Groomed, Trapped, Enslaved. The Complete Story.

by Amelia Stark

  “English, stand still!” THWATT!

  I release a gargled, throaty scream, through the ring gag, when the blow from her crop sends a flash of fire shooting across my buttocks and up my backbone. The hand returns and begins exploring beneath my tail, returning to my smooth cleft, which has begun to exude copious amounts of cunt cream.

  “Sabina, this animal is ripe and raring to go!” the owner of the probing digits exclaims.

  I grunt as he thrusts two fingers along my wet folds and delves straight into my hot fleshy portal. The man begins talking to Sabina across my back, while nonchalantly finger fucking me at the same time, sending waves of humiliation and shame flooding through my body.

  He eventually removes his fingers, pats my butt and moves on, to probably molest and demean another one of the trolley-girls among the melee of spectators. Sabina jerks my reins again and I follow her through the crowd to a white bar fence that surrounds a running track. On top of the fence, chatting to each other, are four dwarf men, dressed as jockeys.

  “Johnny,” Sabina calls.

  The little man in red satin turns to look at us.

  “English whore is ready, so take her for a few practice laps before the race.” He jumps down in front of me and looks into my eyes.

  “Hello green eyes, I’m English too, so be a good girl for me.”

  I can’t move my head, so I try to acknowledge his request by making a noise with my throat. While the assistant removes the straps that are holding me to the trolley, Sabina walks over to where a number of small 2 wheel carts are standing.

  The actual carts are tiny, but the bicycle-like wheels are large. After selecting one, she wheels it over to where I’m standing.

  I’m shivering in the cold mountain air so I’m actually looking forward to running round the track to warm myself up. The midget helps Sabina to guide the twin shafts of the tiny cart through loops along both sides of my corset. A wide yoke with two shoulder hoops is connected to the ends of the shafts and locks onto the metal collar around my neck.

  They fasten a leather strap between the top of my hood and the centre of the yoke. When they tighten the strap, my head is pulled further back, making me scream out in anger. I stomp my feet and try to protest, but I’m totally ignored, and treated like a common animal.

  Once finished, they withdraw the trolley and I’m left to find a comfortable stance between the shafts of the cart. I feel the midget climb into the cart and take the reins from Sabina and wait while she adjusts my tail. Then to my surprise and disbelief, I feel her fingers delving into my tender folds and attaching something to the clamp on my clitoris.

  “There she says,” coming round to stand in front of me. “I want you to enjoy your little run this afternoon.”

  I can feel a weight hanging between my thighs, tugging on the clit clamp. Fucking hell! When the weight swings, the clamp grips my precious clit bauble tighter. What the hell is it going to feel like when I’m running?

  “Now my little filly,” she says with a wicked grin on her face. “A couple of adornments and we’re finished.” I can’t see what she’s doing, because I can’t lower my head and the holes in the leather hood only give me a limited area of vision ahead of me.

  I hear the tinkle of bells and then feel her close clamps onto my cherry-pip nubs. I moan, when dull aches spread across my taught breasts. I’m horrified to see Sabina handing Johnny a long whippy crop, which he snaps in the air aggressively. I feel a tug on the reins and a soft tap on my butt, so I start trotting off in the direction of a gap in the fence.

  They’re using an old athletics track for us to race on, so it’s fully 400 meters in length. The surface has been freshly marked out with four wide lanes, on top of the old running track lines. Once we’re on the hard track, Johnny starts to urge me to run faster and when another Pony-girl trots past me, I decide to pick up speed and try and keep up with her. I’m trotting in the outside lane, so I’m going the long way round, but I easily keep pace behind her little cart.

  I try to find a nice easy stride to make the swinging weights bearable, but I can’t stop them from constantly distracting me. The heavy bells on my nipples swing freely and immediately begin to stretch my tender areolas and nipples painfully. The weight hanging from my clit is even worse, because it keeps banging on my thighs, flying into the air and then dropping to tug my sensitive nub.

