, or a hardship duty.
Sarah hardly bothered to glance at Jenny. She turned her attention back to the papers before her instead. Jenny scanned the room, noticing the flush rings mounted on the posts and beams that were the bedroom’s structural supports. They might have been part of the rustic decor, as meaningless as the horse shoe hanging over the door, but the height and arrangement of the rings suggested more sinister possibilities.
Yes, she had guessed right. There was a bullwhip coiled around a shaker peg above the headboard. The well worn leather bespoke long practice.
“Stop quaking,” said Sarah dryly, without looking up. “That monster would rip meat off your bones. I prefer to keep my mounts intact.”
Jenny startled guiltily, facing front. “Yes, Ma’am.”
Sarah wrote something, frowned at it, and turned pages in her ledger. Jenny kept her eyes down, blushing. It had been too easy to think herself unobserved. She made a mental note not to underestimate Sarah again.
After awhile, Sarah sighed, switched off the computer and rubbed her eyes with her palms.
“You aren’t from the East coast, are you?”
The question was incongruous, the sort of icebreaker she might ask a stranger at a party to get her talking about herself.
“No, Ma’am.”
“That’s good.” Sarah stood up and pulled her tank top over her head. Her breasts were smallish, but high and well formed with dark nipples. Her stomach was hard and flat. Below that, she was wearing black leather chaps with nothing beneath. Framed by the leather, her pale pubic mound with its heavy growth of bush seemed doubly obscene. She still had her boots on.
Sarah was naked in every way that really mattered, yet the chaps and boots were emblems of a sort. She wasn’t wearing much, but it was still more than Jenny had. A small whip dangled from the belt holding up her chaps.
“Folks on the coast think that we’re a bunch of inbred barbarians out here. I wouldn’t want to waste time re-educating you on that.”
“I’m from a small town,” said Jenny. “It’s mostly working class and mid west. Nobody there thinks that they are in any way special.” Too late, she realized that she hadn’t been asked a direct question, and might be speaking out of turn. She glanced at Sarah to see if she was in trouble, but Sarah was more concerned with fishing through her desk drawer for a fresh pack of cigarettes. Lighting one, she sat down again, swiveling the chair to face Jenny and leaning back..
“I was expecting something different,” she said, blowing smoke up at the ceiling fan. “Frisk talked you up so much I thought you were going to come in here full of bad attitudes, try to run things maybe.”
Apparently Sarah wasn’t the only one who expected that, thought Jenny. Dusk had warned her about ‘getting all diva’.
“I’m just here to run, Ma’am,” she said.
Sarah nodded, “I believe that you are. In a way, that still makes you a special case. Most of the girls who come here are garden variety sluts, just trophies for some old coot to show off. They look real cute high stepping around the ring in a patent leather harness, but you will never meet a more tiresome gaggle of prima donnas this side of Beverly Hills. Oh they are a ball in the sack, after I get them to understand that this isn’t just about their pleasure. ”
Jenny was tempted to laugh along and exploit this moment. It would be easy to think that Sarah was bonding with her in some intimate way. Other girls had occupied this cushion. Some of them may have let themselves believe that they might earn a special place in Sarah’s esteem, perhaps even win her heart. It could be a dangerous sort of self delusion.
“Yes, Ma’am”
Sarah regarded her for a moment, as though checking her tone of voice for irony. Then she held a booted foot up in front of Jenny’s face. “Take that off for me.”
Jenny eased the boot off. When she saw Sarah’s toes wiggling, she decoded the silent message and removed the sock as well. Sarah sighed and held up the other foot.
“I just found out today why you really came here, you know, the sick brother thing. It blew me away, frankly. A sense of duty is a rare thing. Most of the stock I get need to be driven. You drive yourself.”
Jenny bared Sarah’s other foot.
“That doesn’t mean I will treat you better, only different.” Sarah’s toes caressed jenny’s cheek. “You’re still going to lick my holes and polish my boots, and massage my feet.”
Jenny took her cue, noting that the toes she was rubbing had been pedicured to perfection, no doubt by another girl on another night.
“I see that you don�
�t have any tattoos. That’s getting to be a rare thing these days, but I like it. No piercings either, are you afraid of needles?”
Jenny applied herself to her work, uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation.
“Isn’t everyone? Ma’am?”
