by beltedone
9 was standing next to 6 and the other slaves. She reached over and squeezed 9’s hand, and they both got a strong static electric shock. They pulled their hands apart. 9 looked at 6 and she smiled, leaned over and whispered, “We have electricity, babe. Be strong, honey. You can do this.” Then the slaves were chosen to service their guests. One slave per couple.
What commenced would make a Roman-orgy participant blush. Clothes came off. Tuxes and formal gowns were quickly strewn on the floor as the corporate vampires proceeded to devour the tasty, beautiful, young flesh before them. If they only wanted blood. These predators wanted their innocence.
9 saw Eve eying him and gulped saying to himself, “Please don’t let her pick me.”
That is exactly what happened. The other guests picked the more experienced slaves. Only Eve knew 9. She pulled him to her husband and said, “This is the one I told you about. He was so disrespectful. Monica was only trying to discipline the blond whore, and he tried to stop it. We have to show him his place.”
Hubby snickered and said, “Sissy boys should be perfectly obedient. And he will be when we are done with him.”
For the next 3 hours, the slaves were used and used again.
9 was paddled by Max to improve his attitude while Eve held his hands on the table. She seemed to delight in looking at 9’s expression as if he were a bug she was torturing.
Each slap of the paddle sent him deeper into subspace. That is one thing 6 taught him during their long talks—to go into subspace when something was happening to him that he didn’t like. 6 taught him that he could go into a meditative state where no one could hurt him. He had only wished he’d have known about subspace when his father was making him feel like shit.
After a while, 9 did not feel the pain. He was in a field with 6. They were rolling around in the grass. It was a sunny day, and they were both smiling and laughing. There was no Institute. There was only 6 wrestling with 9, and 6 was winning, pinning him down in the grass and kissing him on the lips hard.
He startled awake, and Eve was kissing his mouth, and he groaned in frustration because Eve was no 6. Eve was cruel and mean.
9 was raped anally by Eve while Max took his mouth. Max came so hard that the condom filled with fluid down 9’s throat, and he gagged on the long, thick cock. Tears rolled down his eyes as he thought he’d pass out from lack of air. Then, they switched places. It felt to 9 like they were trying to use their cocks, one at each end, to meet in the middle. Over and over, his orifices were filled, and he felt ejaculate inside him.
Eve delighted in spanking 9 and asking him how if felt.
Max delighted in his humiliation, saying, “What kind of a man allows himself to be treated like this? What kind of pussy-whipped, poor excuse for a male allows a female to spank his ass?”
Eve replied, “Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it. I hear the Smithers account is your last chance to redeem yourself at your firm. Blow it and you’ll get more than a spanking.”
Max replied, “I’ll do what I have to do. I have it under control.”
“I swear, if you blow it, you’ll be my bitch and be blowing guys for quarters.”
9 then licked Eve to multiple orgasms, finding that g-spot that sent a flood of female fluid over his face.
Max laughed as he watched 9 being sprayed.
At one point, 6, who had exhausted her couple, came over and took on Max to give 9 a chance to recover.
9 was so grateful, he could almost cry. He was only servicing Eve with his tongue and had her just at the point of orgasm. He held her there as long as he could, extending the moment and suddenly realizing that the slave in the end has a great deal of power in the Master/slave relationship. He realized there comes a point when there is complete role reversal. As his tongue dictated to Eve what she was feeling, 9 knew he was in control for those seconds and held her at the edge for as long as possible, almost making her go into subspace. He made her breathe in short gulps. He made her stop breathing, and he made her orgasm so hard, she screamed.
Later in his cell, he would tell 6 that he called it his heaven-and-hell technique.
She replied that the successful heaven can be useful. If prolonged too long, it can get one’s ass whipped.
Bodies mingled with bodies in a huge mass of naked desire. Legs, cocks, breasts, and pussies all were together in one hungry, writhing beast. And the beast was insatiable. Moans and screams came from the beast at intervals. Bodies in orgasm, jerking and spasming were everywhere. Some lay crumpled on the floor in a large mass. Some slaves were still looking for cocks to suck, pussies to lick, and asses to ream.
Gradually, more and more were exhausted and lay on the floor spent or clutching their partner. Eventually, there was complete quiet, and as a popular singer has said, “Sex in the air, I love the smell of it.” The scent of sex, sweat, and expensive perfume filled the air.
Lady Victoria took no part in the festivities but sat in a high-back, wooden throne chair and watched. She tried to smile, but it was hard for her to keep the revulsion off her face. She occasionally took a drink of merlot or called Wo Tun over to whisper something in his ear and point. She occasionally smiled at a comment a participant made or offered a slave advice.
At midnight, she stood and said, “Thank you for attending our party. I hope to see you again at our next gathering. It will be a Roman orgy with roast pigs, strong wines, loose togas, and looser slaves.”
She smiled at various members of the groups who knew it was time to go. She had a way about her. People did what she said. They stared into those icy green eyes and did what they were told.
A tired hurrah went up from the assembled group, and they searched for their clothes. The slaves stood and trooped out to the showers and then to the cells, dead tired. There would be a dining room to clean and a kitchen to take care of in the morning.
