This story arc takes place in an alternative reality where legal slavery exists in the United States as depicted in the stories by Joe Doe, Carl Bradford, Gentlemanmariner and a number of others. Joe graciously allowed me to use the Big D slave market for this story so long as I avoided killing or maiming any of his characters which I somehow managed to avoid along with not burning down the place. I also want to thank Carl for editing much of my work, which greatly improved the final product while also allowing me to incorporate some of his characters and institutions in my stories. All persons enslaved, involved in slavery operations, or described in explicit sex scenes are aged 18 years or older. Feedback in the form of comments are greatly appreciated.
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The jailor’s hand on my left butt cheek kept me propelled in the right direction down the hallway towards the courtroom where my case would be heard in the Frank Crowley Courts building. I had a serious problem. I was extremely aroused when I was removed from my cell. My jailor smelling my slave heat just grinned and shook his head as he gagged me and cuffed my hands behind my back. Once again he took every opportunity to goose my wet pussy with his finger as he lubed his wet digit, then bringing it back to my rosebud and burrowing in until the tip was firmly lodged in my ass. This spiked my arousal as my body was enjoying this attention while my mind protested. By the time we arrived at the courtroom my vagina was throbbing out of control as I felt my pussy lips becoming engorged and peeling open displaying my arousal for all to see as I entered the courtroom.
To say I was nervous was an understatement. I would be appearing in court dressed as a prisoner wearing only an inmate collar with my hands cuffed behind my back. My fate would be determined this morning by some judge. Due to my current condition the judge would only see me as a naked sexually aroused slave and not Daphne Calloway, college graduate, accountant and future CPA. I believed in Claire Kincaid, my attorney, but with each step bringing me closer to the courtroom I felt my confidence waning. I found Claire waiting for me at one counsel table and Calum and Ms. Price were sitting at the other. Could they see how wet my kitty was? Soon I was standing next to Claire blushing in embarrassment, spying my father in the audience as the deputy removed my gag. My father was accompanied by Rhonda, my step-mother, and Glen Bedford, a good friend who was also Calum’s father.
Claire leaned over whispering in my ear, “Don’t worry about your slave heat. Remember, I do the talking and you follow instructions without any hesitation. Got it?” I nodded my understanding.
The bailiff brought the courtroom to order announcing, “All rise, Department 12 of the Dallas County Court, state of Texas, is in session, the Honorable Judge Vivian Kensington presiding, you may be seated.” Claire and I remained standing while everyone else took their seats.
Holy shit, my judge was a woman. Judge Kensington was a tall lady with shorter graying hair in her late forties. I would also characterize her as a big strong woman that could have played basketball or volleyball in college. She carried herself with an air of authority of a person accustomed to being obeyed. She leered down at me like a bull dyke, causing my pussy to throb. Could I even become any more stimulated? It felt like she was undressing me with her eyes even though I wasn’t wearing any clothes, and her eyes kept my pussy a soggy mess. I squeezed my thighs together smearing my arousal on them trying not to drip in court. Now that would be embarrassing.
The judge called my case and the attorneys made their appearances. Court was going pretty much as Claire predicted while she outlined the terms of the civil compromise for the judge. The worst part for me was when she described my sexual exploits from the day before that justified the high four-year reserve price. I took a quick peek over at Daddy and he just looked upset and defeated. Thankfully Glen Bedford was there with him, keeping him under control. That’s what friends are for after all. The judge was commenting that everything appeared in order when representatives from the DA’s office arrived to oppose the civil compromise.
“Your honor, Warner Huntington, for the people. I am accompanied by an intern.”
I heard a familiar voice. “Elle Woods, certified legal intern under the supervision of Mr. Huntington.”
That was when things started going downhill fast. Elle Woods was my predecessor as president of my sorority, graduating a year ahead of me. She bore an uncanny resemblance to the actress Reese Witherspoon, dressing perfectly while displaying all of her assets like the tramp that she was. We were frenemies in the house, especially when I beat her handpicked successor for president. She was a mean, spiteful girl. When one of my pledge sisters was enslaved for a family debt, Elle and a few of her friends went to see her sale, taunting her while she was on display prior to the auction. My current situation was one that Elle was going to enjoy. Elle had an air of arrogance sneering at me as she continued to address the court.
“These attorneys are perpetuating a fraud upon the court in their moving papers. There is no way …”
The judge cut her off. “Stop right there. Mr. Huntington, are the People contending that the factual description for the alleged crimes understates or misleads this court?”
“No your honor. We do not have all of the police reports yet. From my understanding of what took place it is an accurate statement. Just to be clear, I am asking the court to not rule until my office has completed its investigation. The issue Ms. Woods raised concerns the facts supporting the pleasure slut designation that was used to justify the reserve price and the proposed term of indenture. Those are in dispute.”
“What is the basis for challenging the facts alleged in the motion?”
Elle could not contain herself any longer. “I know Daphne Calloway from my sorority in college, she is a frigid prude. There is no way she performed any of the sex acts described in the motion, let alone climaxed during them. I mean, everyone in the sorority knows this about her.”
The clearly irritated Judge Kensington glared down at Elle with a predatory look on her face while initiating an impromptu evidentiary hearing. My jailor confirmed that I climaxed when he came in my mouth swallowing most of his cum. He also confirmed my orgasms while strung up in the interview room and while Calum ass fucked me describing in great detail what he observed to the snickers of the courtroom audience. Next the judge had him remove my handcuffs and put me in the present position facing her, after which she ordered me to turn around in a circle. This gave her a good look at me before commenting.
“By the look of her it is clear that she has all of the natural attributes necessary for a dressage ponygirl. Including her clearly wet slave cunt. Ms. Woods, do you know the difference between natural vaginal lubrication and an artificial lubricant? I mean how it feels, smells and tastes? Can you tell when a woman appears sexually aroused?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“Good, I want you to penetrate Ms. Calloway’s vagina with two or more fingers to stimulate her and tell me if she is sexually aroused. You can use your free hand to massage her breasts or thighs as part of this test.”
Elle had a confused look on her face. “Your honor, you want me to do what?”
Judge Kensington rolled her eyes with an exasperated look. “How should I put it, I want you to finger bang, finger fuck, do some two-finger beaver boxing or snatch mining on Ms. Calloway to check her slave heat. With your other hand play with her tits. Do you understand what I want to see?”
Elle blushed a nice color of pink. “Yes, your honor.”
“Good. Say about sixty seconds, the bailiff will time you and I want quiet in this courtroom so that I can properly monitor this test.”
What the fuck! Why is the judge doing this in an open courtroom? Especially having Elle do this to me in front of my father? This cannot be happening. Looking towards my father I saw him exiting the courtroom leaving behind Mr. Bedford and Rhonda to observe. Elle hesitated, then getting a determined look on her cute face she walked up to me. Standing in front of me, slipping one and then a second finger into my wet pussy she began finger banging my needy pussy while massaging my breasts. Soon the only sounds in the courtroom were my moans and the squelching sound her fingers made in my wet vagina. God if felt good, I was moaning in delight letting myself go and humping back on her fingers trying to get off. Chasing the orgasm, I now needed to be a good slave girl.
“Time,” announced the bailiff and Elle pulled her fingers out of my pussy while I groaned in disappointment. I have become such a slut now.
“Is she sexually aroused?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“Did you detect any artificial lubricants?”
“No, your honor.”
“Smell your fingers and tell me the source of the aroma.”
Blushing Elle brought two fingers glistening with my juices to her nose and inhaled. “I smell natural vaginal fluids, you honor. No artificial lubricants.”
“Lick the juices off your fingers and tell me what you taste.”
Elle hesitated, her face flushed in embarrassment, and then stuck both fingers in her mouth and sucked them clean. Regaining her composure, Elle responded with an air of confidence like she knew what she was talking about.
“Pussy juice.”
Judge Kensington smirked, “Silly me, I forgot to lay the foundation for your personal knowledge concerning the scent and flavor of natural vaginal fluids. I could ask all parties for a stipulation as to your qualifications but this will be more educational.”
Elle froze like a deer in the headlights, looking up at the judge in horror as it dawned upon her what was coming. The judge paused, looking down at her like a wolf about to slaughter a baby lamb while murmurs and soft laughter emanated from the audience. Not being a law student I was not sure what was coming, but if it was what I thought this was not going to be fun for Elle. Looking around, most people in the courtroom seemed amused. Claire and Mrs. Price were grinning while Warner Huntington had a concerned look on his face at the current turn of events.
“How shall I put this? Miss Woods, how many different times have you tasted directly from the source?
Blushing Elle tried to deflect the question. Hoping to avoid making a detailed answer, not realizing that the more she struggled, the more she became ensnared in the spider’s web. “Are you asking for the number of times with the same woman? Can you please clarify your question?”
“I understand that women have more stamina than men and that you likely serviced some women more than once, or more than once in a day. How many different women have you tasted?”
“A lot, your honor.”
“For some women ‘a lot” could be five while for others it would be over fifty. Which is it for you, Miss Woods?”
“Over fifty, your honor.”
“Over one hundred?”
“I’m not sure, could be,” stuttered Elle, blushing a nice pinkish red. I was really enjoying watching her public humiliation. She was such a slut. Nobody deserves this more than her.
“So well over fifty and your tongue could have intimate knowledge of well over one hundred different women’s vaginas getting a good taste of each one?
“Yes, your honor,” replied a visibly defeated Elle.
“Some women taste better than others?”
“Yes, your honor.”
How does Miss Calloway taste?”
“Quite good, better than most.”
“I find that Miss Elle Woods not only has the foundational knowledge for a lay witness, but that she would also qualify as an expert witness concerning the identification of vaginal fluids based on her rather large sample size. Now we will conduct the Nip to Drip test to see if Ms. Calloway has a drippy pleasure slut snatch. Ms. Calloway, get on the counsel table assuming the slave kneel position facing me. Ms. Woods you will manipulate Ms. Calloway’s breasts using your fingers and mouth in a manner designed to ignite her slave heat. Ms. Kincaid, please put a piece of paper under your client to catch her drips. You may talk her through this. I think five minutes should do it. I want quiet in the courtroom when the test starts.”
The bailiff helped me up onto the counsel table facing the judge with my knees spread wide apart on the edge of the table. There was laughter and comments from the audience while I was put in place. Anything from “nice ass,” “wish I could afford her,” “stupid slut,” “definitely a pleasure slut,” and numerous derogatory comments regarding Elle. Many hoped she would end up naked in a collar like me. A piece of paper was torn from a notepad and unceremoniously placed between my thighs under my sopping wet kitty. After dripping yesterday, I knew it was not a matter of whether I would drip, but when, as I became resigned to my fate. The courtroom quieted as Elle approached me.
Taking a deep breath Elle began to massage my breasts and it felt good. It felt even better when she began working over my nipples as I started panting as I felt the moisture gathering in my vagina. It felt divine when Elle took my left nipple in her mouth and started working it over with her tongue. For a woman the mental aspect of sex coupled with the sounds and smells is often more important to her arousal then physical contact. Being publicly manipulated by my frenemy made the situation all the more embarrassing for me while also spiking my arousal. Claire ignited my slave heat by whispering in my ear about what she wanted to do with me as her sex slave. Elle was moving her mouth back and forth from one nipple to the other while Claire described how she was going to fuck me with her big vibrating strapon and that was it. Blushing, I dripped on the paper making a soft splat sound and the test was over.
