The Couriers

by Jurgen von Stuka

“At once,” Franz said, motioning to the grooms.

  All of the standing by grooms trotted off, motioned to another similarly clad girl standing nearby and they jointly entered stall number six and led out the somewhat jumpy young blond pony, positioning her in the aisle and hooking her bridle to the rings mounted on each side of the aisle. The pony’s rear legs were attached to wall chains and pulled wide. Then the head was strained back with a chain that ran from the top of the bridle to a sturdy ring fixed to the harness where it held the braided tail which was affixed to a stout butt plug well up inside the pony’s ass. The pony jerked its head a few inches forward and then, reacting to the tension on its ass plug, set its head back enough to slacken the chain. It was an unpleasant holding position, but effective for such an inspection while it was carried out.

  “This is Elizabeth-Ann,” said Werner, looking quickly at the pocket-sized mobile computer handed to him by one of the attending grooms.

  At the mention of her name, the pony started, flinging its long, unbraided hair and mane about, trying desperately to free herself from the multiple bonds holding her to the walls and floor of the stable. Its steel shod feet clanged on the stone floor, slipping a bit and setting off the occasional spark. A continuous muffled whine and gurgle come from the well plugged and bitted mouth and this was followed by a higher-pitched scream as the groom holding her reins tugged smartly back, driving the spiked spoon of the internal bit into the pony’s open mouth.

  Showing no fear of this barely controlled human pony, both of the shoppers walked casually around her, poking here and there, examining the booted feet, pulling the cheeks apart and inspecting the teeth and gums, especially the narrow space between the upper and lower teeth where two or three molars had been removed to accommodate the cruel bit.

  “Has she been bred?” the woman asked, leaning over and looking at the pony’s hairless crotch, then reaching cautiously between the pony’s spread and quaking thighs and inserting her gloved fingers deep into its pink-fleshed pussy. The pony started again and then shuddered a bit, tugged on her cross-tied chains and tried unsuccessfully to close its rear legs. Meanwhile, the woman seized a leather-bound, hanging breast and squeezed the exposed, hard nipple, watching the pony carefully as she performed this dual abuse.

  “Not yet. Not here,” said Werner. “But, as you can tell, she is no virgin.”

  “Don’t lie to me,” the woman said, nearly snarling. “Does she get fucked regularly here?” she pressed, still with her hands busy, one inside the now liquid pussy and the other seemingly attached to the tormented nipple.

  “No. That is not how we work,” said Werner insisted. “We don’t want pregnant stock and have no facilities for foals. On occasion, as reward for good work, she may be stimulated by a groom or mechanically with one of the machines. Otherwise, no nooky for her. Would you care to see how that is done? We have a pony currently on the exercise unit. It’s worthwhile to observe if you wish.”

  “Yes. I’d like to see one on the fucking machines. There have been so many new ones on the market that I simply cannot keep track of them all. Ours are always in use. Let’s see what you have.”

  “At once,” Franz shouted and led off to the right, opening a locked door and ushering his customers through. They stepped into what might have at first looked like a conventional machine room in any spa or hotel. Treadmills, bicycles, weights of every size and shape filled the area. Franz led them to another door and they entered an oddly padded room with three chromed mechanical devices lined up in a row. Only one machine was occupied.

  “This is Chloe,” Franz said. “The pony, not the machine. We call the machine Dieter. For reasons that may be obvious as Dieter is also a stallion in another barn and he has a very long dick.”

  “How nice,” the woman said, inspecting the sweating young woman bound to the front of the machine with arms behind her, neck in a leather cushioned stock and her legs spread wide apart. Dieter was quietly reaming the pony’s pussy with a metronome-like precision that caused Chloe to grunt into her gag with the same rhythm.

  Padded cuffs held Chloe’s ankles, knees, elbows and wrists totally immobilized while the stocks on her neck and the chain fastened to her short braid forced her to stare straight ahead. Her eyes streamed tears and her mouth dripped saliva constantly. Dieter pumped consistently.

  Everyone on the room stood still, fascinated by the spectacle.