6 and 9 discussed the activities before going to bed.
“This is a crazy place,” 9 said.
“Go to sleep, 9; we will have more people to service tomorrow. I hear we have a couples’ brunch and a guys’ night out tomorrow. You’ll love fluffing.”
“Fluffing?”
“Yes, honey, don’t worry. I’ll teach you how to do it right. I’m an expert fluffer.”
CHAPTER SEVEN -
Ponies at Play
6 woke up in the back of an enclosed trailer, moving down the highway at a high rate of speed. It was pitch black in the back, and she was bouncing on the floor with each bump the trailer took. It was hot as hell in the trailer and smelled of horse, namely horse droppings. 6 put her hand on the floor and then brought her hand up to her face and could smell it.
6 again cursed Lady Victoria’s sense of humor and the gas jets in her cell that could put a slave to sleep at a moment’s notice. It wasn’t the first time she had awakened in a strange place. She felt around and found that another slave was in the trailer with her. From the muscles and the lack of breasts, he deduced it was a male and surmised it was 9. What the hell does the evil queen have planned for us, she wondered.
It would take an hour before the car and trailer would leave the highway, go onto a small stop-and-go road, then down a long gravel road until they stopped completely.
9 was waking up and said, “What the hell?”
6 shushed him. “I’ve been on a few of Lady V’s field trips. They are never much fun. Just stay close to me, and do what I say. I’ll keep you safe.”
9 was beginning to trust 6, and he kissed her cheek. They held each other during the rest of the ride. The gentleness of the kiss touched 6’s heart.
After a few minutes, the door to the back of the trailer opened, and they were roughly pulled out of the van into the light. They both blinked in the sunlight of the arena. They were in front of a barn-like structure in rolling farm country. After being locked up in the Institute for months, the outside was disconcerting.
“Are these the animals you are thinking of training?”
Th
e voice belonged to a 40-ish, blonde female in black boots, tight, black riding pants, and an immaculately starched white blouse. She was a large woman, full-figured, who carried herself with the bearing of a countess—the shoulders were back, and the back was ramrod straight. She was also carrying a crop, which she slapped into her gloved palm. She was standing next to Lady Victoria, who was uncharacteristically dressed in khaki pants and a pink polo shirt and a khaki blazer.
9, disoriented from the trip, made the mistake of saying, “What the hell? Where are we?”
The blonde said with an upper-crust British accent, “Quiet. Animals do not speak here. Another word and you will be thrashed. The nerve.”
That got 9’s attention.
The blonde, who turned out to be “The Duchess,” looked at 6 and 9 like they were dumb animals.
“Stand up straight,” she barked.
6 and 9 quickly complied.
She walked around the two slaves, making comments and asked questions as she inspected them. She actually pulled 9’s teeth apart and checked his gums. She touched and squeezed 6’s buns. 6 squealed and got a smack on her bottom.
“You can whinny here; that is all.”
“Good, no sores. You obviously maintain your animals.”
“They are well fed and exercised daily by my man who has military training.”
“Very good. I can tell by the small one’s musculature that he has been exercised. Perhaps you could work the chest a bit more.”
“The female is strong and muscular. She would make a fine racing mare. The short male I am not sure about. He might pull a cart around the farm for the ladies and gentlemen who tour the facility and enjoy the races, but he is too puny to be of any use on the track. Perhaps if we grow his hair out, he would be fine as a pretty pony.”
9 bristled at her description but kept his place.
“As we discussed on the phone, I am not here to sell them, merely to use them as subjects so I can observe your training methods. I have several clients who have expressed an interest in human pony rides through Central Park at night. One couple would like a permanent pony girl to be stabled nearby their home. I think we can send each other business if we can come to an understanding.”
“Yes, let’s go up to the main house for lunch. I’ll have my stable hands get them ready. When we are done eating and discussing terms, we can come down here, and I will give you a demonstration.”
“Great. I’m famished.”
“My stable hands will get them ready.”
“Tony, Pricilla, ready them for training and make sure the male has a tight bit under his tongue so there are no words out of his mouth. He is most disrespectful.”
Two gnomes slinked out of the shadows, and the male gnome uttered, “Yes, Miss. We will have them trussed and ready for you.”
“Make sure they are properly cleaned, dressed, fed, and watered.”
The Duchess turned to Lady Victoria and said, “Could you remove their chastity bands? Our harnesses go between their legs.”
“Of course.” She pressed a button on a bracelet on her arm, and the bands popped open.
9 couldn’t help but to give a sign of relief as his penis was free for the first time in months, but his sigh earned him a dagger gaze from the Lady.
The Duchess and the Lady left them to the tender mercies of the grooms. The barn stank. The grooms stank worse. Their mouths were black holes and their hair greasy. They were a matching pair of unkempt perverts living out their vilest dreams being grooms for the Duchess.
The male, Tony, came directly to 6 and using a cattle prod, applied it to her breast. She yelped as the pain went through her. He used the prod a few more times on her most tender places. He didn’t hesitate a bit with the application of pain. In fact, he enjoyed every shock.
