“Nooo!!” The naked teenager twisted wildly, but could not shake loose from the strong male hands pulling her to the railing.
It had a low bar for kneeling and reminded Tami of in church where she used to go for communion during Mass. But what a sacrament she was about to receive! The row of ornamented tails on the shelf above told it all. She recognized their significance as soon as they had dragged her into this awful room. So this is what those women drawing buggies had been “wearing” behind them. The plug extensions under the brightly colored splashes of long horsehair were designed for only one thing, something she recognized from her past ordeals at Chalfont.
“Nooo!!” she wailed again as her feet were kicked apart and placed on the low bar and her tummy pushed onto the railing. Her butt cheeks tensed with the horrible feel of cold vaseline dabbed onto her sensitive sphincter. Then the gritted teeth and the inhalation of air as a finger noodled around her butthole and then pushed inside.
“Take it easy, Miss, make like you’re gonna shit,” Burt said. She didn’t know if it was his finger in there, or the other man’s, but the finger was rough and thick. Yet she knew what he was talking about, knew it too well. The advice from Brendo at Chalfont that worked every time. Better to relax and push down. The finger went in.
She thought of Mass again. “Oh God . . . p - please God . . .” she whimpered. Then she held her breath as the finger retreated.
Now it came -- the plug. She took deep breaths, drawing on her extensive experience in receiving dildo-like objects into her rectum. In, in, in it went, splitting her wider and wider. There was a moment of pain at maximum stretch, then relief but fullness as the narrow part passed through, and finally she could feel a bristly sensation around her butthole and the perverse tickling of the long thin hairs of the tail playing against the backs of her thighs.
But it was not enough. “She can take a bigger one, let’s go for the home run,” Burt said. “OWW!!” The tail was pulled out and Tami’s poor sphincter was invaded again, this time by something noticeably longer and with a wider, more painful stretching at maximum. In, in, in it went, piercing her gut, and then hands encircled her tiny waist and turned her slightly as she felt her “inner butthole” being invaded. The horrible thing was now into her colon, feeling like it was about to emerge from her tonsils.
A fiery snap on the butt from a leather strap and she was helped to her feet. And now, her elbows were pulled back and looped together.
“Nice, very nice,” Burt said, he and Hans looking at the naked girl as they turned her around. Tami sniffled back the tears. She could only imagine what a grotesque sight she presented. She felt all trussed up like an stuffed animal -- pierced to her core by this horrible thing way up inside her, feeling the tail hairs glancing across the backs of her thighs down to her calves, her elbows painfully linked behind her, her breasts as a result sticking right out at the world, her nipples erect as always, pointing out at angles left and right, like guns to shoot her enemies.
She thought of running but knew she could not escape. And was it even safe to run with this thing penetrating into her colon? Now Burt was behind her, holding the loop that bound her elbows, and pushing her forward like a gangster about to push a victim off a pier.
Once again out in the sunlight, Tami could only stare ahead blankly as she was pushed across a small dirt square and then into a low office building just off the main mansion. She looked down and saw her bare feet padding onto a white tiled floor. They went down a hallway that looked like any office hallway, and then she felt plush carpet underfoot and she was in a wood-paneled office with the smell of cigar smoke.
She looked up. The office was sparsely furnished, nothing on the walls. There was a big oak desk and stacks of papers and a big telephone with a lot of buttons. Sitting behind it was a thin, wiry man in a black three-piece suit. He had a cold-eyed expression and a scar across one cheek. To one side, curled up in a big soft chair, was a short-haired woman dressed from head to toe in black who looked at Tami with an evil grin of surprise and lust. The man nodded to Burt and Hans and then looked sternly at the naked girl standing in front of them, with a gaze that could penetrate metal.
Tami knew herself exposed and presented for inspection. She dearly wished she could cover herself. Instead, despite her exposure and shame she tried to out-stare this man. The teenager tried valiantly but could not fully hide the fear from her eyes which blinked with the wetness of dire distress.
“We don’t like girls trying to escape, especially from the delivery van,” the man said. “My name is Figvee, I run this place. Technically you were signed over to me. If you’re going to do the spunky act, save it for later.”
Tami was confused by this and tried to think quickly. Save it for later? What did that mean? “You are a bad man. You have no right to -- to tie these women up and use them like animals!” The words were out of her mouth before she knew it. Was that a right thing to say? Had she just gotten herself into trouble? Yet it was so true! She felt so bad for these women forced to be slaves and used like horses, she felt outrage right to her core, a core that contested intimately with the dildo piercing deep up into her gut as if to battle with it and push it out.