Elle, lost in a haze and not noticing my drips, kept working over my breasts. Judge Kensington told Claire to reward the slave. I felt her hand moving between my thighs from behind as her thumb entered my pussy quickly finding my G spot and her fingers massaging my nubbin pushing me into my climax. It was a good one. I shuddered in bliss, moaning loudly as I squirted on the paper below me. Actually it felt almost like I peed a little. Regardless it felt good, I wanted to give the nice judge a big hug in thanks. I was truly becoming a horny slut. Part of me actually enjoyed putting on that show. Claire removed her fingers and gently pushed Elle away from my now sensitive nipples.
Elle’s face had a flushed look on it, she was squeezing her thighs together and her nipples were prominently protruding through her top. Rumor had it in the sorority that she had unusually long nipples when aroused, at least an inch long and thick like a gumdrop. They were often on display in the house poking through her tops. As a pledge she was often hazed for her condition with the sisters pointing out her boobie boners, nippili erecti, nippleitis, nipple-ons, missile launchers, titty-bullets or titty hard-ons to name a few. If she were a ponygirl her name would be Gumdrop. My personal favorite was nipplewoods. After fingering my pussy, licking my juices off her fingers, and playing with my breasts I was not sure who was more aroused now, Elle or me. The ever perceptive judge noticed.
“Miss. Woods, are you sexually aroused? Your rather large nipples are protruding through your blouse.”
Good old nipplewoods stammered, “No, your honor.” While shaking her head still squeezing her thighs together once more. She had it bad right now.
Judge Kensington refused to let it go. “I do not like being lied to. You can prove it by removing your panties. No, Ms. Calloway will remove them for you. Now.” The judge looked at me and gestured for me to proceed.
This was only getting weirder as I hopped off the table and kneeled in front of Elle. Oh, I could smell her arousal. This was going to be fun! Even though I was naked wearing only an inmate collar in a courtroom I still retained some of the bitchiness that made me famous in my sorority. Reaching under Elle’s tight skirt I ran my hands up her legs with my thumbs on the insides of her thighs. When I hit bare skin I discovered she was wearing thigh high stockings giving me easy access to her panties. A nice girl would have run her hands on the outside of Elle’s thighs and gently pulled down her panties. Instead Elle was stuck with a naughty pleasure slut with a mischievous streak. With my left hand I reached around grasping her panties from behind. With my right hand I found pay dirt, a sopping wet crotch. I promptly gave her a pussy wedgie, driving the crotch of her panties as far into her sopping wet cunt as I could with my thumb causing her to either gasp or moan. I really couldn’t tell which, nor did I care. Then I grabbed the top of her panties in front and pulled them down her legs and over her ankles as she stepped out of them.
In my hands was a pair of light pink boyshort undies with a luscious lace trim and a flower detail on the front. The problem with light colored panties like this is that when you leak it leaves a very visible dark stain. Elle’s panties had a large wet spot in the crotch. Grinning, I stood up, handing Elle her wet panties and returned where Claire was standing.
“Miss Woods, approach the bench and hand me your panties.”
Blushing Elle approached the judge in her pink open toed four-inch stiletto heels that matched her blouse to a T. In the sorority we nicknamed that style CFMs or cum fuck me heels. Judge Kensington held out her gavel making Elle drape her panties on the mallet. Smelling the panties with a knowing look the judge gave Elle another hard look. I swear I saw the same predatory gleam to her eyes as when she first looked at me. Holding up Elle’s panties with the large wet stain in the crotch with both hands for all to see, the judge shook her head in disappointment.
“It is not nice to lie to a judge, Miss Woods. I expect candor from all attorneys appearing before me. You will report to my chambers at 4:30 pm for judicial discipline and mentoring concerning your dishonesty and the frivolous and unfounded claims against these fine attorneys that they were conspiring to commit a fraud upon this court. I look forward to expanding your legal education concerning proper courtroom decorum which is absolutely essential to the administration of justice. You have much to learn young lady. I’ll hang onto these for the time being,” as she dropped Elle’s panties on her desk.
“Yes, mistress…I mean your honor,” replied Elle. Blushing a nice shade of pinkish red. I swear old nipplewoods was squeezing her thighs together once more as she learned her fate. Weirdly, a part of me was jealous of my frenemy’s soon to be destiny.
“Now Miss Woods, I asked you that question because I need a volunteer for the final part of the evidentiary hearing and I thought you would be perfect for the job. What do you say?”
Elle, clearly trying to get back in the judge’s good graces and not sensing the trap, replied, “I’ll do it.”
“Good, Mrs. Price and Ms. Kincaid, please take Miss Calloway and Miss Woods into one of the attorney rooms. Miss Woods has kindly volunteered to be the test subject. Strip her naked and have Miss Calloway demonstrate her oral skills to everyone’s satisfaction. I will recall this case for my ruling when you are done. Next case.”
Elle died a little more right then, that stupid bitch. I was really going to enjoy this now that I was a pleasure slut without shame. The bailiff escorted us into the attorney room that was attached to the back of the courtroom. Once the door shut behind us a thoroughly defeated Elle just stripped off her skirt, blouse and the really cute bra that matched her pink panties. Holy shit, her erect nipples really were almost an inch long AND they were pierced with barbell studs that matched her navel and clitoral hood piercings. Nipplewoods really was a slut. She was left standing in her thigh high stockings and her pink CFM heels. Then it got interesting. Mrs. Price pulled out some handcuffs and soon Nipplewoods was sitting in a chair with her hands cuffed behind her back and her legs spread open. I could hear the court in session in the background through the door.
Mrs. Price sneered at Elle, “This slave is going to eat your pussy until you have a screaming orgasm that the judge can hear on the bench. Got it?”
“No, please don’t do that to me,” pleaded Elle, with a panicked look on her face. Somehow Elle’s nipples grew another quarter inch giving herself away.
Claire laughed, “We have all day honey.”
Elle had a really nice looking and clearly aroused pussy she kept shaved with a tuft of blonde hair on top. Without waiting for instructions I grabbed her by the thighs, pulled her butt to the edge of the chair and dove in. She tasted musky and a little tart, not bad while not nearly as nice as Claire. Wanting to get this over with I jammed my tongue as far into her hole as I could and started exploring the depths of her essence.
“Look at these big ol’ nipples. They’re huge, like big gumdrops. I wonder how sensitive they are?” exclaimed Mrs. Price.
“Let’s find out,” replied Claire.
I looked up from between Elle’s thighs seeing that she had a really nice set of perky breasts that I had not really noticed due to my fascination with those wondrous nipples. Claire was gently massaging her right nipple while Mrs. Price drooled on the left one and then began lightly rubbing her finger on it. My nipples tingled just looking at all the attention she was getting. Elle was going nuts wiggling in the chair as I held her in place.
Clair giggled, “I hear Judge Kensington likes to strip down the interns during their mentoring sessions and amuse herself with their bodies. I bet she has a field day with these nipples.”
Mrs. Price chortled, “I talked to one girl who described her experience in great detail. The judge does like to use nipple clamps on her charges.”
“I heard that’s just one of her many kinks. Oh, I think she’s just about there,” laughed Claire.
I could feel the twitching of Elle’s legs and hear the ever shorter and more broken hissing of her breath that the tipping point had arrived. After one last, long, exquisitely slow swipe of my tongue I planted my mouth squarely over Elle’s clitoris and attacked it with long hard swirls interspersed with flurries of tiny precise rapid licks. Letting out a low moan she bucked her hips as I continued my attack on her panic button until she exploded into a frenzy, twerking about in the chair. I gave her some gentle kisses and then lapped up her juices to bring her down.
“Again, until she screams,” commanded Claire.
Once again I latched onto her nubbin with my mouth attacking her clitoris with a flurry of hard, fast licks while I pushed two fingers from my right hand into her well lubricated pussy. Curling them upward towards her belly, finding her G spot I quickly honed in on it, vigorously massaging that erogenous zone as she started trying to pull away. With my left arm I held her in place not allowing her to move away as I tried this approach, trying to make her scream in orgasmic bliss with a strong frontal assault.
“Anyway, this intern told me that the judge uses a variety of items during these mentoring sessions including wrist and ankle cuffs, a spreader bar, blindfolds, a riding crop, vibrators, a collar and of course her rather large Purple Pussy Pounder vibrating strapon,” continued Mrs. Price.
“She named her strapon?” snickered Claire. “Although knowing her that doesn’t surprise me.”
“She really knows how to use it, working over a girl with it,” snickered Mrs. Price.
My efforts launched Elle into her second climax as she groaned, flooding my face with her juices. She shook and twitched, pussy clamping down on my fingers, muscles in her legs spasming and sending her feet kicking in the air behind me while I held her in place. I was actually beginning to enjoy the flavor of her juices as I began the pointless task of gently licking her inner thighs clean while she came down from her peak. Her pussy released its grip on my fingers and I pulled them out. I wondered if the description of Judge Kensington’s intentions for Elle heightened her arousal as they did mine as I squeezed my thighs together.
“Again,” commanded Claire.
The scent of Elle filled the air in the small room. Once again I pushed my fingers into Elle’s kitty pumping and twisting them in and out of her. The skin of Elle’s bare lips was slick with her juices and the inner pink petals of her dragged out whenever my fingers slid away as if trying to hold onto me and pull them back inside. The small wet rhythmic sounds permeated the room. I sensed pre-orgasmic pangs sending a writhing hunger up through Elle’s core into her the pit of her stomach as I worked over her pussy.
“She goes around the world on them with her Purple Pussy Pounder,” chuckled Mrs. Price. Around the world, what’s that I wondered, not familiar with that phrase?
“She plunders their back doors with it?” asked Claire.
“Oh yes, and the judge makes it enjoyable using a finger vibe to massage the girl’s pearl until she cums while the vibrating strapon is pumping away in her ass. Most girls become regulars, seeking follow up mentoring sessions,” giggled Mrs. Price.
Oh, I get it now. Around the world, mouth, pussy and ass. Giving me an idea for something new in my quest to make Elle scream. I lowered my mouth to her rosebud covered with the juices that had leaked out of her pussy and began to polish it with my tongue sending a shiver up her spine as I sought her scream. She moaned in desire as I continued to aggressively finger fuck her, adding a third finger and then a fourth as she groaned in pleasure while humping back on my fingers like the little slut that she was. Using my left hand, I started massaging her clitoris almost immediately, setting her off into another thrashing climax that only generated groans, not the screams that I needed.
“Again, let’s get a little more aggressive with her nips. Give them some good squeezes and twists,” suggested Claire.
“Good idea, she has been really responsive so far. They are so big and sensitive.”
Looking up I saw the mauling Elle’s nipples were receiving as Claire and Mrs. Price twisted and squeezed them. Elle’s groans became louder as they manipulated her titties. I decided to change tactics once again in my quest to make Elle scream loud enough for Judge Kensington to hear her cries. This time I collected Elle’s juices on my left thumb and shoved it up her ass followed by two fingers in her snatch while my tongue lingered around her clitoris. I edged her for what seemed a long time for me and must have been an eternity for her. My fingers never really hit her G spot just right and my tongue lingered around her nubbin without making direct contact.
Look how sensitive they are,” giggled Mrs. Price.
“This is fun, mauling these gumdrops,” snickered Claire.
“Is it me, or do these things just seem to get bigger the harder you squeeze them?” laughed Mrs. Price, laughing in delight.
“You’re right. I didn’t think it could get any bigger, but it did,” giggled Claire.
