by Sean O'Kane
When she finally got to it the man seated at the desk looked at her passport once she had put her forefinger on the light pad, flicked through its pages, held it under some kind of lamp then gave it to his companion and asked her to wait over by an office door.
“Why?” Sophie quavered, watching the man disappear with her precious passport. “Is…is there something wrong?”
“Ma’am, just wait there for a moment please,” the first man said and beckoned the next person in the queue. Sophie, her stomach churning with terror had to go and wait. Her eyes felt gritty as they always did after a long flight and she longed to get some clean clothes next to her skin. But if she could just get over this hurdle she could contact her lawyer in Switzerland and get herself a job and everything would be hunky dory. Then she could contact Martha.
The office door opened and a man looked out. Her heart sank as she took in the police uniform and the sheriff’s star on his broad chest.
“Mizz Stafford?” he drawled, putting an emphasis on the ‘Stafford’ that made Sophie aware that she was in deep trouble. With her knees trembling she followed him into the office and took the seat he offered in front of the desk. He sat behind it and looked at her passport lying there, the only thing on the desk.
He let the silence extend until Sophie’s nerves were screaming and then he sat back, clasping his hands across his belly.
“Now Mizz Stafford, or whatever your name really is, there’s some things you need to know.” He sat forwards, making her jump and took up the booklet. “Nine times outta ten you’d have got clean through with this. But we got a little arrangement with a local businessman and when we see a pretty girl coming through we look extra hard. The biometrics match okay but I’m afraid there’s some differences in the watermarking that mean this is a forgery. A good one, but a forgery. It probably would have fooled anyone not trying to look real hard, but because of our arrangement, we did look real hard.”
Sophie stared down at the desktop, too horrified to feel anything except numbness. Her life seemed suddenly to have turned into a series of nightmares from having been one long erotic dream.
“Now trying to enter the country on a forged passport is pretty serious stuff – and our jails are a bit tougher than yours I reckon. But like I say we got an arrangement with a guy who might be able to offer you an alternative. Come with me.”
He stood up and came round the desk, then made her put her hands in front of her and cuffed them with a plastic tie. Then he led her out of the back door of the office, down some steps and out into the heat of the day, before he bundled her into the back of a patrol car. Dully, Sophie watched the gleaming towers and wide streets flash by as the sheriff carved his way arrogantly through the traffic and out into the country. They sped for miles along wide roads and then along dusty side roads, through small towns and past endless, huge pastures with herds of cattle quietly grazing. Neat white picket fences sometimes lined the roads and sometimes tall trees. Then finally they came to a gate in a high fence and written in wrought iron letters on the arch above the gates was the legend; ‘The Pretty Pony Ranch’. On either side of the lettering was an image of a rearing pony.
The sheriff chuckled as they drove in. “Mister Floyd, he’s got a real sense of humour on him!” he said as the car swept along a tree shaded drive for what seemed like miles before it came to an enormous, rambling and low ranch house.
The sheriff got out and helped Sophie out as well, then holding her tightly by her right arm he led her into the house. The vast hall was decorated most strikingly with the heads of various animals; stags, bison, boar, lion… whoever had been doing the shooting had been well travelled. But Sophie didn’t have much time for looking around as she was hustled into a huge office and behind an ornate desk sat a tall man with white hair and a skin tanned so deeply it looked like leather. The sheriff halted her halfway across the floor and stood behind her, holding her arms tightly by her sides.
“Well, well,” the man said, standing up and revealing himself to be whiplash thin. “That is the prettiest thing to have fallen into our net in a long, long time, Henry!”
Behind her she heard the sheriff laugh.
“Ain’t that the truth! And she’s a limey as well! They’ll be queuing up to drive her.”
The white haired man had come close and was examining Sophie with complete assurance, his eyes roaming over her body with blatant appreciation. She realised that whatever the deal was that was going to be put before her, it was going to involve access to her body.