  The customers broke the silence and walked cautiously around the impaled pony girl.

  “This is all it will do?” the woman asked acidly. “What a waste.”

  “Dieter can do anything you can think of,” Franz responded, moving to the control panel directly below the dripping chin of the pony being pumped. “For example, he can pull nearly all the way out and then slide slowly back inside. He has a good supply of various fluids that he can eject quickly or at any speed. He can fill that plumbed cavity until it oozes the fluids, hot or cold.”

  “Is that all? The man asked. “Ours does that.”

  “You may not have noticed, but at this time, Dieter is doing double-fuck.”

  “Really?” asked the man as he stepped closed and inspected the hammering piston reciprocating in and out of Chloe’s frothy crotch. “Oh, yes, I can see both cocks more clearly now. The one up her ass appears only in the part of the cycle when Dieter pulls out a bit. Clever. I wonder if ours can do that.”

  “Of course it can, Karl,” the woman hissed. “I know. I’ve used it when you haven’t been up to the deed.”

  “Both?” Karl asked, amazed at his wife’s candor in front of the stable master.

  “Yes. Both. I’m sure this little filly is enjoying it immensely, aren’t you, cunt?”

  The pony gurgled, nodded its head and closed its eyes. Unnoticed, Franz touched the controls and the pony suddenly jerked and its eyes opened wide. A deed groan emerged from behind the bit gag, followed by what had to be muted screams.

  “What did you do?” Karl asked, watching Chloe closely.

  “The ‘expanders,’” Franz replied.

  “How nice,” said the woman as she studied the reaction on the pony’s distorted face. “Put some nose hooks on her,” she said. “I want to see her face more clearly.”

  “Nose hooks? Ah, yes, of course,” responded Franz, reaching for a small tangled bundle of cord and metal in his interior pocket. “I always carry a pair of theses.” He attached the double hooks into Chloe’s quivering nostrils and pulled the cord back over the top of her already tensioned head, fastening the cord to the metal frame of the head stock. Chloe’s nose was pulled up and back, giving her the look of a piglet and allowing the accumulated snot and sweat to run more copiously from nose and gagged mouth.

  “It’s such a pity,” the woman said, sweating noticeably as she studied the jerking pony. “I wish I could try that...” she said almost without thinking.

  “It can be done,” said Franz, who was used to his customers seeking pleasure in this barn while they shopped. “Lisle and Greta can prepare you. And you, sir, do you wish to stay or relax a bit in the lounge while your wife gets set up here along side Chloe?”

  “I’ll go to the lounge,” Karl said. “I’ve seen this before,” he said as he turned and started to leave the room. “And this,” he added, putting a 500 Euro note into Franz’ breast pocket and stuffing it down so that it wasn’t visible. “It's for you and your grooms to make sure she gets the full treatment. I’ll complete the shopping by video in the lounge. You keep Hillie here for a month or two and send me the bills, okay?”

  “Of course, sir,” Franz said with a barely audible clicking of his heels. “Anything special?”

  “Ja. Fuck her brains out and ring her. Seven I think will do it.”

  “Seven rings, Indeed, Sir. Light or heavy?”

  “Use the heavy ones and set them deep so we can hang her up now and then.”

  “It shall be done, Sir. For accuracy, I’ll list the locations: one each in nose and tongue. A pair in ea
rs and tits and one centrally mounted in her cunt. Correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “Ah, and Franz, add two more on her labia. What the Hell. A bit more metal in the crotch won’t make any difference and the one in the clit will be oval, not round, for obvious reasons.”

  “Yes Sir. Consider it done,” said Franz, mentally tabulating the revenue this little endeavor would generate.

  Karl left the exercise room, noting that two grooms were escorting Hillie through a locked door and down the dark hallway from the still hammering fucking machine.

  “I think I’ll take a look at that pony you had in the cross ties. I think she’s suited to our daughter’s needs and with Hillie being ‘tied up’ for a month or so, the girl will need some entertainment. Let’s go back and visit that one.”