“Does that get your attention? You’re our horses now, and you will do as we say, or you will get more of that. Do you understand? Nod if you do.”
6 nodded in terror at the evil, foul-smelling gnome barely 5 foot tall.
The female, Pricilla, had done the same to 9, bringing him to his knees with shocks to his genitalia.
“We are going to get you ready for display. You will remain perfectly still, or you will get worse. Do you understand?”
Terrified, both 6 and 9 nodded.
As they worked, the scruffy gnomes delighted in discussing their job and what fun it was to work with human horses.
“It’s a shame these two aren’t going to be joining the herd, I’d love to give this one a poke. Look at the shank on her. She could become my top breeder.”
“The stallion is small, but I bet he’s a tiger in the stall,” the female giggled. “I’d ride him all night and into the morning.”
“You see, we do all the serious disciplining here. And we get to choose what the punishment is. So, sometimes it is very important for the horses to serve us. Bad horses get gelded or worse.”
9 was thinking that that comment was more directed at him, and he wished he could make his penis retract into his body.
“Yup, and we don’t mind, male or female, we’ll take turns with either. I have some wicked toys. After a few times in the punishment stalls, the bad horses are perfect.”
* * * *
While the gnomes were working on 6 and 9, Lady Victoria was up at the main house enjoying a light lunch with the Duchess. They discussed various bondage techniques and how difficult it was to find good slaves.
There was a knock on the front door; a servant answered it and brought two men into the dining room. One was Sergi, who explained that he had recently opened a facility in the Brighton Beach area of New York and was thinking of expanding into pony slaves. He heard the Duchess ran the finest facility on the east coast and decided to drive up and observe.
Sergi was rail thin but sinewy and had very short hair that might have been a prison cut. He wore an expensive suit that was a bit too short with too much cuff showing. Lady Victoria wondered who he killed for the suit.
His friend and/or bodyguard was a silent brute with a massive scar down his head that looked like someone tried to split his skull with an axe. His cheap suit had a bulge under one arm that showed he was packing some kind of a weapon.
He and his henchman were invited to lunch and a demonstration. 6 and 9 would be perfect to show what could be done in a few short hours.
Sergi was new to this country and proud of his connections in the international sex trade. From the sound of it, it seems his clientele was not as upscale. Men like Sergi disgusted Lady Victoria. She had heard from some of her slaves of how these men mistreat their slaves, use them, and discard them; sometimes there are accidents and people die. To Sergi, it was all part of doing business.
Sergi was a braggart of the highest order. He swilled the table wine, and the more he drank, the redder his face got. He told of setting up a similar operation in Toronto but had to leave because of warrants the police put out for him. Something to do with missing girls, as if he could keep track of the bitches all the time. They were always running off with johns. How was he to keep track of them—the filthy sluts.
He offered to buy a few sluts from Lady Victoria.
She politely declined, telling him she was short on good talent at the moment and was also looked for a few good sex slaves. The problem was there were many homeless and addicts on the streets, but ones that her clients would enjoy—the young and handsome or pretty—were in short supply.
The Duchess brought the subject back from human trafficking to human horse training.
“The basic human can make an adequate steed if trained properly. I was a noted horse trainer in England for years until I tried training humans and decided it was far more satisfying. I remember my first human horse, so proud, so stubborn. Yet, in the end, she became a perfect pony for her Master. Five years later, I get pictures sent of her in her stable or pulling a cart. Her Master is delighted with her. I sometimes wonder if she remembers her life before being a pony.
“Later, I will show you my Germans. I found them at an after-hours club in Budapest—a huge, decrepit warehouse on the outskirts of town. I remember Rammstein was playing. At least they called it playing. The music was so loud and booming from 6-foot-high speakers. Rammstein was singing their typical guttural sound. The bass speakers were so loud and booming, they hit one like a sledgehammer.
“They were your typical Eurotrash, blond twins. They had minor titles, parents with money, so spoiled, so self-involved. They had the best clothes, the best jewelry, and matching Lamborghinis in the parking lot. They drank, did drugs, partied constantly, and screwed everyone and each other—the very epitome of decadence. I said to myself, ‘What wonderful bone structure they have. And they’d be such a challenge.’ You see, breaking the ones that don’t want to be broken is the sweetest.
“So, I lured them into my limo with the promise of top-grade cocaine and a very good time with my young, handsome escort Rolf. Before they knew what hit them, they were cuffed, gagged, and on a private jet for Westchester. After 2 years of constant training, they are perfect. No team can beat them in a race. No team is more perfect in their movements. They have won top dressage honors at several shows. Another trainer has told me those two could win a dressage competition against horses.
“Their broad, strong bodies are delightful to observe. I wonder sometimes if they retain any of their humanity, if the hours and hours of training and pulling carts has slowly taken that away. But most times, I do not care. They are my prize team. They live in stalls now and are treated like horses in all things. They defecate in the stalls, and I let them run in the ring for exercise. They pull carts for fun and can be quite playful. They take their nutrition in feedbags. A vet looks after their medical needs. I have other horses, but they are my finest.”