Sarah leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Ummm, not really. Button practically begged for her nipple rings. Of course, that is one of the more painful piercings. I guess you wouldn’t care for a matching pair?”
Jenny shuddered. “No, Ma’am.”
“I suppose branding is out too then?”
The distraught look on Jenny’s face made Sarah laugh.
“I’m joking. I wouldn’t think of disfiguring your beautiful body with something so hideous. Anyway, your contract has a life span, but a brand is forever.”
Jenny relaxed a bit. Sarah might be a hard task mistress, but she wasn’t unnecessarily cruel.
“What do you expect of me, Ma’am,” Jenny asked.
“You’re going to train hard all day, because I like to see girls sweat. You’ll bend over for the grooms, because I like to hear girls moan. You’ll feel my leather now and then, because I like to hear girls scream.”
The heel of the foot Jenny was not rubbing rested lightly on top of her head. “The other girls came here already wanting those things. The problem with them is to keep the horny little mares moving around the track. You’re a horse of a different color. You came here to serve a noble cause. What you haven’t considered is the possibility that your sacrifice may open you in ways you never expected.” She stabbed out her cigarette in an ashtray atop the desk.
The drawer beside Sarah squeaked as she opened it. Reaching in, she removed a dozen latex anal plugs and arranged them in a line according to size. “For example, most of the girls who come here have been playing pony girl games at the amateur level for some time. They are accustomed to wearing a tail plug, and well acquainted with anal sex. I suspect that you are not.”
She passed her hand slowly over the array and rejected the most slender models before she settled on one that was on the small side of medium. Picking it up, she asked:
“Soupcan taught you the proper cleanup procedure today?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Jenny blushed at the memory.
After dinner, Soupcan had taken her back to the shower room alone. His demonstration of douche and enema technique had been thorough and humiliating. He had decided to repeat the lesson, so Jenny wouldn’t forget. She had been well lubricated with soap each time the thick nozzle sought her openings, and the extra care he had taken with her ass made his personal preference quite clear. He had thick fingers, and at least two of them worked into her as she crouched face down on the wet tile floor. They twisted and squirmed deep within while she arched her back and made guttural sounds that he only found amusing. Eventually the fingers took their leave, but only to make way for a dribbling nozzle. The water he injected into her was uncomfortably hot. When she politely complained about that, he made her raise her ass high for correction with his nasty little whip, then used cold water instead. She quickly realized that it was no improvement.
She was required to suck his cock before he let her have a towel. This time Button wasn’t there to help her finish him, so she swallowed most of his discharge, and licked the rest off the tiles while his whip corrected her again for her sloppiness.
Through it all, he kept a monologue going, telling her how he expected to use her soon, and often, and repeatedly. She hoped it was mere idle boasting, but the way his hands clamped down on her shaven temples as she choked on him, eyes streaming and jaw aching, told her that he would be just as ruthless in his use of her ass when the time came.
When it came to touching up the stubble of her pubic hair, he let her take care of the chore herself; though he watched her work. She sat on the floor with a mirror between her legs as she awkwardly lathered and scraped, and he stood by with folded arms, chatting amiably while he waited to rinse away the soap with a garden hose. He had checked her for smoothness with rough fingers and patted her bottom to send her on her way.
The cowgirl slipped on a pair of rubber gloves and opened a jar filled with an amber cream.
“Stand up and bend over.”
Jenny didn’t need to be told that she was expected to turn around first. The cowgirl stood behind her, tracing fingertips over her buttocks and playfully up and down her crack. “I see that Soupcan freshened up your marks for me.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“The way that you carried on when I took my belt to you on the road, you must have thought I was ripping you up. I’m sure you managed to sneak a peek at yourself sometime today. Nothing to write home about, is it? A few red marks, that’s all. They will fade in a couple of days, but you will have new ones to replace them before long. You will soon discover that your hide is tougher than you thought.”
It was true, Jenny realized. Once she got over the shocking pain of her thrashing, the revelation that this woman enjoyed beating her, required no other reason, and intended to do it often; she discovered that the pain receded quickly, leaving only a lingering prickling sensation and an emotionally charged memory.
As she spoke, Sarah’s fingers were dipping into the jar and emerging coated with grease. She used one hand to spread Jenny’s cheeks while the other stabbed into her. The cream was cold at first, then Jenny began to feel a tingling heat deep within as her body began to absorb it. The sharp sensation alarmed her, and she began to straighten up with a soft exclamation. Sarah’s hand fell heavily on her neck, holding her down.