  “Of course, Sir. She’s still there,” Franz said.

  Upon reaching the pony, who was still in the cross ties and looking exhausted from holding the strained position, Karl removed his jacket, handed it to an ever-present groom, rolled up his sleeves and put two fingers into the pony’s still damp cunt. He then inserted his thumb into her asshole, making the girl jump and stamp her steel shod feet on the stone floor.

  “Humm,” Karl said to himself as the grooms stood by and Franz was making notes on his handheld. “Nice and tight. I think she’ll do. My daughter is handy with a strap-on and will ream this snatch out until she begs for it daily.”

  “Ah, yes. How charming,” said Franz.

  Karl only smiled, removing both hands and reaching out to take the clean towel held for him by yet another groom.

  “Where did this one come from?” he asked, gesturing towards the pony and heading further down the line of stalls, looking into each and appearing slightly bored.

  “She came to us from a family in Austria that needed cash quickly. She is nineteen and anxious to learn. We have had no trouble with her and, I might add, the price reflects these things. She is one of the best I have to offer at this time.”

  “Is the show ring available?” Karl asked. “How much?” he added casually, still looking bored.

  “Of course, the rings are always ready,” Werner said, nodding to a nearby groom who trotted off quickly. Holding up a hand for the man, as if to say: “in a moment, I’ll answer your question,” he motioned to the other two grooms to take the pony out through a set of sliding wooden doors into the private, enclosed indoor ring. Then, he turned to Karl and said: “Five hundred, forty-five. It will be but a moment until they get her into the ring. Do you wish to be inside the ring or observe from a more comfortable seat on the sidelines?”

  “I’ll watch from the side, thank you,” said the man, hearing the price and showing no visible reaction.

  Two hours later, pony number six, Elizabeth Ann, now known as Pony Liz, was loaded into the couple’s luxuriously equipped Mercedes horse van and sent to her new home. Her traveling arrangement was more onerous than the holding stall where she had spent the last few days. Her head was totally enclosed in a leather hood, blocking sound and light and chained from multiple points to the sides and top of the van’s enclosure. She was positioned on her knees, with her arms forward and outstretched, chained and held by double spreader bars at wrist and elbow, with similar spreaders on her ankles and above her knees. Side chains held waist, arms and legs centered in the standing stall. A single heavy, adjustable strap descended from the top of the compartment to a ring on the back of her corset at the constricted waist. The leather, funnel-like protective containers on her breasts were chained to either sidewall and the protruding, ringed nipples bound to the floor. Once in position and fully restrained, a heavy metal plate in a frame was brought up behind her and bolted into place so as to prevent any backward movement, even if it were possible in the chain web she now wore.

  “This one little addition has been found to be most effective to keeping traveling fillies and mares quiet and subdued,” Werner said as the grooms finished securing the plate and stepped back to allow Werner to reach through an access panel with a sliding steel door in the rear of the frame and insert two dripping phalluses into the pony’s cunt and ass. He did this in a quick motion and the pony, trying to compensate for the intrusions, lunged slightly forward, but was held in place by the harness and chains. Werner rammed the double dicks home, set the back end of each on the frame’s mounting points and made a few adjustments, one of which was a release of an internal spring on each faux cock, forcing it deeper into the pony’s apertures and creating a sort of resilient hydraulic piston between the pony’s crotch and the frame. If she pushed back an inch or so, the spring resisted and drove its prong back into the dark and juicy cave of ass or cunt. When the pony reacted to this and moved forward, the spring compensated and continued to hold the thick, serrated things in their assigned holes.

  “Pretty clever, isn’t it,” said Werner proudly. “We perfected and modified the design several times until it came out like this. A perfect, double-fucked way to travel, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed it is,” said Karl, the new owner, wondering exactly what it might feel like to be so strenuously bound and sexually impaled. He realized that his cock was, as usual, fully excitedly, reacting to this exhibit of torment and he turned away, thinking that the wonderment was probably evident on his normally deadpan facial expression.