  The thing that disturbed me the most though, is the shameful way we’re having to expose ourselves for the Italian spectator’s gratification. The graphic display of the girl’s cunt just ahead of me is so obscene that I feel myself flush at the thought of my own bulging pussy being so visible to the onlookers.

  The constant rocking and rolling of her ass cheeks, along with the pendulum hanging from her straining clitoris has a mesmerising effect on me. However, I’m shocked when I get closer and see that her nub has been stretched by more than an inch, which suggests to me that she’s a regular Pony-girl and races on a frequent basis.

  Her cunt is grossly distended and flappy, signifying that her Master or Mistress have modified her labia in some way to make it look meaty and more animal-like. I suddenly get a horrific thought that Bruno or Sabrina might do the same thing to me if they’re impressed by my performance!

  Although I’ve never been to a gym in my life, I’m a keen walker, so I have particularly strong and shapely legs. A sudden thought strikes me, which becomes almost a certainty in my mind. Bruno saw the live streaming of me performing in the live cam rooms. Did he decide then that I looked like the correct shape to be trained as a Pony-girl?

  Is this what the whole slavery thing is all about? Tricking me to come to Italy? Hoods and sensory deprivation? Being made to work hard and being put on a crash diet? The severe punishments? I’m such a fool to have fallen for Sergio’s chat-up lines and begin the spiral down into the utter depths of depravity!

  A stinging snap brings me back to reality and the realization that I feel really fit trotting round the track. The corset grips my torso and the shafts of the cart, make me feel as though it’s part of my body. My back is comfortably angled, allowing me to run with my knees bent as though I’m a sprinter.

  “Come on Blue,” Johnny urges me to pass the girl in front and I don’t need to try very hard to go ahead of her.

  I have a real dilemma. How do I put them off the idea of turning me into a Pony-girl? After a couple of circuits Johnny guides me back to where Sabina’s standing and after the dwarf climbs out of the cart, Sabina slides a trolley under me, so I can flop down to rest.

  I’m grateful when she removes a blanket from her bag and throws it over my back, shrouding me in some warmth at last. I’m breathing heavily through the awful ring gag and have broken into a sweat, but I’m pleased to be out in the fresh air, rather than slaving away in the villa. I decide to try and enjoy myself, but not try too hard when they want me to race.

  “She’s okay Miss,” declares the jockey. “We try and win race.”

  “Should I bet to win or each way Johnny? Can she win?”

  “Yes Miss, if I push her hard.” Sabina seems satisfied with his answer and walks away presumably to place a bet on me. I’m horrified when I hear Johnny say he’ll push me hard, for I know it’ll involve the use of his crop and I want to avoid that at all costs.

  Johnny, who’s standing in front of me, leans down and retrieves a large bottle with a feeding tube from the bag and starts to feed me as if I’m a baby. Our eyes are on the same level and it makes a bizarre scene if anyone looked in our direction, for they’d see a dwarf holding a bottle to my mouth, while I’m resting on the trolley.

  Sabina returns and seems pleased with herself.

  “Johnny, I got 4 to 1 on English whore to win, so push her hard.” She came over to me and patted my butt. “You win for me English or you’ll stay in box for 24 hours, you understand?” I grunt more in disgust than agreement, but she takes it that I understand. Fucking hell! The last thing I want, is to be locked in the crate for
a day! While on the other hand I’m in more trouble if I win!

  Chapter 30

  Johnny and Sabina lead me back to the area where the crowds have gathered and we join a queue that’s heading back round toward the race course. I have to stop on a weighing machine without Johnny in the cart and afterwards notice Sabina approach a desk where some official looking men in suits make some notes and hand over some items to her.

  When she returns, she kneels down behind me and detaches the hanging pendant. Then I feel her fasten a different one in its place, and when she lets it drop, I immediately realize that it’s a lot heavier than the original one. Then she removes the bells from my nipples and causes me more pain when she replaces them with heavier adornments.

  Once she’s finished, Johnny returns and with Sabina leads me back to the race track. I’m taken to a parking area where three other Pony-girls, attached to empty carts, are waiting for the current race to finish. Their jockeys are rubbing their legs and thighs down and I can’t help noticing that all the girls have huge fleshy cunts and all have been pierced with one kind of adornment or another.