Figvee exhaled and rolled his eyes at Burt. He got out a little folder and said, “Look -- ” he looked down at it -- “Corky, I want this to stop right now. I’ll not listen to this. Save it!”
Tami, despite her nudity and bonds, thought fast. So they had her mistaken for someone else! “My name isn’t Corky. It’s Tami -- ” then after thinking a moment she decided to give her full name -- “Tami Smithers. Let me go. And please give me clothes.”
“Clothes?” Figvee got up and walked right in front of the naked girl. “Odd that your papers don’t mention it, but you do yourself credit from your past training, Corky. I don’t see anything about clothes about you. Your tan is perfect.” He walked around her, and Tami winced as she felt his hands touch her here and there to inspect her nakedness.
“You are a rare gem, a naked pony,” he said, getting back to his seat. “I must admit, I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never handled one personally. Leathers and boots is the fashion these days. Hans, have you handled naked ponies?”
“Yes, I have, not so much recently,” Hans said in his German accent.
“I’m not a -- a pony. My name’s not Corky. You’ve got me confused with someone else. And I don’t have any ‘training’!” Tami said. “Now let me go, untie me, get this -- this thing out of me, and give me clothes please!”
Figvee retorted gently. “Your tan is perfect, and from what I hear, you ran a mile and a half behind Burt’s jeep with no sign of tiring. Your rectal tone is amazing; from what I was just told, you took our biggest and deepest tail without difficulty. I can’t remember the last pony who could do that. . .Hans, how about her feet? How long has she been without shoes?”
Tami closed her eyes as one foot was drawn up behind her and turned to and fro, fingers pressing against her sole. Ugh -- she was being inspected like an animal!
“Excellent condition,” she heard Hans say. “The pads are very tick.” He turned her foot again, then pushed through the toes. “The toes are vell spread. Obviously over a lot of rough terrain, probably pulling loads. At least six months, I’d say. Longer than zat, it’s hard to tell.” He let go and Tami reclaimed her foot angrily, stamping it onto the carpet.
“There, you see?” Figvee said. “You are an excellent specimen, well trained, and you’ll get a high price. What this means is that you will be treated excellently. You are valuable merchandise.”
“High price?” Tami said in shock.
“Yes, the next auction is in four days.”
“Auction!!” Tami looked down, her eyes blinking wet again. “I can’t believe this! This is evil!” She looked up again and returned to her indictment. “You are a bad man! God will punish you someday!” Or so she hoped!
“Darling, you know the terms of reference. You know how to get out of your contract.”
“Terms of reference? Contract?” Tami was really puzzled now.
“What you signed,” Figvee said wearily. “Come on darling, cut it out. Your contract is standard, the same all the others have signed. You have nothing to complain about.”
A light bulb went on over Tami’s head, a light that illuminated a world that was in a way even more horrifying. “You mean -- all those women -- agreed to this?”
Figvee looked at Tami for a silent moment, then shrugged. “Okay, I’ll play along with this, for now, at least. . . Yes, they all agreed, in fact this is something they want very much. Enough to dedicate five years of their lives to, though one must admit, their compensation is substantial.”
“Compensation?” The only thing Tami could think of was workers’ compensation.
“Half a million dollars, which after five years invested in even conservative mutual funds, can be a pretty penny. Upon discharge you are provided with a convincing false resume, with references to people ready to answer telephone inquiries, to explain the missing five years. Unless, of course, you want to sign up for another, pun intended, hitch. The pony life can be quite addicting.”
This was almost too much for the naked teenager to assimilate so quickly. “I don’t want half a million dollars. I want to put clothes on and get out of this -- this bad place.” She looked down miserably at her nipples, sticking out at the world due to the force of the linked elbows behind her, and desperately wanted them to be covered. She didn’t belong in this place!
“Very well, then, you know how to get out. Though, of course, we will keep you an extra two weeks, excused from further duties, so that the finances can be cancelled. Not that we don’t necessarily mistrust you, but it is best to keep you from making any phone calls to move money around.” He looked at Tami, then down at her breasts and pussy, then up once more at her pretty green eyes and her distressed face. “Well, Corky?”