Elle’s body trembled in frustration as my ministrations pushed her to the precipice of her climax without letting her have what she needed so badly. Elle’s gasps were so frequent now they were a flutter in her throat and she was vocalizing little moans whenever she could still draw enough breath to do so. Within a couple of minutes, she was trying to form the beginnings of words but couldn’t manage a complete syllable as her body twitched. I had her on the edge now. Simultaneously my fingers found her G spot, massaging it perfectly as my tongue honed in on her skittle while my thumb made circular motions in her ass and that was all it took to push her over the edge into a frenzy as her body thrashed about. Despite all of her hopeless attempts to keep control Elle cried out deeply and loudly as her orgasm overtook her as the sounds from the courtroom ceased and then turned to laughter. “I’m pretty sure Judge Kensington heard that one from the bench,” I thought to myself as I pulled away from her with a happy smile on my moist face.
We went back into the courtroom and Judge Kensington recalled the case. Elle Woods was always impeccably dressed and put together. That was no longer the case now after four earth shattering orgasms. Her hair was a sweaty mess, the buttons on her blouse were off by one and it was not tucked in in the back. The thigh high stocking on her left leg had fallen down to her knee and she wobbled in her four inch CFMs as she stood in court trying to maintain her composure while many in the audience snickered.
“Based on Miss Woods’ scream I am finding in favor of Miss Calloway. I have signed the order approving the civil compromise and order it filed today and a certified copy to all parties. The slave formerly known as Daphne Calloway, Slave Identification Number US-CJB81-P4L2, will be transported to the Big D Slave Market forthwith for processing and then transported to the Lone Oak Equestrian Center for training. When the training is complete she will be sold at auction with the proceeds going to Amford Holdings for disbursement. If there is nothing else, we are done with this case.”
The judge continued. “Miss Woods, you are not allowed to leave the courtroom. I received a motion while you were otherwise occupied alleging that you committed prosecutorial misconduct while working on the Jonas Arias case assisting DDA Hamilton that resulted in a wrongful conviction. A non-opposition was filed agreeing with the moving papers. The DA computer logs indicate you deleted exculpatory evidence consisting of a video tape that would have completely exonerated Mr. Arias. The Attorney General is currently conducting a criminal investigation. Mr. Hamilton is here for the people and Mr. Hayes for Mr. Arias. Miss Woods, do you have an attorney to represent you?”
Wow, I didn’t see that coming and neither did Elle since she didn’t have an attorney. This is where Mrs. Price really impressed me along with Claire. The judge allowed Elle to retain Mrs. Price and then all the attorneys joined the judge in chambers. Mrs. Price asked Claire to join her so I was left in the courtroom where I was secured on a slave mat with my hands cuffed behind my back, a leash attached to my collar and secured to the ground. My current seat afforded me a ringside seat for what followed. The attorneys returned and Mrs. Price and Claire took Elle into the attorney room where they remained for about an hour. Meanwhile I watched free person after free person enter the courtroom and leave naked wearing a collar through another door. It was all very depressing.
When Elle returned she accepted a civil compromise that was almost identical to mine. Then it got worse for her as she was stripped of her clothes in the courtroom; Mrs. Price helped her through it. I was really beginning to feel sorry for Elle. I mean we had been rivals but I never wanted this to happen to her. Once her clothes were removed the audience got their chuckles as she removed each of her piercings, handing them to Mrs. Price who put each piece in a small manila envelope. There was only one complication when the barbell on Elle’s left nipple became stuck and the bailiff needed pliers to twist it off. Then nipplewoods kneeled, was collared and handcuffed and led out of the courtroom with her high beams on further demonstrating the attributes of the pleasure slut she had become.
For my part the whole courtroom experience had been one humiliation followed by another made worse by Elle until finally it was over. With Elle gone Claire pulled me into a conference room for a quick pep talk. For starters Elle would also be at Lone Oak for training. Claire wanted the two of us to bury the hatchet now that we were sister slaves. We needed to learn to support each other. Claire covered in greater detail some of the options that might be available to me if I did well at Lone Oak along with some of the potential pitfalls.
Then it was off to the Big D for processing. I had seen how slaves were transported and never really given it any thought as it didn’t affect me. Now it became personal, backed into a cage designed for a medium sized dog while gagged with my hands cuffed behind my back further signifying my changed status in society. I was miserable in the cage, crying as I was moved into the back of a van for transportation.
(Continued below)
Daphne's Downfall Ch. 2
Daphne's Downfall Ch. 2
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Re: Daphne's Downfall Ch. 2
The Big D Slave Market was a different experience this time when I knew I wasn’t leaving as a free woman. It just changed your perspective knowing you were leaving a slave. Everything seemed more real, not a game like when I was slave graded with my sorority sisters. We treated that event as one big party, returning to the house for extended toy play to release our pent up excitement. One thing that hadn’t changed was the effect this place had on my libido. There was just something about this slave market that spiked a girl’s arousal and I was no different. My pussy was leaking like a sieve by the time I crawled out of the cage for in processing. Since I wasn’t being sold I was moved straight to medical for my physical, urine and blood workup and birth control implant after getting the Big D collar around my neck accompanied by the standard warnings.
So there I was strapped down on the exam chair, legs secured in the stirrups, arms cuffed above my head. While the cute male veterinarian was prying open my very moist vagina with a speculum to examine my cervix, Claire sauntered in like she owned the place. She was still wearing her skirt suit from court, with a VIP guest pass hanging around her neck and a pair of cowboy boots that she had traded in her three inch heels for. Damn, she pulled off the cowboy boots and skirt combo well. Claire winked at me and looked over the vet’s shoulder feigning interest as he shined a light into my vagina. The vet finished and gave me a clean bill of health and we were off to my next stop. I was hoping it was shipping while dreading the alternative as Claire led me by my leash, gagged with my hands cuffed behind my back with a handler trailing along.
“Daph, you really do have a pretty kitty, never really had a good look until you were spread out in that exam chair. Gonna make it purr real nice when we visit Merle for your badging.”
When I was a girl, Daddy and I took Angus, our black lab, to the vet to get neutered. He was all happy, tail wagging, head sticking out the window on the ride over to the vet. Angus bounded out of the car in the parking lot on his leash ready for a new adventure and took about five steps before he realized where he was. It was full stop pulling on the leash trying desperately to get back into the car. We were walking down a hallway in the maze that was the Big D and my brain heard badging, the nickname for branding and I went full stop just like poor Angus. I pulled on the leash while letting out a whine through the gag, shaking my head no as I started to cry. Claire turned around holding me in place with one hand on the leash. That girl was strong.
“Yes, you are getting branded and it is going to hurt like hell. There is a right way and a wrong way to get branded. Trust me on this. I know, I have four and Merle did three of mine.”
I had seen girls branded! Maribelle convinced me it was a good idea that all incoming pledges get the Big D badge. I went along with it, I mean, it wasn’t ME getting my ass fried. Now it was my turn and I had so hoped to avoid this, especially when it was not mentioned at all yesterday. Claire just stood there staring at me with those blue eyes that captivated my soul. It was like she was hypnotizing me with her will as she cupped my face with her other hand.
“Merle may be a total redneck but he is a master at badging a girl. There is something about being strapped down in the branding bench that just makes me want to suck the blacksmith’s cock. And I am pretty much a lesbian. I volunteered to slave tip him after the first time and asked for him by name for the other two, slave tipping him each time.”
Claire volunteered to give a guy a blow job! This couldn’t be Claire, the six-foot-tall strong Amazon lesbian who always seemed to look down at men with disdain. In another life she would have been a Valkyrie. For her a man was something she stepped on, squashed, that got scraped off the sole of her shoe, like a cockroach, bubble gum or dog shit. There I was looking at her in shocked disbelief. I mean, I was so stunned I even stopped crying.
Claire confidently stared at me. “You are going to walk into that blacksmith shop, lay yourself down on a branding bench, offer Merle a slave tip and give him the best blow job ever if he accepts. We will take care of you in there. You will make me proud in front of my friend, his colleagues and every other slave girl getting badged. You understand what’s expected of you in there?”
I looked at her with big eyes and just nodded my head in utter disbelief. Claire pulled me towards her and leaned down, kissing me on the forehead and again making everything all right. Somehow absorbing my doubts and infusing me with resilience with a single kiss. The skin on my forehead where her lips touched me hummed with an electrical charge. What kind of strange hold did this woman have over me? I nodded my head when she pulled me on the leash and we were off. Before I knew it she led me into the blacksmith’s shop where I was confronted with hot air and the stench of burning flesh and urine. My forehead still tingled with the energy from her kiss. Surprising myself I marched right up to the first vacant branding bench and lay upon it like I owned the place. Before I knew it I was securely strapped down with my ass up in the air. Although I froze in terror when the girl next to me screamed through her bite gag as the Big D badge was burned into her ass I did not lose my resolve.
A thundering voice yelled across the shop, “Claire Kincaid! I’ll be damned. You’re the last person I expected to see in here today.”
The source of the voice was Merle Atkins, a big man in his forties, about 6’5” with a dad body, a few days’ growth on his chin and a big dip under his lip. He wore wranglers with a Copenhagen circle worn into the back pocket, cowboy boots, a sweaty Big D t-shirt and a John Deer cap propped on his head. Merle strode over picking up Claire in a big bear hug before putting her down. Then he spits a disgusting glob of tobacco juice on the ground right in front of me. Aunt Claire was on a first name basis with a blacksmith at the Big D slave market. Never saw that one coming.
“What brings you into my shop with this nice piece of slave tail with the drippy slave snatch?”
“This is my niece, Daphne, and she is here to get the Big D badge burned between the cheeks on the left side. This morning she became a slave as part of a civil judgment. She has something to ask you.”
Claire removed my gag and I looked up at Merle. I shuddered as another girl shrieked through her gag as a blacksmith left their mark. Soon that would be me. I wasn’t sure I could speak coherently.
“Mr. Adkins…um…can I…um…slave tip you sir…ah…before you…brand me, please?”
Merle grinned down at me adjusting the branding bench to get my head up to the right height. Since I really couldn’t move my head or use my hands I figured I would have to use a lot of tongue while getting face fucked. The thought of getting face-fucked right now, strapped to a branding bench at the Big D, was weirdly appealing as my pussy throbbed in anticipation. Even with my kinky thoughts I was really concerned that Merle’s cock would be more than I could handle. I mean he was a big guy but when he pulled it out it was normal size and I had no problem accommodating him. Soon he was pumping away in my mouth as I massaged his shaft with my tongue trying my best to get him off.
Claire had a point. This was one of my more enthusiastic blow jobs with the atmosphere spiking my slave heat with my drippy slave snatch. That is what Merle called it after all. Claire started harvesting my fluids, capturing them on her fingers and moistening my rosebud. Then she lightly rubbed my wet starburst, sensuously massaging my sphincter on the outside sending jolts to my clit and nipples. I actually tried pushing back on her thumb seeking penetration all to no avail as I moaned happily on the cock in my mouth.
All the while Merle and Claire were taking a trip down memory lane for my benefit like when he made her hump the branding iron handle before getting her first badge. That climax was momentous for Claire, convincing her that it made the whole process better. So much so that she hunted him down afterwards, slave tipping him with a blow job in the parking lot. After that she called ahead for each subsequent brand to make sure Merle was available. Then there was the Olympic circles badging where Claire brought in the girls from the bronze medal ponygirl team. Merle was still impressed with those women even today. Most Olympic athletes get the circles tattooed, but not these girls. Real ponygirls get brands, not tattoos. Then he invited Claire to speak at one of his slave psychology classes at SMU over the summer. Yes, Merle the redneck was a professor of psychology at SMU who put himself through school working as a blacksmith at the Big D. Didn’t see that one coming either. Currently he was an advisor at the Big D who moonlighted in the smithy, loving his work. Then his hips started giving him away as his thrusts became more urgent and he unloaded in my mouth. Claire told me to swallow and I did, not missing a drop this time as I worked to perfect a new skill.