“I’m Wilbur Beckington-Floyd, young lady,” the man said when he had finished examining her. “Come and sit down and I’ll tell you a bit more about what I propose.”
Once she was seated, the sheriff hovered close behind her but Floyd relaxed behind the desk.
“Welcome to the Pretty Pony, Miss Stafford, or whatever your real name is, either way I don’t care. Let me come straight to the point; are you acquainted with Pony Racing like they do it in the arenas?”
“I’ve seen it,” Sophie said carefully. “And I think it’s vile and degrading.”
Floyd chuckled softly. “I dare say you do. But consider your position and hear my deal. I pay Henry there and his men good money to keep an eye out for young ladies coming into the country with something to hide, and you’d be amazed how many of you there are! Sometimes they’re smuggling, sometimes they’re on the run from someone or something. Now, at the Pretty Pony I race and run ponygirls, just like the arenas do and I have a lot of paying customers, believe me.”
“Oh I can imagine!” Sophie put in suddenly having an inkling of where this was going.
“When Henry and his men find someone like you, they bring them here to me and I offer them a two year deal,” Floyd went on unperturbed. “For two years they serve me as ponies and accept my discipline and serve my customers. At the end of that time they can go free if they want. The record will show they entered the country with no problem and they will have a share of the money they earn. I save the state the expense of locking them up, my customers are happy and everyone wins!”
“The girls?”
“Yep, them too. After two years folk might have stopped looking for them, if they want to be set free that is. Quite a few don’t.”
Sophie gaped at him. The answer to her sarcastic question had changed everything. Two years of complete anonymity could be a godsend, maybe everyone would give up and go away, then she could emerge from this weird place – if he could be trusted – and resume a real life. Maybe she could find Martha and explain and they could pick up where they left off. Of course the idea of being harnessed and treated as a beast of burden was hateful and wicked. But maybe just now, beggars couldn’t be choosers – and they had her bang to rights about the passport…
As if seeing her attitude change, Floyd broke in, “There is one thing you need to be aware of before you sign my contract though.”
“And that is?” she asked.
“You know the arenas use these chips to keep the girls happy and obedient?”
Sophie did and it had always seemed to her the worst thing that the arenas did.
“Well I don’t have no truck with that. My ponies obey me because they know the rules and they find out the hard way what happens if they break them. Same as any animal does. I train my ponies real good. And I don’t need no gizmo to make them docile.”
Sophie realised that she was being told that she would be beaten if she didn’t obey this madman’s rules. But at least she wouldn’t be in prison. And it was only for two years. Then the hunt for Sophie Suarez would have died down – and he didn’t seem to care who she really was…
“I’ll sign,” she said simply.
Floyd rang a bell and several men entered as the sheriff unfastened her wrists. They were all big men and they all smiled at her in open anticipation. It looked as though there was a lot of sex on the menu and it was just as well Martha had given her a healthy appetite for it.
Floy
d passed across a simple document that summarised all he had said and confirmed that in two years she could go free if she chose. She signed it and returned it then looked around at the men, all of whom were sporting interesting bulges in their trousers.
“Well,” she said, standing up and becoming aware of her clipped English vowels falling into the silence in the office. “I hope you gentlemen have got long, hot… spurs. This pony needs to be ridden!”
The feeling of not being Sophie Suarez, of not being anyone at all for the next two years was intoxicating and Sophie was beginning to think she might enjoy it.
Floyd smiled. “That’s a pretty speech, but it’ll be the last you make for a long time. Take her away and get her started, boys.”
Getting her started turned out to consist of fucking her until her brain rattled. She had never experienced anything like it. They took her downstairs to a small cell with white painted walls and a bed and not much more. She was told to strip and when she did, so did the men who crowded into the small room. She backed up until the backs of her legs connected with the frame of the small bed and she had no choice but to stop and examine the crowd who wanted her. They were a well-muscled and well hung group, she had to admit and the cocks were visibly beginning to throb towards erection. It was a sight that Sophie had never imagined seeing – let alone knowing that every single one of them was heading her way. But she stood up squarely, parted her legs and put her hands on her hips.