  However, one girl has a pendent clamped to her clit, while the other two have had metal eyelets punched through their nubs, through which their pendants hang. They have obviously been racing for some time, because their nubs are stretched like the girl’s on the track.

  Johnny turns me, so I can watch the race unfold and what I see can only be described as my worst nightmare. The carts are halfway round their second lap and the jockeys are urging their girls on, by thrashing their butts with their riding crops.

  I find it difficult to watch, especially when I realize that one of the girls is Maria and she’s struggling more than the other three. All the girls have been fitted with weights on their nubs, which are flying around, while the girl’s legs pound along the track. Some of the weights are larger than others, so I guess it’s some kind of handicapping system to even out everyone’s chances.

  Eventually Maria crosses the finishing line right at the back of the field, not far from where I’m resting. Her poor white buttocks and thighs are criss-crossed with angry red lines and she’s looking to be in considerable pain. Her breath steams from her mouth in the freezing air and her breasts heave, showing just how distressed she’s become.

  Bruno grabs her reins and looks thunder struck by her performance. He leads her away, no doubt to hand out a sadistic punishment of some kind to the petrified girl. When the first set of runners have disappeared, it’s our turn to race, so our jockeys lead us toward our starting positions.

  A board on the wall of a small shelter, beside the track, shows the result, in Italian, of the first race, but as I approach I notice it change to the runners of the second race. Third on the list is the name that Sabina has nicknamed me, ‘English Whore’!

  I blush at the thought of all these people thinking I’m a whore, even if I have actually become one! I want to shout out that my name is Judy Swann, but of course I can’t. Johnny leans forward so I can hear his words.

  “Blue, don’t go off too fast. After the first lap, we can change lane, so go for the inside.” I grunt in acknowledgement as best I can. My starting position is in lane 3, near the outside of the track, so I have one girl ahead of me in our staggered starting positions.

  The gun fires, quite close to where I’m standing and shocks me, so I get away to quite a slow start. I started on the bend and it’s a bit depressing to see the young woman ahead, moving away from me as she pounds round the curve, but I increase my pace and soon stop the rot. The hoof/boots give me a solid footing and grip the hard track well. The swinging weights are a distraction and the one on my clit is sending all the wrong signals to my brain, when I really need to concentrate on the race. I put my head down and try to block the distractions out.

  As we enter the back straight, I appear to be doing quite well until the Pony-girl on my left draws level with me. She’s puffing hard and I can hear the sound of the jockey’s riding crop beating against the girl’s bobbing ass cheeks.

  Then Johnny starts to frantically flick the reins, followed by an explosion of pain on the upper slope of my right buttock. Both the girl alongside me and I release agonising howls of pain, as the blows begin to reign down onto our posteriors. I forget about the weights hanging from my nubs for a while, even though the pain from their constant tugging is morphing into something close to arousal.

  We’ve just entered the second curve, when the blows from Johnny’s crop began to take effect, for I gradually began to outpace the young woman on the inside and catch the girl on the outside.

  Seeing that I’m responding, he stops hitting me and begins to urge me on with words instead of blows, which make me a lot happier. As we enter the home straight for the first time, I’m level with the girl in lane four and well ahead of the other two fillies, so when I drop down to lane one, I’m in the lead.

  However, the girl from lane four isn’t giving up and stays level with me until we enter the last bend, at which point, Johnny begins to whip me again. The strokes are coming from his left hand this time, so are landing diagonally across my buttocks the other way.

  The screams from our throats and the jagging pain seems to fill my head, which feels about to explode inside the tight leather hood. The vicious blows to my ass again has the desired effect, for when I enter the final bend I’m in the lead again.

  The moment the girls on my right begin to attack I decide to let them go, in the hope that my performance will ultimately disappoint Sabrina and Bruno. I want to return to England and losing the race is the only way I know how to achieve my aim. But Johnny has other ideas.