Merle put his junk away while Claire positioned a worn bite gag in my mouth, securing both it and the fresh taste of semen in place. Grabbing a branding iron out of the coals Merle squatted down in front of me so that we were at eye level with each other. He held the iron with the branding head between us. I could feel the heat emanating from the bright orange head bearing the Big D logo on my face. Merle blew on the glowing head causing the coloration to fluctuate. I was captivated, marveling in the beauty of the glowing iron. It almost seemed alive. Merle sensed my awe.
“Look at the magnificence of the hot branding head, the different shades of hot orange as I blow on it, it is alive. Badging a girl is an art form. It is not just pushing down and counting to ten. Creating the perfect brand is a combination of the right heat, dwell time holding the iron in place, rocking the head to ensure uniformity and the force used to push the iron into the flesh. The question is do you want the perfect brand?”
I nodded my head with glazed eyes hypnotized by the glowing iron before them. Merle grinned and spat on the branding head causing it to sizzle as my eyes bulged open bringing me out of my trance. What was I getting myself into? My nipples were as hard as diamonds and me pussy throbbing in need strapped down helplessly on this bench engulfed in the heat, sounds and smells of the smithy. My inner slut had definitely broken free as my pussy drooled.
“Most slave girls fear the brand, fight it, and fail to respect it. Badging finalizes their fall into slavery driving home the inevitability of their new lives and thus leading to acceptance. You respected the badge when you came into my shop having already recognized the finality of your enslavement. I can see it in your eyes now, respect and lust. Your Aunt Claire embraced her badging, respecting the art of a hot iron stamp, making love to the branding iron. It is a truly transformative experience. Most slave girls remember the intensity of their first slavegasm rolling in the sand on the auction block and the pain of badging. Only a small few get to make love to the branding iron, experiencing the inferno-like passion of climaxing during the badging process. Every detail gets permanently etched in their memory. They are the lucky ones.”
With that Merle stood up, moving into position behind me loosening the strap around my waist giving me some freedom of movement. I could still feel the warmth from the heated iron behind me. He had a real way with the branding iron handle rubbing, massaging my labia with the smooth wooden handle working his way to my clitty. It was like he knew my body better than I did as I moaned in pleasure. In no time at all he had me panting in need as I felt a massive orgasm starting to build up from deep within me.
Merle had me on the edge rubbing my distended nubbin with the handle. He pulled it away and rammed it home followed by quick, deep strokes in my birth canal. I was humping back for all I was worth like the needy little slut I had become. Somehow each stroke caught me just right and I was getting close to a very explosive climax. There was something oddly erotic about humping the handle of the branding iron that was about to burn a badge into your ass while enveloped in the smells and sounds of the smithy. Yesterday I had learned to associate pain with sexual pleasure to the point I sought the pain to enhance my pleasure. The excruciating cry of another girl in pain triggered a response in my subconscious initiating my explosion and I blew a gasket all over the handle drenching it with my fluids as I rode out a most exquisite climax.
The handle was gently pulled out as I gasped in disappointment through the bite gag, not wanting it to end, needing more, so ready for more, much more. I wanted another. For some strange reason I was reminded of that scene from Oliver Twist where he asks, “Please, sir, I want some more.” My plea was granted. Claire’s fingers quickly replaced the handle, I recognized her touch, sending a jolt of excitement through me. Merle strode over to the forge pushing the head of the branding iron deep into the glowing coals. It was the only one with pussy juice glistening on the handle. My juices started steaming in the heat of the forge.
“The iron will be the right temperature when the handle has dried,” grinned Merle as he proceeded to tighten the strap around my waist followed by rubbing an oddly cold antiseptic wipe on the inside of my left buttock.
Dazed, I stared at the steaming branding iron, watching the head heat up as I remained in a strange sexual fog as Claire fingered my pussy.
“Hold it. You will cum when he pulls the branding iron from the coals. When you can see the white hot iron come to life as it is pulled from the flames.”
Merle gently ran his fingers through my hair, “Embrace the pain and let it ignite your new life as a slave, rise like a phoenix from the ashes embracing your slavery.”
I moaned in frustration trying not to cum. Claire’s fingers were doing a magic dance in my pussy finding my G spot and rubbing distended clitoris. I tried humping her fingers but could no longer move. Another blacksmith pulled a branding iron from the flames and strode away. I could not see where he went but another girl cried out in pain almost pushing me over the precipit into another frenzy as I watched the steam come off the handle of my brand. My branding iron. Mine. I held my climax in, waiting for permission. The agony, the anticipation of the wait was getting to me as Claire diddled my pussy.
Then the steam stopped. The handle was dry and Merle strode over to the forge yanking my branding iron from the flames, wiping pieces of coal off the glowing head. It was alive! It’s beauty dancing before my eyes.
“Now, cum for me now!” And I did, spectacularly, the beauty of the glowing badge captivating me as I gazed upon it. Claire increased the intensity of her ministrations in my pussy with a dual pronged approach massaging my G spot and rubbing my happy button. I exploded! Claire quickly removed her fingers and I felt my cheeks pulled apart and the heat emanating off the branding head as I shuddered in orgasmic bliss.
The searing heat initiated pain screamed through every cell in my body unlike anything I had ever felt before. It felt like the burning head was pressed into my sensitive flesh for days while in reality I knew it was only seconds. I felt the breath knocked out of my lungs and heard a shrill moan escape my lips through the bite stick as I tried to chew through it. I felt tears flowing down my cheeks as I peed into the grate below, as my vision blurred.
I had blacked out! In a haze I sensed a tender throbbing, no a thrusting sensation, in my pussy. Then I felt a cool ointment being spread on my injury dampening the pain, followed by the application of an aerosol bandage. All the while the gentle throbbing in my pussy intensified. The strap around my waist was loosened, freeing me somewhat. There was a presence in my vagina and it felt good, really good. As I came to I was gently humping back, god it felt good. Claire squatted down in front of me removing my gag, wiping my hair out of my eyes. She smiled at me as I stared into those blue eyes. The presence in my pussy popped out as I moaned in disappointment. I recognized the feel of the branding iron handle rubbing between my labia and on my clit. Furiously I humped the handle, desperate for release.
Claire smirked, “That’s it. Make love to the branding iron. You got this.”
Moaning in delight I humped that handle like there was no tomorrow. God this felt soooo good. Merle pulled it away, plunging it back into my pussy, fucking me with the handle. I fucked it back, hard! Furiously thrusting back into each thrust needing release like a woman possessed, pushing myself into a blissful female nirvana. There I was in the middle of the smithy surrounded by scared slave girls getting badged while my ass throbbed in pain. I screamed in ecstasy as only a pleasure slut can, freed of the restraints that constrain a free woman. See me now! A slave! A pleasure slut! I exploded, convulsing all over the handle as Merle slowed the thrusts as he smoothly massaged my throbbing sex as I rode out the rollercoaster of my frenzy until I collapsed on the branding bench gasping for breath. My need sated as Merle gently removed the branding iron from my pussy, putting it back into the forge with my juices glistening from the handle for the next slave girl’s badging.
I stared at the steam coming off the handle of my branding iron as Merle released the straps holding me in place. Merle helped me to my feet as I tried to get my wits about me. While I regained my bearings he proudly pointed out the framed autographed copy of the Sports Illustrated cover with Claire in full USA team ponygirl tack absent the helmet hanging on the wall. She was standing proudly with the gold medal from the London games hanging around her neck. Right next to it was a picture of the Olympic badge burned into Claire right where a tramp stamp would go. Claire had autographed that one too.
Claire led me out of the smithy where there was a holding cage with a bunch of just branded girls with shocked expressions on their tear stained faces. Most of them were coated in sand from the auction blocks. I figured that was where I was headed until Claire grabbed a bottle of water from the table next to the cage and led me into an interview room, closing the door and leaving the slave handler in the hallway. She gave me some water and I drank greedily not realizing how thirsty I was. Then she pulled out a roll of wintergreen Lifesavers and popped two in my mouth. I swear she thinks of everything as I sucked on their minty freshness.
While I enjoyed the Lifesavers she pulled a pronged chastity belt out of her purse along with some lube. After lubing the prongs, she bent me over to insert them.
“Good job in there. You made me really proud. Next is getting you out of here and off to Lone Oak. If you can drape yourself onto a branding bench here, Lone Oak will be a piece of cake. Trust me, you got this.”
Claire stood me up and sealed the chastity belt in place. With a gentle touch she swiped some hair out of my face, capturing me once again with those magnetic blue eyes. I could drown in those eyes a happy girl. Claire leaned down to kiss me. Almost in a trance I rose up on my toes turning my head, my eyes fluttering closed as she pressed her lips to mine. Every nerve in my body sprang to life, my skin humming with joy. Her mouth was soft as she pressed her lips to mine. I squealed in surprise as my lips were frozen in paradise.
Paradise only lasted a moment before she pulled away, leaving me stunned and shaking, feeling a sudden sense of loss. As I stood there on wobbly legs she held me in her strong arms. Leaning my head against her chest I felt loved and cared for like never before. God, I was in heaven, safe in her strong arms never wanting her to let me go.
“We will get through this together. I will check on you at Lone Oak when I can get away.” I was speechless, completely discombobulated in her arms, only able to nod my head in thanks. She kissed me on the forehead one last time making everything all right once again. When she let me go I fell from heaven and into hell when she turned me over to a teenaged slave handler (he had to be at least 18 to work here) named Jed who promptly gagged me and led me away. I had a chance to quickly look over my shoulder back at Claire. There she stood in her skirt suit and cowboy boots, hands on her hips, looking after me. God, she looked hot sending another tingle through my body. Claire blew me a kiss and I stumbled, catching myself focusing on keeping up with the handler as he pulled me around the corner out of sight.
Down the hallway I saw two wranglers pull a naked slave girl that looked like Elle Woods into a room across from a pee grate in the hallway. Jed stopped me at the pee grate allowing me to relieve myself. I snuck a quick look into the room, spying Elle bent over the table facing me. The wranglers were doing rock, paper, scissors for some prize, likely first dibs on her body.
Jed noticed where I was looking and laughed, “Fred and George are legends around here for their double anal bangs during their fifteen minute breaks. They are doing that skank a favor showing her what her new life as a slut will be like. Now squat and pee slave cunt.”
I could hear George and Fred’s colorful dialogue as I lowered myself over the grate. George was a large blonde-haired man with a crew cut and acne scarred face, forty something with a dad body. Fred was the shorter, stocky bald black man in his mid-thirties whose rock crushed George’s scissors meaning he got to go first. I could see Elle grimacing through her gag as Fred lubed her asshole while he talked to her.
“Slut, your ass and my big cock are a match made in slave heaven. I have your wet slave snatch right over the corner of the table so you can grind off on it while I tap your dirtbox. Relax, try to enjoy it and it will go easier for you. Don’t matter to me if you cum or try to gnaw through that gag. You have no choice now as a slave but to take it in your winking wagon wheel,” Fred sneered.
It was a messy experience peeing through a chastity belt that I never want to repeat again all the while watching Elle. Fred grabbed a handful of Elle’s curly blonde hair, pulling her head back while thrusting his hips forward driving his cock into her ass in one forceful thrust. Her eyes bugged out of their sockets as the gag muffled a loud groan. Then she composed herself and started grinding her pussy on the corner of the table. “You go girl,” I thought. Jed believed in the “drip dry” method, leaving me squatting over the grate to dry instead of wiping me down so it looked like I would be here for a while.
Since we had time to kill while I “dried” and the Fred and George show was arousing Jed, my pimply-faced eighteen-year-old removed my gag and ordered, “mouth.” While sucking him off I learned that Jeb had just started his shift after his days off and had a three-day load for me. This meant he wouldn’t last long, thank God. With his cock in my mouth and my nose in his pubic hair I couldn’t watch the action in the other room but I could hear what was happening.