“Now she’s gonna get some good American cock up her hoity toity little English pussy,” one of the men said.
“I heard they like it up their asses in England,” another said.
“Doesn’t matter a damn where she likes it. She’s gonna get it everywhere a girl can take it,” the man at the front of the group said, advancing on her. Sophie let her eyes meet his and she thought of Martha; ‘we’ll fuck anything human!’ and she laughed as she reached out and drew him to her.
What really hurt was her arse. It had never been used before except by Martha’s finger on occasions, but the men at the ranch used it time and again. They used plenty of lube but the next day it stung so much she could hardly walk, but fortunately she didn’t need to. They gave her two days to recover and she needed every minute of them. She doubted she could have taken it if it hadn’t been for the weeks with Martha breaking down her inhibitions. She had only ever sucked Tom’s cock but in that epic gangbang that signified her arrival at the Pretty Pony, she lost count of the times she had swallowed a man’s sperm. To be ordered to her knees for fellation had eventually come as a blessed relief from the endless stream of men who had wanted to bugger her and slap her bottom as they did so; hard. There had been a period when it had been pleasurable, she thought it was about half way through, when her rectum had loosened up but before it had got sore. The man who had taken her first of all had seemed to be in charge and it had been he who had occasionally examined her in between bouts of buggery and decided she could take more. Every now and then there would be a welcome pause and she would feel his hard hands ease her buttocks apart as he peered at her most private place. Then sentence would be pronounced and she would have to feel her delicate tissues being prised apart all over again. But she would be ever grateful to him for being the one who had at last decreed that there would be no more buggery; mouth and vagina only from then on. Tears of gratitude had trickled down her cheeks, running around the crusted sperm, as she had sucked long and hard at cock after cock while others entered her cunt from behind.
Fairly early on she had ceased to feel human. She had lost her personality as she sank beneath the continued orgasms that overwhelmed her, she became just what they wanted her to be; a body. They had squashed her between them, made her into a living sandwich with one man in her vagina and another in her backside, and the two cocks had fought it out inside her until she felt she was losing her mind. She had knelt astride one cock and taken another in her mouth. And finally they had stopped coming inside her and came all over her instead. Cocks would be withdrawn from her mouth just as they spurted and would be wiped over her eyes and in her hair or pointed down at her breasts. Vaguely she was conscious of wiping her hands over her body, smearing herself with their essence, revelling in her debasement and hungry for the next orgasm.
Eventually she had lain on her front with her head hanging over the end of the bed, flopping down as her backside was hauled up to make her cunt available. She could hardly register any more orgasms and only groaned as she came. Sometimes a hand would grip her sticky, sodden hair and lift her face to cram a cock into it again and she would open her throat as much as she could, so exhausted that without fully realising it she was deep throating them. Her neck muscles would no longer let her control her movements up and down so she relied on the hand in her hair to control the face fucking.
And then, quite suddenly it seemed, they were gone. She lay on the narrow bed, the sound of her breathing loud in her ears, too used up to move. But slowly she became aware of someone standing over her.
“Welcome to the Pretty Pony,” the voice of Wilbur Floyd said.
Sophie felt a sudden urge to defy expectations. She knew what she must look like with sperm oozing from between her wide spread thighs and from her anus, her bottom smacked red, her hair thick with sperm and her arms flung out loosely to hang over the sides of the bed. She became aware of a thick string of mixed spunk and saliva hanging from her lips to the floor. She knew she looked the very image of totally fucked womankind. But she didn’t feel beaten down, she felt pride. She had taken all that they could throw at her and still she could…she could what?
She tried moving her arms and was surprised they obeyed her but managed to get her hands under her and turn over, wiping her mouth as she did so. Her legs were splayed wide apart, one on the bed and one hanging off it. Slowly she swung the one on the bed off it and then pushed herself up to a sitting position. Waiting until her head stopped spinning she began to get to her feet. She took two or three staggering steps until she found her balance but then she could face Floyd. He was watching her carefully.