“Shush!” Sarah admonished softly. “It’s nothing, just something to relax the muscles. If I wanted to cause you distress, I would have used the ginger.”
When Jenny stopped resisting, Sarah let go of her neck and put her other hand between Jenny’s thighs, reaching around to explore her puss. Jenny was abruptly aware that she was getting wet there, and shuddered with sudden pleasure as Sarah’s fingertips found the swelling nub of her clit.
Button had warned her that the supercharged sexual atmosphere of the ranch was infectious. She had been whipped and insulted, sexually abused in the rudest manner, and publicly humiliated. None of these circumstances had ever been a part of her sexual fantasies before, yet she was discovering an unsuspected appetite for them. This day had been filled with surprises.
Sarah’s hands were well practiced and knowing. Jenny actually began to relax and enjoy the smooth way the cowgirl’s fingers drifted in and out of her holes, and hardly noticed when the plug slipped into her. She felt only a brief awareness of stretching before the ring of muscle closed over the narrower neck of the plug, sucking it into her and hugging it tight.
Sarah patted Jenny’s bottom and stripped off the gloves. “There now. We’ll just leave that to do its work while we visit. Tomorrow Soupcan will have a bigger one for you to wear while you work in the training ring. We’ll have you ready for action in no time.”
Jenny glanced at the array of plugs anxiously. They had been set out there deliberately, so that she could see what was in store for her. The object inside of her was only large enough to be a constant annoyance, a prodding reminder that her body had become a plaything for others. The progression ahead seemed impossible. The largest sizes, she was sure, had been placed there merely to frighten her. They couldn’t possibly fit, and she would be injured if anyone tried to force them. Yet how far down that column would she be expected to advance?
She knew the answer to that question—Easy access. She would be opened to accommodate a plug slightly thicker than Soupcan’s cock. He wanted her, and he only wanted her in one particular way. He had made it clear that her now aching jaw was a second choice, and her now dripping pussy was beneath notice.
But only for him.
Sarah’s heavy hand fell upon Jenny’s head once more, holding her bent over while the cowgirl’s other hand returned to Jenny’s hungry puss. The fingers that slipped so easily into her were bare now. J
enny could feel the pressure of them more than ever with the plug filling her other hole. Sarah playfully rubbed a fingertip over the partition between, tracing the contours of the plug, then rotated her wrist to transfer her attention to Jenny’s “G” spot. Jenny gasped.
Sarah laughed softly..
“It has been awhile for you, hasn’t it? All work and no play, hmmm? You were all closed off sexually, because there was no time or energy left for fun. Well, you no longer have a duty to your family or your boss. You don’t have bills to pay or decisions to make while you are here. We have set you free of all that. Now life is simple—obey, endure, and sometimes enjoy. Perhaps you think that plug you’re wearing is just to indulge a whim of your trainers. You think that it is only meant to hurt and humiliate. It nags at you, doesn’t it? It feels like a splinter in your finger or grit in your eye. You want to be rid of it, but learning to relax and accept what you cannot change is a part of your training. You must become compliant.”
Jenny’s fingers clutched her knees as she whimpered with a raw pleasure that was nearly too intense to bear. The hand that had been on her head was wandering over her breasts, pinching her nipples hard. It was all she could do not to swat it away, yet even the pain was a sensual stimulant.
“Yesss! It’s good. I know. What sort of Mistress would I be if I didn’t take care of your needs as well? You will learn to fear me in the days ahead, but you will love me as well. All of the girls do. Just don’t go getting notions about being my one and only.”
Jenny had a moment of awful clarity, seeing herself as she was, naked and bent over, legs splayed, while another woman casually violated her. The ranch had already taken her beyond humiliation. Useless pride had been cast aside with her clothing. She was a shameless animal, like an itching dog that rolls over and offers its belly, begging to be scratched.
“Come for me now, come hard.”
The climax hit like a thunderbolt, powerful, unexpected, and devastating. Jenny’s knees buckled and she slumped to a kneeling position.
Sarah gave her no time to catch her breath. One hand clamped over Jenny’s forehead and lifted her face. The other hand swam into her sight, curled into a fist with two fingers extended. “V” for victory? Then Jenny understood, and opened her mouth to clean the fingers that had just pleasured her.