George was rooting Fred on, “Pound that slut’s backdoor. Show her whose boss. Looks like she is trying to grind one off, total slut in slave heat.”
“Yeah she is, I can feel it. I love it when they cum while I am banging them in the poop chute.”
Jeb decided to prolong his blowjob by pulling his cock from my mouth and rubbing it all over my face while leaking pre-cum. I looked up and he was watching Fred taking Elle’s ass. I took a quick look at her. Oh shit, that girl was humping the table like there was no tomorrow with a look of intense concentration on her face. Jeb grabbed his cock and slapped me in the face a few times to get my attention before jamming it back into my mouth as Elle looked on. He had a good hold of my hair and started face fucking me again.
“This bitch’s leather cheerio is tight and hot. This butt pirate is going to bury his treasure where the sun doesn’t shine after digging deep into this slut’s dookie hole. Gonna blow,” announced Fred, as he unloaded his baby batter deep in Elle’s colon. I heard her moan in disappointment like a total slut as he held his cock in place while he filled her ass with his seed.
“My turn, get out of the way,” cried an impatient George. I heard a loud grunt from Elle signaling that George had started in on her ass.
“This skanky cunt has the best tail this month. Try grabbing those big ol’ nipples and pulling her back by her titties,” laughed Fred.
“Great idea,” replied George, a little out of breath as he pounded away while I heard Elle squeal through her gag. Sounded like George had nipplewoods by her titties really good.
“It looks like the slut is getting off on nipple play. Squeeze them harder. Look at her slave heat go.”
Elle squealed again as Jeb filled my mouth to overflowing with his slimy gift since he did not allow me to swallow. Jed gave me something to remember him by when he rubbed his last squirt under my nose giving me a jismstache. At least that was the name he had for it. Boys could be so immature.
“The harder I squeeze ’em the harder she humps the table. Total slut. Fuck, she’s cumming and so am I,” groaned George.
I could hear Elle’s excited squeals through her gag as the sound of George’s groin slapping Elle’s ass slowed and then came to a stop. Elle always had the reputation for being a kinky bitch and she proved it again just now. Then the little prick Jeb placed the gag back in my mouth, still not allowing me to swallow as a grinning Elle looked on as I blushed in embarrassment. I took a quick look over at Elle one last time and my new sister slave gave me a playful wink in her post orgasmic haze. I returned the wink wondering if we would meet again at the Lone Oak Equestrian Academy.
“Now that was a slavegasm! That slut was grinding herself off on the table as you tapped her tail and mauled her titties. And she still blew a gasket, what a slut. Look at the nasty wet spot on the table. I love my job,” chortled Fred.
“It only took us eleven minutes to fill this slut’s Texas chili bowl full of splooge,” laughed George, as the dynamic duo high fived each other.
“Let’s get her over to the smithy for her badging. We can watch Merle pull her cheeks apart for her branding. As soon as she feels the heat of the badging iron her puckered wagon wheel will start winking and all that splooge will flow out,” chuckled Fred.
“I love it when he freaks out when that happens,” hooted George. He sounded almost giddy with excitement at their pending practical joke. I couldn’t believe grown men could act so juvenile. Laughing, Jeb pulled me to my feet and led me to my next destination.
We arrived in the shipping bay, which was bustling with activity, full of cages stacked on top of each other occupied by handcuffed and gagged women. What happens when you are gagged with a mouthful of cum and are not permitted to swallow is that you drool. And it gets all over you. By the time we arrived at the shipping bay I had drooled a mixture of saliva and cum all down my chin and neck onto my chest which now glistened with the disgusting mixture. The slave handlers all laughed at me when we arrived. One guy even high-fived Jed, much to my chagrin. Jed had me kneel in front of a cage and ordered me to crawl backwards into the cage designed for a medium sized dog and locked me inside. Then he wheeled me over to an area labeled “Pony Express Transport”.
Before leaving Jed squatted down in front of me grinning, “You can swallow now.”
I just glared back at him, not able to reply with a gag in my mouth. It is impossible to swallow everything I learned the hard way as my drooling continued.
“I love my job, getting to fuck with stuck up bitches like you that didn’t give me the time of day when they were free.”
I tried to give him the “I know the best you can do is jack off in your parent’s home hoping your mommy doesn’t interrupt you while dreaming about me” look but gagged and soaked in the saliva and splooge mixture it only made me look more pathetic. I blushed in frustration feeling humiliated all over again. The little asshole knew he had won this encounter as he stood up, grinning like he owned the world and walked away whistling to himself.
This time when I was backed into the cage there were no tears, no wallowing in self-pity. There was however plenty of time to think about Claire and that kiss. I hadn’t kissed her back. I wasn’t a lesbian! Oh God, why hadn’t I kissed her back? The deepest part of me didn’t like the simple explanation, and it wanted to know. Why had my heart raced when she kissed me like never before, holding me close for those fleeting moments? Even now, in this cage my lips still tingled with her energy. She had kissed me like that, why? Why had it felt so damned good? She was a lesbian and I was straight. Or was I? Did she know something that I didn’t? Oh, I wish I had kissed her back!
Most of my adult life had been spent dating Calum and I thought I was in love. I always felt safe in his arms but it was somehow different, better when Claire held me. Her closeness had a palpable energy like a black hole, pulling me towards her that I had never felt with anyone else. There was a profound sense of loss when she let go of me. The only time I remember being discombobulated like I was around Claire was when my cheer squad shared the showers in the gym with girls from the basketball or soccer team. These strong athletic women just had an unnerving effect on me that I had never thought about until now. Men never did. Daddy would probably disown me if I came out as a lesbian. I was on the brink of losing him over my enslavement and it scared me. His love and respect were very important to me. Ever since mom passed away I strived to be the apple of his eye and now had failed in spectacular fashion. Crashing and burning was a more apt description. How could I regain his trust?
In some ways I felt freer now than at any point in my life with the shackles of society’s expectations removed now that I was a naked slave girl. I had been reborn when the branding burned the big D badge into my ass forever marking me as a slave. I was no longer the sexually repressed “good girl” striving to live up to my father’s expectations. Claire had tricked me with the placebo horny juice, setting free the inner slut that I, like many women before me, had spent a lifetime repressing deep within their public personas. Now she had encouraged me to embrace my new found sexuality as I moved into the next stage of my life. Was I up to the challenge? There were so many unanswered questions concerning who I was and what I really wanted out of life. Foremost was my sexuality, my sexual orientation, could I actually be a lesbian or possibly bisexual? Was my attraction towards Claire due to my sudden enslavement and dependence on her coupled with my sexual awakening?
The one thing that I did know was that I no longer loved Calum, if I ever had truly loved him, and there was someone else out there for me. I just knew it. Could it be Claire? Only time would tell. She did say that “we” would get through this together, not that she would help me get through this. Did that imply that there was an “us” to look forward to?
Claire had warned me that Lone Oak Equestrian Academy where I was destined to spend the next five to six months of my life was an obedience school on steroids with a truly evil twist. They were the best in the nation at transforming a formerly free woman into an obedient sex starved ponygirl who exists solely to please her master (or mistress). These slaves regressed to a blissful childlike innocence where they see their slavery as natural, losing their personal identity, their sense of self, no longer possessing personal dreams and goals. Instead they feel safest happily existing within the parameters of the routine daily existence of their slavery as defined by their benevolent masters.
Lone Oak achieves this goal by reducing the slave’s capacity for logical thought through the complete immersion into the ponygirl lifestyle twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, for the duration of their time at the school. With the slave collars they take away the slave’s ability to communicate, limiting them to horse sounds, reducing their capacity to think and entertain themselves and each other. Some slaves never utter a word for the duration of their stay. There are no TVs, computers or reading materials to stimulate their intellect. They lose the use of their hands during training. When not in armbinders the slaves are kept handcuffed with their arms behind their backs. For the first few weeks to a month new slaves lose the use of their arms altogether, becoming totally dependent on their trainers for all bodily functions, bathing, and even eating. To prevent atrophy, the arms are freed for twice daily slave yoga.
The slave has no choice but to concentrate on being a good ponygirl during the training since it is the only activity that breaks the monotony of her existence. Socialization consists of free time outdoors in a pasture with the other ponygirls where they can run and play like ponies. Visitors will come to the fence offering flavored sugar cubes. The ponygirls that have completely succumbed to slave mind happily trot over to the fence to eat the sugar cube out of the palm of the nice free person’s hand. All the while basking in the attention these masters give them when being petted and told they are good little ponies. After months of living like this these slaves even begin to pick up the mannerisms of horses.
A well trained dressage ponygirl instinctively, without conscious thought, complies with the trainers’ commands, either verbal, with the whip or the tug of a chain attached to their nipples or labia, when performing. They enter a mental zone where only they and their trainer are present, where their minds solely exist to transmit their trainer’s command to their bodies for action. It is a trance-like state that slaves could easily become lost in as they assume their ponygirl persona in the artificial environment created by Lone Oak. According to Claire I needed to develop the ability to transition into and out of this trance-like state in order to survive with my mind intact. Over ninety percent of the slaves sent to Lone Oak graduated with a serious case of slave mind which was the goal of the program. After all, most masters wanted a happy and obedient ponygirl that lived to meet all of their master’s needs.
The only gratification the slaves were given throughout their stay was sexual in nature. All the ponygirls received regular shots of a legal combination of estrogen, progesterone, and other chemicals commonly referred to as horny juice. These shots ominously spiked their sexual arousal, reinforcing this emphasis on achieving orgasmic release. Sexual intimacy is the most deeply personal act a woman can perform and Lone Oak uses it to not only break the slave’s resistance, but also as the basis for their rewards and punishment system. In short they made the ponygirls hypersexual creating an excessive preoccupation with sexual fantasies, urges and behaviors using sexual pleasure as a tool to control the slaves. The only other training available to the ponygirls to break the monotony of their new lives consisted of sex skills instruction which reinforced the hypersexual orientation of these slaves. Sexual pleasure in the form of climaxes rewarded good behavior while prolonged edging and orgasm denial punished poor performance. Trainers used finger vibes to quickly reward a good pony or edge a bad pony. Whipping was available to punish bad behavior but was rarely needed due to the success of the sexualization programing.
In short they were going to turn me into a brainless drugged sex addict to control my behavior while teaching me the skills to perform as a dressage ponygirl in a program designed to give me slave mind. All I had to do was graduate without coming down with this disorder. Claire explained that after the first month an owner could place their slave in a training regimen that was not designed to induce slave mind although roughly half of those slaves still came down with some aspects of the mental disorder. I really hoped I would be moved into this training option. This program appealed mostly to FINO slaves who were wives or girlfriends of men who did not want to completely lose them to slave mind.
Prior to my enslavement I was working as an accountant in Daddy’s firm working towards becoming a CPA. Claire advised me to mentally work through accounting and math problems each evening and morning to keep my mind sharp in an attempt to prevent the onset of slave mind. She also advised that she would attempt to visit me to spend some quality time with me to break up the monotony. Her definition of quality time had my dirty mind running wild with the possibilities. I was already really looking forward to that first visit, my pussy throbbing at the prospects of what could be.