Tami cleared her throat and said, “I don’t want to be a -- a pony. I don’t want to be part of this contract. You can keep the money. All I want is a set of clothes and shoes.” It was phrased like a confession, like she had made to Henry Ross, though she hoped to better effect. She was relieved, actually. If these women were here voluntarily, playing this sick game, all she had to do was say she didn’t want to be here and that should be the end of it.
But the teenage girl’s words had no such effect on Figvee, who was waiting for Tami to hum “The Star Spangled Banner”, a “safeword” that was well known among B & D people and was referred to explicitly several times in the contract. Figvee rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. “If you weren’t obviously an experienced pony girl, your acting is so excellent that I’d almost be inclined to believe you. Almost, of course. Well, Corky, this is where our little charade ends. You’ve convinced me of your ability to play spunky, which will add to the high price you’ll get as an extremely well conditioned pony girl, and a naked pony to boot.”
He shifted in his chair and smiled. “Game over, O.K.? Agreed, Corky?”
Tami was so frustrated. She wanted to shake this man. What did it take to convince him? She stamped her foot tearfully. “My name is not Corky! I’m Tami Smithers! And I don’t want to be -- all bare! PLEASE give me clothes?” The only thing to do now was beg. “Please? . . .”
Figvee’s smile turned to a stern scowl and he slammed his hand onto the desk. “You are being a pain! This act does NO GOOD to me or to you!!” He motioned to the woman in the chair to the side, who had not taken her lascivious eyes off the girl’s breasts the whole time. “Helga, your specialty.”
As the black-clad lesbian walked up to her Tami knew she was up to no good. She stepped back but Burt grabbed her to hold her still. Helga smiled an evil smile at Tami, and then licked her lips at the breasts so cruelly stuck out on display. She grabbed both nipples and squeezed -- then pulled them out slowly away from the breast. Tami was determined not to give her the satisfaction of saying “Ow!”, though the urge to cry out was unbearable. Helga pulled more and more, causing fiery pain, until Tami’s poor breasts were grotesquely stretched outward.
Evidently the naked girl was too valuable a piece of merchandise to be damaged, so after a certain point Helga let go. Tami bit her lip, her eyes wet, glad she hadn’t cried out. It was a victory, though a small one, considering her dire situation. Her nipples bounced back to her breasts, burning like fire.
“Very impressive,” Figvee said as a disappointed Helga resumed her seat. Then he brought out what looked like a video game handset with a joystick.
“Ukkk!” The dildo deep inside had reached further up into her colon! Tami’s eyes opened wide and she lurched forward. Now Figvee pushed the joystick to one side.
“OWW! Ohh!” It was horrible pain on one side, somewhere in her poor abused womb. She had felt pain like this a couple of times when making love with Rod and his dick “went in the wrong way”. Tami felt the wind knocked out of her and tried to catch her breath. Her knees knocked together and she slouched forward.
“That, I think, is the pressure of the tail plug against one of your ovaries,” Figvee said. “They say it’s like a kick in the testicles, though of course no one really knows. And now --”
“Aieee!” Tami’s eyes popped open and she jumped and her back arched so that she was looking at the ceiling.
“That was a kidney. You see, Corky, I have total control. That hard object deep within you is my stern hand, or my dick if you prefer. You’ve signed away the next five years of your life. You and your eventual master will reach some kind of understanding, humane of course, we screen carefully and we don’t allow psychopaths into this life. But until you are sold and officially transferred, you are under my name and you will submit to my control. No ifs, ands or buts.”
Deep within Tami, the dildo bent back to where it was before. The naked teenager sobbed and dropped to her knees. Tears fell to the carpet. “P - please . . . please . . .” In a pitiful choking voice she said, “I’m not Corky . . . There’s been a mistake . . . please give me clothes . . . clothes . . . please . . .” Unable to cover her face with her hands, the tears ran past her nose and onto her chin, from where they dripped to the carpet.
Figvee said, “If you want to do this mistaken identity act, if that what makes this life important to you, then very well. You’ll just be guaranteed a rough time, some ponies like it that way. And I will give you one concession. If you don’t like the name you chose, I’ll give you another. How about, ‘Naked’? It certainly fits.” He motioned to Hans and Burt. “Take Naked away. Throw out the Corky nameplate, the new one will say ‘Naked’. And of course I don’t want a scrap of clothes on her, no shoes either. Assign her the most arduous tasks. Start with the weighted buggy and then bailing hay. Bye, Naked.”
“Noooooo!” The naked teenager’s tearful pleas went for nought as she was picked up and pushed out of the office and down the hallway, out to the dirt square where a buggy was waiting.