  “Thank-you, Sir,” Werner said, bowing a bit too low and sniffing the air as a dog might, certain that if he played this right, he’d have the wife for much longer than a month and would be able to service her at his convenience, probably with Karl’s full approval. Karl got into his Mercedes and followed the van down the long curving driveway.

  Inside the van, Pony Liz was already getting the intended affects of the double drilling and the stabilizing restraint. By the time she was released, she would have had more orgasms than she thought possible. Of course, she was wrong. Orgasmic occurrences were a relative thing in the pony girl realm and soon, very soon, she’d learn that an entire evening or twenty-four hour day could result in more exhausting excitement than seemed physically or mentally possible.

  Werner was happy. His day’s work was successful. The final agreed price for the Elizabeth pony was three hundred and twenty-five thousand Euros, which was, by the way, twenty-five thousand more than the price he had hoped to get for this upstart, albeit quite lovely, untrained and recalcitrant human mare. In his pocket, next to the five hundred Euro note, Werner had a small piece of paper with a telephone number and the words: “Wife for sale. Interested?”

  By the next evening, Pony Liz was settled into the metal framework of her new containment structure. Her new home was essentially a normal stall in a large stone barn, but she was restrained in a manner quite different than anything she had previously been subjected to. The interior of the stall contained a sturdy galvanized steel frame that was similar to the inside of the van, but just as strict and equally uncomfortable. Her arms were cuffed in heavier chains than before and pulled back on either side where they were bolted to the vertical beams of the frame. Her neck was collared in a metal stock-like device mounted in the front wall of the stall. Her head protruded out into the aisle and was enclosed in a steel brank-like structure that held it immovably in the ideal position for forced watering and feeding. The mouth-filling gag and bit kept her jaws fixed wide apart and accommodated the rubber and plastic feeder nozzle. The wrist cuffs and chains set up a tension between her immovable head and neck and the sides of the stall frame. Although she could, with some difficulty shift her weight on her knees, there was little other movement available to Liz. She wore a leather harness that encompassed her small waist and supported a leather and metal strap that went between her legs and held new, different and larger dildoes in both her ass and cunt. These dual intruders provided additional functions, including rectal flushing and cleansing enemas, vaginal spritzing, and simple internal catheters for liquid and solids evacuation.

  But the most horrifying part of the new confinement was th
e vacuum milker caps strapped over each nipple, which sucked relentlessly for an hour, every four hours, day and night, shutting down only when she was allowed to sleep. The constant vacuum pressure from these milkers, in combination with the double dicks deep inside her lower body, provided, as intended, nearly endless sexual stimulation beyond Liz’ mental capacity. Her sturdy physique and previous training helped to sustain her from the endless sucking and fucking, but in her mind, she continued to wrestle with the fundamental questions of why her parents sold her to Werner and why Werner had turned her into a human ponygirl and why her new owners were being so unbelievably cruel to her. The first few days and nights in the stall were beyond horror for this young woman who had grown up in a small Austrian town, gone to school and had a normal life without any real contact with the more twisted sides of society. As soon as she turned eighteen, her father began her testing, as he called it, showing her films and videos of erotic activities that initially were beyond her comprehension. Shown lengthy movies of women and men being kept in bondage and forced to perform sex acts, Liz soon discovered that these things excited her as well. Her father then arranged for her to be fitted, somewhat against her will, with a steel chastity belt so that she couldn’t play with herself or have any sexual contact with anyone else. She was kept at home, in the barn in the summer and in the cellar in the winter. Meanwhile, her parents photographed and videotaped her in every possible attire and position, telling her that this would eventually provide a fortune for them and a new life for her.

  Her diet at home was designed to give her good health, strength and stamina without any body fat. Her diet now, as a milked pony, was somewhat different. The semi-liquid concoction that oozed out of the feeder tube in her mouth tasted okay and she eagerly swallowed it, unaware that it was enhanced with chemicals to encourage and assist in improved lactation. The devices that were attached to her breasts worked energetically to remove any fluids that were produced. A worker in the barn collected the extracted substance and analyzed it daily.