Claire further promised me that if I was able to successfully graduate while avoiding coming down with slave mind, I could be considered for one of the elite consort programs in the state. She pointed out that the attorney, Sharon Price, was a happy Broadstone graduate with a husband that she loved and children that they adored. There were a lot of things that I had learned about Amelia Bradford since her unfortunate incarceration in the Houston jail. Claire added to that list, explaining that Amelia was a Broadstone graduate, had sponsored Sharon Price and a number of other slaves through the program and helped match her with her current husband. If I was lucky Amelia would help get me into that program and do the same for me. The other option was to be sold at auction as a dressage ponygirl for four years which terrified me, especially if I succumbed to slave mind. After the last two days spent with Claire I was not so certain that a husband was what I needed. I decided that if given the chance in the future I would kiss Claire back to try and sort out my feelings for her to determine if there was a future for us.
My life was only going to get harder starting with ponygirl training at Lone Oak. I dreaded what was to come while promising myself that I would strive to make Claire proud of me in every aspect of my upcoming training. Since I had the courage and will power to lay myself onto the branding bench it dawned on me that I could also get through this ordeal while trying to make the best of my situation. What would it really be like going through the highly sexualized training at Lone Oak I wondered? If I am going to be forced to have lots of sex, I might as well try and enjoy it. My pussy throbbed as I thought about the possibilities. God, I’m a horny slave now. Approaching my future with the mindset that this newly freed slut would make Claire proud just felt right. Why did I so want to make her proud of me?
My transit was almost over after the driver dropped off the other slaves in the van. I was the last delivery. By the time the Pony Express van arrived at Lone Oak the jismstache and drool had dried on my body. The chastity belt actually felt good, during the trip I tried to manipulate it by grabbing the strap with my hands and pulling on it while wishing it could vibrate. I had become such a horny slave in such a short time. Needless to say I had a damp kitty when we arrived at Lone Oak. I wondered if the driver could smell my arousal in the front of the van.
The driver unloaded my cage and wheeled me into a large stable with people and ponygirls moving about. Trainer Raul Estes walked up and took custody of me from the driver, signing the bill of lading and having me stand. First Estes removed the shipping collar, replacing it with one of Lone Oak’s. Then the cuffs were replaced while he just took out my gag. Then he unsealed my chastity belt and pulled it out, handing it to the driver who held up my chastity belt with my vaginal fluids coating the prong.
“This slut is really slave stupid. They’re always the ones that get aroused during transport. Just look at the juices she left on this thing. She was probably trying to cum by jiggling it. I could smell her stink during the drive over here as she wiggled in her cage.”
“That’s just potential dripping out of her slave snatch. This pleasure slut looks like she has what it takes to make a good ponygirl. Even if she is a little old to be starting her training now.”
Old! I was only twenty-three years old, in the prime of life. Typical man, the first thing they do is check your tits and pussy for potential. I was in shape, with a well-toned body. I’ll show him. I almost said something but bit my tongue. Hopefully I was learning. The grinning driver wheeled away my cage leaving me in front of Trainer Estes in the middle of the stable bustling with activity.
“Knees.”
Quickly I moved to the kneeling position with my knees splayed apart making my glistening pussy visible while I sat up straight, jutting my breasts out like a well-trained slave. Once again slave yoga saved the day.
“You are at the Lone Oak Equestrian Academy in Flower Mound, Texas. You have been enrolled at the Lone Oak for training as a dressage ponygirl. During the time you are here, you will be treated as a slave. I am required by law to tell you that the slave collar you were just fitted with can deliver a powerful and extremely painful electric shock if you attempt to leave this property without permission. The pony tails we use can also emit a debilitating shock and a less painful shock used for punishment. Both the collar and the tail are fitted with GPS devices while tracking your sexual activity. The tail also acts as a large vibrator with different settings. Additionally, all Lone Oak employees are authorized to use any means deemed necessary to compel you to comply with all orders given to you, and those means include electrical shock and whipping. If you follow my instructions, you will not be hurt. Do you understand?" announced Trainer Estes.
“Whinny…whinny?”
I tried answering yes while nodding my head and all that came out was horse sounds. I looked up in confusion at Estes and he just grinned down at me. It dawned on me that I was now lower than a regular slave who could communicate like a human. I was now an animal, relegated to a whinny, nodding, shaking my head or stomping a hoof. For some reason this further degradation sent a tingle to my pussy getting it wetter yet.
Laughing down at me while reviewing my file on his iPad Estes continued, “The collars also have a devoicing setting eliminating your ability to speak. Rumor has it you are a mouthy slave so the setting will stay on.”
What was in my file I wondered? Then he unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock. Already! I figured I would at least get to pee and be fed a late lunch before any sexual escapades. How wrong I was.
“I have some time to kill until Gumdrop arrives in a few minutes. I’ll be in-processing the two of you together as a pair. Mouth.”
Upon hearing the universal command to suck dick I scooched forward on my knees with my hands still cuffed behind my back. Taking his hardening shaft in my mouth while looking up at him with a seductive look, I began to lick and suck his cock. He was looking at the iPad ignoring me although his penis was paying attention, quickly growing hard into a substantial piece of meat. Soon he was gently moving his hips nonchalantly thrusting his cock into my mouth, using me as a self-cleaning human fleshlight. It felt like he was testing the waters to see how I would respond. All the while people and ponygirls moved about minding their business like nothing unusual was going on. I just focused on sucking his dick as I blushed in embarrassment. Then it hit me. Gumdrop! Could it be Elle?
Looking down at me he grinned. “So how did you get the name Starfish?”
With his cock testing my gag reflex he clearly wasn’t expecting an answer. I looked up at him with my most coquettish, innocent look thinking, “If you only knew,” as my pussy throbbed in anticipation.
The End
At some future time, I may circle back after I finish Allison’s story and cover the many adventures of Starfish and Gumdrop. I hope you enjoyed reading the detour as much as I had writing it.
So there I was strapped down on the exam chair, legs secured in the stirrups, arms cuffed above my head. While the cute male veterinarian was prying open my very moist vagina with a speculum to examine my cervix, Claire sauntered in like she owned the place. She was still wearing her skirt suit from court, with a VIP guest pass hanging around her neck and a pair of cowboy boots that she had traded in her three inch heels for. Damn, she pulled off the cowboy boots and skirt combo well. Claire winked at me and looked over the vet’s shoulder feigning interest as he shined a light into my vagina. The vet finished and gave me a clean bill of health and we were off to my next stop. I was hoping it was shipping while dreading the alternative as Claire led me by my leash, gagged with my hands cuffed behind my back with a handler trailing along.
“Daph, you really do have a pretty kitty, never really had a good look until you were spread out in that exam chair. Gonna make it purr real nice when we visit Merle for your badging.”
When I was a girl, Daddy and I took Angus, our black lab, to the vet to get neutered. He was all happy, tail wagging, head sticking out the window on the ride over to the vet. Angus bounded out of the car in the parking lot on his leash ready for a new adventure and took about five steps before he realized where he was. It was full stop pulling on the leash trying desperately to get back into the car. We were walking down a hallway in the maze that was the Big D and my brain heard badging, the nickname for branding and I went full stop just like poor Angus. I pulled on the leash while letting out a whine through the gag, shaking my head no as I started to cry. Claire turned around holding me in place with one hand on the leash. That girl was strong.
“Yes, you are getting branded and it is going to hurt like hell. There is a right way and a wrong way to get branded. Trust me on this. I know, I have four and Merle did three of mine.”
I had seen girls branded! Maribelle convinced me it was a good idea that all incoming pledges get the Big D badge. I went along with it, I mean, it wasn’t ME getting my ass fried. Now it was my turn and I had so hoped to avoid this, especially when it was not mentioned at all yesterday. Claire just stood there staring at me with those blue eyes that captivated my soul. It was like she was hypnotizing me with her will as she cupped my face with her other hand.
“Merle may be a total redneck but he is a master at badging a girl. There is something about being strapped down in the branding bench that just makes me want to suck the blacksmith’s cock. And I am pretty much a lesbian. I volunteered to slave tip him after the first time and asked for him by name for the other two, slave tipping him each time.”
Claire volunteered to give a guy a blow job! This couldn’t be Claire, the six-foot-tall strong Amazon lesbian who always seemed to look down at men with disdain. In another life she would have been a Valkyrie. For her a man was something she stepped on, squashed, that got scraped off the sole of her shoe, like a cockroach, bubble gum or dog shit. There I was looking at her in shocked disbelief. I mean, I was so stunned I even stopped crying.
Claire confidently stared at me. “You are going to walk into that blacksmith shop, lay yourself down on a branding bench, offer Merle a slave tip and give him the best blow job ever if he accepts. We will take care of you in there. You will make me proud in front of my friend, his colleagues and every other slave girl getting badged. You understand what’s expected of you in there?”
I looked at her with big eyes and just nodded my head in utter disbelief. Claire pulled me towards her and leaned down, kissing me on the forehead and again making everything all right. Somehow absorbing my doubts and infusing me with resilience with a single kiss. The skin on my forehead where her lips touched me hummed with an electrical charge. What kind of strange hold did this woman have over me? I nodded my head when she pulled me on the leash and we were off. Before I knew it she led me into the blacksmith’s shop where I was confronted with hot air and the stench of burning flesh and urine. My forehead still tingled with the energy from her kiss. Surprising myself I marched right up to the first vacant branding bench and lay upon it like I owned the place. Before I knew it I was securely strapped down with my ass up in the air. Although I froze in terror when the girl next to me screamed through her bite gag as the Big D badge was burned into her ass I did not lose my resolve.
A thundering voice yelled across the shop, “Claire Kincaid! I’ll be damned. You’re the last person I expected to see in here today.”
The source of the voice was Merle Atkins, a big man in his forties, about 6’5” with a dad body, a few days’ growth on his chin and a big dip under his lip. He wore wranglers with a Copenhagen circle worn into the back pocket, cowboy boots, a sweaty Big D t-shirt and a John Deer cap propped on his head. Merle strode over picking up Claire in a big bear hug before putting her down. Then he spits a disgusting glob of tobacco juice on the ground right in front of me. Aunt Claire was on a first name basis with a blacksmith at the Big D slave market. Never saw that one coming.
“What brings you into my shop with this nice piece of slave tail with the drippy slave snatch?”
“This is my niece, Daphne, and she is here to get the Big D badge burned between the cheeks on the left side. This morning she became a slave as part of a civil judgment. She has something to ask you.”
Claire removed my gag and I looked up at Merle. I shuddered as another girl shrieked through her gag as a blacksmith left their mark. Soon that would be me. I wasn’t sure I could speak coherently.
“Mr. Adkins…um…can I…um…slave tip you sir…ah…before you…brand me, please?”
Merle grinned down at me adjusting the branding bench to get my head up to the right height. Since I really couldn’t move my head or use my hands I figured I would have to use a lot of tongue while getting face fucked. The thought of getting face-fucked right now, strapped to a branding bench at the Big D, was weirdly appealing as my pussy throbbed in anticipation. Even with my kinky thoughts I was really concerned that Merle’s cock would be more than I could handle. I mean he was a big guy but when he pulled it out it was normal size and I had no problem accommodating him. Soon he was pumping away in my mouth as I massaged his shaft with my tongue trying my best to get him off.
Claire had a point. This was one of my more enthusiastic blow jobs with the atmosphere spiking my slave heat with my drippy slave snatch. That is what Merle called it after all. Claire started harvesting my fluids, capturing them on her fingers and moistening my rosebud. Then she lightly rubbed my wet starburst, sensuously massaging my sphincter on the outside sending jolts to my clit and nipples. I actually tried pushing back on her thumb seeking penetration all to no avail as I moaned happily on the cock in my mouth.