“You might talk posh but you’re a tough bitch alright, whatever your name is.”
Then he turned and walked out and she smiled after him; they had ridden her but they hadn’t broken her in, not by a long way.
The man who had been the first to take her and who she was to learn was called Ennis, entered as Floyd left.
“You might want a shower, girl,” he said and indicated that she could leave the cell. “Usually we have to carry ‘em out after the welcoming ceremony. Like the boss said, you’re a tough bitch.”
He walked behind her as she limped along the corridor, steadying herself with one hand against the wall from time to time until they came to a wet room.
He lounged against the door frame as she showered and rinsed herself thoroughly, spreading her legs shamelessly to soap every nook and cranny, but of course what was there to be ashamed about? She had nothing now that every man in the place hadn’t seen, touched, explored and fucked.
“That’s right, get it all good and clean,” Ennis told her.
“Ready for next time?” she asked, tousling her thick hair under the jets to try and clean it.
“No talking. I’ll punish you for that soon as you’re finished here,” he told her quite calmly. Sophie glared at him but subsided, there was no point in provoking him, it was clearly what he wanted and clearly the Pretty Pony wanted her to learn another lesson.
When she had towelled off, dried her hair and brushed it as best she could with the simple brush provided she felt well enough to walk without limping although her backside still stung and burned ferociously. She followed Ennis further along the corridor until they emerged into daylight.
They were in a courtyard and Sophie found out that she was far from being the only naked girl in those parts. On three sides the yard was surrounded by low buildings that had a stable door every few feet and over the closed lower half of the doors the torso of a n
aked girl was visible with, as far as Sophie could tell, her hands clipped together behind her back. And just over to her right there was a girl in full harness tethered to the wall by her reins. Sophie had seen pictures and footage on the net but the full ‘in your face’ reality of it stopped her in her tracks. The girl’s head was encased in a web of leather straps and she had a bit in her mouth and even blinkers at her cheeks. Her hands were clipped together behind her just above her buttocks which were bisected by a thin leather strap that ran between her legs and joined a narrow belt at her waist. Her feet were encased in boots that had wedge heels and enhanced her height and emphasised the shapeliness of her legs. Her breasts had been left quite naked except for the nipples which were covered by black leather cones that had long leather tassels hanging from them.
Sophie took in all the details only slowly, her brain screaming at her that it was obscene and wicked but there was a part of her that thought the girl looked absolutely beautiful.
Ennis went over to the pony and beckoned to Sophie.
“This is Dancer. She’s been with us three years now,” he told her, slapping the ponygirl’s flank. “Decided to stay on when her time was up.” He stroked the girl’s breast and she nuzzled her head against his shoulder. Ennis looked over at Sophie with a grin. “Take a good look, girl. This is your future.”
Sophie couldn’t have spoken even if it had been permitted; so many emotions were at war inside her. Horror vied with sexual excitement as she watched Ennis squeeze her breasts and pet the ponygirl with complete casual confidence. Then envy kicked in as his other hand slid down her belly and stroked the strap that led up from between her labia and she watched his finger press against it just where her clitoris was. The pony gave a soft snort of pleasure and nuzzled him again. Sophie suddenly found she was pressing her own thighs together and blushed furiously.
Two men approached just then and the other side of the ponygirl’s life was suddenly brought back into sharp focus.
“Get her strung up for thirty,” Ennis told them, inclining his head towards Sophie and before she could even think of making any vocal protest she was grabbed by the arms and marched along the yard until they came to a projecting beam of wood about ten feet up the wall. From it hung a chain that terminated in two cuffs hanging from karabiners clipped to its links. The men raised her arms and buckled her wrists into the leather. Then to compensate for her height, they unwound the chain from the hook it was anchored to after it had run through the pulley in the beam and shortened it so that she was pulled onto tip toes.