  “Come on English!” he yells urging me on by flicking the reins. “Don’t flag now!”

  Despite his desperate words I ease my pace a little allowing both girls to continue to overtake me, knowing that I still have some gas in the tank. However, Johnny has other ideas. SNAP! SNAP!

  “Neeeeeeeeeeiiii!” I squeal, when my vulnerable cunt suddenly explodes.

  Johnny changed weapons and lands two direct blows with his whip on my bulging labia! A terrible, raging fire causes my legs to double their effort as my reflexes take control of my body. SNAP! SNAP!

  “NEEEEEEEEEEEIII!” I scream even louder, when he repeats the dose, sending me back into the lead, where I stay until we cross the finishing line.

  My cunt and body are throbbing with excruciating pain and exhaustion and strangely, elation, despite a flood of hot painful tears streaming from my eyes inside the mask. The idea of losing the race had disappeared and been replaced with elation, because I’ve never won a race of any kind in my life!

  Johnny jumps down and leads me over to Sabina who looks pleased with herself. She slides a trolley under me and I gratefully flop down onto the leather padding.

  “Well done English, Bruno is very pleased with you and will consider you for classification,” she gushes, clearly excited by the thrilling race.

  She starts stroking my blazing buttocks, as if she’s petting an animal, but my adrenalin is still flowing and miss the implications of most of her conversation. I want to protest about any suggestion of delaying my return to England, but I know I have to wait until they remove the hood and gag. Her hand slips lower and I wince when her fingers stroke my bruised and tortured labium folds. She easily finds the swirl of my juicy quim and slips two fingers straight in, so she can stroke the inner walls of my vagina.

  “You deserve a little reward, English whore,” she coos.

  With that she begins to finger fuck me with short sharp thrusts, right out in the open, amidst spectators and trainers, walking to and fro around us. I close my eyes and gratefully descend into a glorious orgasm. Being treated like an animal has switched on every horny receptor in my body and the crack of the whip coupled with being frigged in public, absolutely blows my mind apart.

  Of course, once her fingers are gone and I’m standing alone, I’m filled with shame and mortification and just want th
e nightmare to end. Having sated my animal arousal, Sabina covers me again with the blanket and leads me round the main building and into a long narrow shed-like enclosure. Down the centre are a row of about 20 cubicles, each one divided by a thin plywood wall. She takes me down the line of empty stalls, until we reach the first vacant one, where Sabina stops and leads me inside.

  It’s a tiny booth about six feet wide and ten feet deep. Inside the stall are two rails supported by posts, one in front of the other. Sabina unfastens the straps holding me to the trolley and helps me to my feet.

  Before I have a chance to stretch my muscles, she leads me to the first rail and pushes me against it, so that my upper body falls forward over it. I can see a bracket on the second rail and when Sabina walks round to the side, she pulls me further forward and attaches an eye on my collar to the bracket on the rail.

  Sabina then pulls my feet apart and fastens my ankles to the supporting posts either side of me. It all happens so fast that I find myself in a dreadfully uncompromising position before I know what’s happening.

  “Right my English whore, you can rest here. One of the trainers will come and feed you and then your horny animal cunt will be treated to a cock fest as a special reward for winning.”

  Her fingers slide down my sizzling labia and start to play with the weight hanging from my clit, knowing that it’s been driving me crazy. She suddenly drops it, making me groan, slaps my butt and walks away, leaving me to reflect on my appalling situation.

  The blanket only covers my back, from my shoulders to the bottom of the corset and hangs down either side of me, leaving my butt totally open and exposed to the elements.

  I don’t have long to wait though, before I hear footsteps approaching and two men chatting in Italian together. The men stop behind me and when one steps into my stall, the other moves further down the line.

  I’m hoping for some food, but warm hands settle on the upper slopes of my buttocks. The intruder soon begins to knead my abused cheeks with his fingers and thumbs and slips lower to my fleshy oasis. When his fingers start to investigate and probe along my furrow, the hanging weight begins to swing, sending sensual vibrations through my nub and into my groin.