All the while Merle and Claire were taking a trip down memory lane for my benefit like when he made her hump the branding iron handle before getting her first badge. That climax was momentous for Claire, convincing her that it made the whole process better. So much so that she hunted him down afterwards, slave tipping him with a blow job in the parking lot. After that she called ahead for each subsequent brand to make sure Merle was available. Then there was the Olympic circles badging where Claire brought in the girls from the bronze medal ponygirl team. Merle was still impressed with those women even today. Most Olympic athletes get the circles tattooed, but not these girls. Real ponygirls get brands, not tattoos. Then he invited Claire to speak at one of his slave psychology classes at SMU over the summer. Yes, Merle the redneck was a professor of psychology at SMU who put himself through school working as a blacksmith at the Big D. Didn’t see that one coming either. Currently he was an advisor at the Big D who moonlighted in the smithy, loving his work. Then his hips started giving him away as his thrusts became more urgent and he unloaded in my mouth. Claire told me to swallow and I did, not missing a drop this time as I worked to perfect a new skill.
Merle put his junk away while Claire positioned a worn bite gag in my mouth, securing both it and the fresh taste of semen in place. Grabbing a branding iron out of the coals Merle squatted down in front of me so that we were at eye level with each other. He held the iron with the branding head between us. I could feel the heat emanating from the bright orange head bearing the Big D logo on my face. Merle blew on the glowing head causing the coloration to fluctuate. I was captivated, marveling in the beauty of the glowing iron. It almost seemed alive. Merle sensed my awe.
“Look at the magnificence of the hot branding head, the different shades of hot orange as I blow on it, it is alive. Badging a girl is an art form. It is not just pushing down and counting to ten. Creating the perfect brand is a combination of the right heat, dwell time holding the iron in place, rocking the head to ensure uniformity and the force used to push the iron into the flesh. The question is do you want the perfect brand?”
I nodded my head with glazed eyes hypnotized by the glowing iron before them. Merle grinned and spat on the branding head causing it to sizzle as my eyes bulged open bringing me out of my trance. What was I getting myself into? My nipples were as hard as diamonds and me pussy throbbing in need strapped down helplessly on this bench engulfed in the heat, sounds and smells of the smithy. My inner slut had definitely broken free as my pussy drooled.
“Most slave girls fear the brand, fight it, and fail to respect it. Badging finalizes their fall into slavery driving home the inevitability of their new lives and thus leading to acceptance. You respected the badge when you came into my shop having already recognized the finality of your enslavement. I can see it in your eyes now, respect and lust. Your Aunt Claire embraced her badging, respecting the art of a hot iron stamp, making love to the branding iron. It is a truly transformative experience. Most slave girls remember the intensity of their first slavegasm rolling in the sand on the auction block and the pain of badging. Only a small few get to make love to the branding iron, experiencing the inferno-like passion of climaxing during the badging process. Every detail gets permanently etched in their memory. They are the lucky ones.”
With that Merle stood up, moving into position behind me loosening the strap around my waist giving me some freedom of movement. I could still feel the warmth from the heated iron behind me. He had a real way with the branding iron handle rubbing, massaging my labia with the smooth wooden handle working his way to my clitty. It was like he knew my body better than I did as I moaned in pleasure. In no time at all he had me panting in need as I felt a massive orgasm starting to build up from deep within me.
Merle had me on the edge rubbing my distended nubbin with the handle. He pulled it away and rammed it home followed by quick, deep strokes in my birth canal. I was humping back for all I was worth like the needy little slut I had become. Somehow each stroke caught me just right and I was getting close to a very explosive climax. There was something oddly erotic about humping the handle of the branding iron that was about to burn a badge into your ass while enveloped in the smells and sounds of the smithy. Yesterday I had learned to associate pain with sexual pleasure to the point I sought the pain to enhance my pleasure. The excruciating cry of another girl in pain triggered a response in my subconscious initiating my explosion and I blew a gasket all over the handle drenching it with my fluids as I rode out a most exquisite climax.
The handle was gently pulled out as I gasped in disappointment through the bite gag, not wanting it to end, needing more, so ready for more, much more. I wanted another. For some strange reason I was reminded of that scene from Oliver Twist where he asks, “Please, sir, I want some more.” My plea was granted. Claire’s fingers quickly replaced the handle, I recognized her touch, sending a jolt of excitement through me. Merle strode over to the forge pushing the head of the branding iron deep into the glowing coals. It was the only one with pussy juice glistening on the handle. My juices started steaming in the heat of the forge.
“The iron will be the right temperature when the handle has dried,” grinned Merle as he proceeded to tighten the strap around my waist followed by rubbing an oddly cold antiseptic wipe on the inside of my left buttock.
Dazed, I stared at the steaming branding iron, watching the head heat up as I remained in a strange sexual fog as Claire fingered my pussy.
“Hold it. You will cum when he pulls the branding iron from the coals. When you can see the white hot iron come to life as it is pulled from the flames.”
Merle gently ran his fingers through my hair, “Embrace the pain and let it ignite your new life as a slave, rise like a phoenix from the ashes embracing your slavery.”
I moaned in frustration trying not to cum. Claire’s fingers were doing a magic dance in my pussy finding my G spot and rubbing distended clitoris. I tried humping her fingers but could no longer move. Another blacksmith pulled a branding iron from the flames and strode away. I could not see where he went but another girl cried out in pain almost pushing me over the precipit into another frenzy as I watched the steam come off the handle of my brand. My branding iron. Mine. I held my climax in, waiting for permission. The agony, the anticipation of the wait was getting to me as Claire diddled my pussy.
Then the steam stopped. The handle was dry and Merle strode over to the forge yanking my branding iron from the flames, wiping pieces of coal off the glowing head. It was alive! It’s beauty dancing before my eyes.
“Now, cum for me now!” And I did, spectacularly, the beauty of the glowing badge captivating me as I gazed upon it. Claire increased the intensity of her ministrations in my pussy with a dual pronged approach massaging my G spot and rubbing my happy button. I exploded! Claire quickly removed her fingers and I felt my cheeks pulled apart and the heat emanating off the branding head as I shuddered in orgasmic bliss.
The searing heat initiated pain screamed through every cell in my body unlike anything I had ever felt before. It felt like the burning head was pressed into my sensitive flesh for days while in reality I knew it was only seconds. I felt the breath knocked out of my lungs and heard a shrill moan escape my lips through the bite stick as I tried to chew through it. I felt tears flowing down my cheeks as I peed into the grate below, as my vision blurred.
I had blacked out! In a haze I sensed a tender throbbing, no a thrusting sensation, in my pussy. Then I felt a cool ointment being spread on my injury dampening the pain, followed by the application of an aerosol bandage. All the while the gentle throbbing in my pussy intensified. The strap around my waist was loosened, freeing me somewhat. There was a presence in my vagina and it felt good, really good. As I came to I was gently humping back, god it felt good. Claire squatted down in front of me removing my gag, wiping my hair out of my eyes. She smiled at me as I stared into those blue eyes. The presence in my pussy popped out as I moaned in disappointment. I recognized the feel of the branding iron handle rubbing between my labia and on my clit. Furiously I humped the handle, desperate for release.
Claire smirked, “That’s it. Make love to the branding iron. You got this.”
Moaning in delight I humped that handle like there was no tomorrow. God this felt soooo good. Merle pulled it away, plunging it back into my pussy, fucking me with the handle. I fucked it back, hard! Furiously thrusting back into each thrust needing release like a woman possessed, pushing myself into a blissful female nirvana. There I was in the middle of the smithy surrounded by scared slave girls getting badged while my ass throbbed in pain. I screamed in ecstasy as only a pleasure slut can, freed of the restraints that constrain a free woman. See me now! A slave! A pleasure slut! I exploded, convulsing all over the handle as Merle slowed the thrusts as he smoothly massaged my throbbing sex as I rode out the rollercoaster of my frenzy until I collapsed on the branding bench gasping for breath. My need sated as Merle gently removed the branding iron from my pussy, putting it back into the forge with my juices glistening from the handle for the next slave girl’s badging.
I stared at the steam coming off the handle of my branding iron as Merle released the straps holding me in place. Merle helped me to my feet as I tried to get my wits about me. While I regained my bearings he proudly pointed out the framed autographed copy of the Sports Illustrated cover with Claire in full USA team ponygirl tack absent the helmet hanging on the wall. She was standing proudly with the gold medal from the London games hanging around her neck. Right next to it was a picture of the Olympic badge burned into Claire right where a tramp stamp would go. Claire had autographed that one too.
Claire led me out of the smithy where there was a holding cage with a bunch of just branded girls with shocked expressions on their tear stained faces. Most of them were coated in sand from the auction blocks. I figured that was where I was headed until Claire grabbed a bottle of water from the table next to the cage and led me into an interview room, closing the door and leaving the slave handler in the hallway. She gave me some water and I drank greedily not realizing how thirsty I was. Then she pulled out a roll of wintergreen Lifesavers and popped two in my mouth. I swear she thinks of everything as I sucked on their minty freshness.
While I enjoyed the Lifesavers she pulled a pronged chastity belt out of her purse along with some lube. After lubing the prongs, she bent me over to insert them.
“Good job in there. You made me really proud. Next is getting you out of here and off to Lone Oak. If you can drape yourself onto a branding bench here, Lone Oak will be a piece of cake. Trust me, you got this.”
Claire stood me up and sealed the chastity belt in place. With a gentle touch she swiped some hair out of my face, capturing me once again with those magnetic blue eyes. I could drown in those eyes a happy girl. Claire leaned down to kiss me. Almost in a trance I rose up on my toes turning my head, my eyes fluttering closed as she pressed her lips to mine. Every nerve in my body sprang to life, my skin humming with joy. Her mouth was soft as she pressed her lips to mine. I squealed in surprise as my lips were frozen in paradise.
Paradise only lasted a moment before she pulled away, leaving me stunned and shaking, feeling a sudden sense of loss. As I stood there on wobbly legs she held me in her strong arms. Leaning my head against her chest I felt loved and cared for like never before. God, I was in heaven, safe in her strong arms never wanting her to let me go.
“We will get through this together. I will check on you at Lone Oak when I can get away.” I was speechless, completely discombobulated in her arms, only able to nod my head in thanks. She kissed me on the forehead one last time making everything all right once again. When she let me go I fell from heaven and into hell when she turned me over to a teenaged slave handler (he had to be at least 18 to work here) named Jed who promptly gagged me and led me away. I had a chance to quickly look over my shoulder back at Claire. There she stood in her skirt suit and cowboy boots, hands on her hips, looking after me. God, she looked hot sending another tingle through my body. Claire blew me a kiss and I stumbled, catching myself focusing on keeping up with the handler as he pulled me around the corner out of sight.
Down the hallway I saw two wranglers pull a naked slave girl that looked like Elle Woods into a room across from a pee grate in the hallway. Jed stopped me at the pee grate allowing me to relieve myself. I snuck a quick look into the room, spying Elle bent over the table facing me. The wranglers were doing rock, paper, scissors for some prize, likely first dibs on her body.
Jed noticed where I was looking and laughed, “Fred and George are legends around here for their double anal bangs during their fifteen minute breaks. They are doing that skank a favor showing her what her new life as a slut will be like. Now squat and pee slave cunt.”
I could hear George and Fred’s colorful dialogue as I lowered myself over the grate. George was a large blonde-haired man with a crew cut and acne scarred face, forty something with a dad body. Fred was the shorter, stocky bald black man in his mid-thirties whose rock crushed George’s scissors meaning he got to go first. I could see Elle grimacing through her gag as Fred lubed her asshole while he talked to her.
“Slut, your ass and my big cock are a match made in slave heaven. I have your wet slave snatch right over the corner of the table so you can grind off on it while I tap your dirtbox. Relax, try to enjoy it and it will go easier for you. Don’t matter to me if you cum or try to gnaw through that gag. You have no choice now as a slave but to take it in your winking wagon wheel,” Fred sneered.
It was a messy experience peeing through a chastity belt that I never want to repeat again all the while watching Elle. Fred grabbed a handful of Elle’s curly blonde hair, pulling her head back while thrusting his hips forward driving his cock into her ass in one forceful thrust. Her eyes bugged out of their sockets as the gag muffled a loud groan. Then she composed herself and started grinding her pussy on the corner of the table. “You go girl,” I thought. Jed believed in the “drip dry” method, leaving me squatting over the grate to dry instead of wiping me down so it looked like I would be here for a while.
Since we had time to kill while I “dried” and the Fred and George show was arousing Jed, my pimply-faced eighteen-year-old removed my gag and ordered, “mouth.” While sucking him off I learned that Jeb had just started his shift after his days off and had a three-day load for me. This meant he wouldn’t last long, thank God. With his cock in my mouth and my nose in his pubic hair I couldn’t watch the action in the other room but I could hear what was happening.
George was rooting Fred on, “Pound that slut’s backdoor. Show her whose boss. Looks like she is trying to grind one off, total slut in slave heat.”
“Yeah she is, I can feel it. I love it when they cum while I am banging them in the poop chute.”
Jeb decided to prolong his blowjob by pulling his cock from my mouth and rubbing it all over my face while leaking pre-cum. I looked up and he was watching Fred taking Elle’s ass. I took a quick look at her. Oh shit, that girl was humping the table like there was no tomorrow with a look of intense concentration on her face. Jeb grabbed his cock and slapped me in the face a few times to get my attention before jamming it back into my mouth as Elle looked on. He had a good hold of my hair and started face fucking me again.
“This bitch’s leather cheerio is tight and hot. This butt pirate is going to bury his treasure where the sun doesn’t shine after digging deep into this slut’s dookie hole. Gonna blow,” announced Fred, as he unloaded his baby batter deep in Elle’s colon. I heard her moan in disappointment like a total slut as he held his cock in place while he filled her ass with his seed.
“My turn, get out of the way,” cried an impatient George. I heard a loud grunt from Elle signaling that George had started in on her ass.
“This skanky cunt has the best tail this month. Try grabbing those big ol’ nipples and pulling her back by her titties,” laughed Fred.
“Great idea,” replied George, a little out of breath as he pounded away while I heard Elle squeal through her gag. Sounded like George had nipplewoods by her titties really good.
“It looks like the slut is getting off on nipple play. Squeeze them harder. Look at her slave heat go.”
Elle squealed again as Jeb filled my mouth to overflowing with his slimy gift since he did not allow me to swallow. Jed gave me something to remember him by when he rubbed his last squirt under my nose giving me a jismstache. At least that was the name he had for it. Boys could be so immature.
“The harder I squeeze ’em the harder she humps the table. Total slut. Fuck, she’s cumming and so am I,” groaned George.
I could hear Elle’s excited squeals through her gag as the sound of George’s groin slapping Elle’s ass slowed and then came to a stop. Elle always had the reputation for being a kinky bitch and she proved it again just now. Then the little prick Jeb placed the gag back in my mouth, still not allowing me to swallow as a grinning Elle looked on as I blushed in embarrassment. I took a quick look over at Elle one last time and my new sister slave gave me a playful wink in her post orgasmic haze. I returned the wink wondering if we would meet again at the Lone Oak Equestrian Academy.
“Now that was a slavegasm! That slut was grinding herself off on the table as you tapped her tail and mauled her titties. And she still blew a gasket, what a slut. Look at the nasty wet spot on the table. I love my job,” chortled Fred.
“It only took us eleven minutes to fill this slut’s Texas chili bowl full of splooge,” laughed George, as the dynamic duo high fived each other.
“Let’s get her over to the smithy for her badging. We can watch Merle pull her cheeks apart for her branding. As soon as she feels the heat of the badging iron her puckered wagon wheel will start winking and all that splooge will flow out,” chuckled Fred.
“I love it when he freaks out when that happens,” hooted George. He sounded almost giddy with excitement at their pending practical joke. I couldn’t believe grown men could act so juvenile. Laughing, Jeb pulled me to my feet and led me to my next destination.
We arrived in the shipping bay, which was bustling with activity, full of cages stacked on top of each other occupied by handcuffed and gagged women. What happens when you are gagged with a mouthful of cum and are not permitted to swallow is that you drool. And it gets all over you. By the time we arrived at the shipping bay I had drooled a mixture of saliva and cum all down my chin and neck onto my chest which now glistened with the disgusting mixture. The slave handlers all laughed at me when we arrived. One guy even high-fived Jed, much to my chagrin. Jed had me kneel in front of a cage and ordered me to crawl backwards into the cage designed for a medium sized dog and locked me inside. Then he wheeled me over to an area labeled “Pony Express Transport”.
Before leaving Jed squatted down in front of me grinning, “You can swallow now.”
I just glared back at him, not able to reply with a gag in my mouth. It is impossible to swallow everything I learned the hard way as my drooling continued.
“I love my job, getting to fuck with stuck up bitches like you that didn’t give me the time of day when they were free.”
I tried to give him the “I know the best you can do is jack off in your parent’s home hoping your mommy doesn’t interrupt you while dreaming about me” look but gagged and soaked in the saliva and splooge mixture it only made me look more pathetic. I blushed in frustration feeling humiliated all over again. The little asshole knew he had won this encounter as he stood up, grinning like he owned the world and walked away whistling to himself.
This time when I was backed into the cage there were no tears, no wallowing in self-pity. There was however plenty of time to think about Claire and that kiss. I hadn’t kissed her back. I wasn’t a lesbian! Oh God, why hadn’t I kissed her back? The deepest part of me didn’t like the simple explanation, and it wanted to know. Why had my heart raced when she kissed me like never before, holding me close for those fleeting moments? Even now, in this cage my lips still tingled with her energy. She had kissed me like that, why? Why had it felt so damned good? She was a lesbian and I was straight. Or was I? Did she know something that I didn’t? Oh, I wish I had kissed her back!
Most of my adult life had been spent dating Calum and I thought I was in love. I always felt safe in his arms but it was somehow different, better when Claire held me. Her closeness had a palpable energy like a black hole, pulling me towards her that I had never felt with anyone else. There was a profound sense of loss when she let go of me. The only time I remember being discombobulated like I was around Claire was when my cheer squad shared the showers in the gym with girls from the basketball or soccer team. These strong athletic women just had an unnerving effect on me that I had never thought about until now. Men never did. Daddy would probably disown me if I came out as a lesbian. I was on the brink of losing him over my enslavement and it scared me. His love and respect were very important to me. Ever since mom passed away I strived to be the apple of his eye and now had failed in spectacular fashion. Crashing and burning was a more apt description. How could I regain his trust?
In some ways I felt freer now than at any point in my life with the shackles of society’s expectations removed now that I was a naked slave girl. I had been reborn when the branding burned the big D badge into my ass forever marking me as a slave. I was no longer the sexually repressed “good girl” striving to live up to my father’s expectations. Claire had tricked me with the placebo horny juice, setting free the inner slut that I, like many women before me, had spent a lifetime repressing deep within their public personas. Now she had encouraged me to embrace my new found sexuality as I moved into the next stage of my life. Was I up to the challenge? There were so many unanswered questions concerning who I was and what I really wanted out of life. Foremost was my sexuality, my sexual orientation, could I actually be a lesbian or possibly bisexual? Was my attraction towards Claire due to my sudden enslavement and dependence on her coupled with my sexual awakening?
The one thing that I did know was that I no longer loved Calum, if I ever had truly loved him, and there was someone else out there for me. I just knew it. Could it be Claire? Only time would tell. She did say that “we” would get through this together, not that she would help me get through this. Did that imply that there was an “us” to look forward to?
Claire had warned me that Lone Oak Equestrian Academy where I was destined to spend the next five to six months of my life was an obedience school on steroids with a truly evil twist. They were the best in the nation at transforming a formerly free woman into an obedient sex starved ponygirl who exists solely to please her master (or mistress). These slaves regressed to a blissful childlike innocence where they see their slavery as natural, losing their personal identity, their sense of self, no longer possessing personal dreams and goals. Instead they feel safest happily existing within the parameters of the routine daily existence of their slavery as defined by their benevolent masters.
Lone Oak achieves this goal by reducing the slave’s capacity for logical thought through the complete immersion into the ponygirl lifestyle twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, for the duration of their time at the school. With the slave collars they take away the slave’s ability to communicate, limiting them to horse sounds, reducing their capacity to think and entertain themselves and each other. Some slaves never utter a word for the duration of their stay. There are no TVs, computers or reading materials to stimulate their intellect. They lose the use of their hands during training. When not in armbinders the slaves are kept handcuffed with their arms behind their backs. For the first few weeks to a month new slaves lose the use of their arms altogether, becoming totally dependent on their trainers for all bodily functions, bathing, and even eating. To prevent atrophy, the arms are freed for twice daily slave yoga.
The slave has no choice but to concentrate on being a good ponygirl during the training since it is the only activity that breaks the monotony of her existence. Socialization consists of free time outdoors in a pasture with the other ponygirls where they can run and play like ponies. Visitors will come to the fence offering flavored sugar cubes. The ponygirls that have completely succumbed to slave mind happily trot over to the fence to eat the sugar cube out of the palm of the nice free person’s hand. All the while basking in the attention these masters give them when being petted and told they are good little ponies. After months of living like this these slaves even begin to pick up the mannerisms of horses.
A well trained dressage ponygirl instinctively, without conscious thought, complies with the trainers’ commands, either verbal, with the whip or the tug of a chain attached to their nipples or labia, when performing. They enter a mental zone where only they and their trainer are present, where their minds solely exist to transmit their trainer’s command to their bodies for action. It is a trance-like state that slaves could easily become lost in as they assume their ponygirl persona in the artificial environment created by Lone Oak. According to Claire I needed to develop the ability to transition into and out of this trance-like state in order to survive with my mind intact. Over ninety percent of the slaves sent to Lone Oak graduated with a serious case of slave mind which was the goal of the program. After all, most masters wanted a happy and obedient ponygirl that lived to meet all of their master’s needs.
The only gratification the slaves were given throughout their stay was sexual in nature. All the ponygirls received regular shots of a legal combination of estrogen, progesterone, and other chemicals commonly referred to as horny juice. These shots ominously spiked their sexual arousal, reinforcing this emphasis on achieving orgasmic release. Sexual intimacy is the most deeply personal act a woman can perform and Lone Oak uses it to not only break the slave’s resistance, but also as the basis for their rewards and punishment system. In short they made the ponygirls hypersexual creating an excessive preoccupation with sexual fantasies, urges and behaviors using sexual pleasure as a tool to control the slaves. The only other training available to the ponygirls to break the monotony of their new lives consisted of sex skills instruction which reinforced the hypersexual orientation of these slaves. Sexual pleasure in the form of climaxes rewarded good behavior while prolonged edging and orgasm denial punished poor performance. Trainers used finger vibes to quickly reward a good pony or edge a bad pony. Whipping was available to punish bad behavior but was rarely needed due to the success of the sexualization programing.
In short they were going to turn me into a brainless drugged sex addict to control my behavior while teaching me the skills to perform as a dressage ponygirl in a program designed to give me slave mind. All I had to do was graduate without coming down with this disorder. Claire explained that after the first month an owner could place their slave in a training regimen that was not designed to induce slave mind although roughly half of those slaves still came down with some aspects of the mental disorder. I really hoped I would be moved into this training option. This program appealed mostly to FINO slaves who were wives or girlfriends of men who did not want to completely lose them to slave mind.
Prior to my enslavement I was working as an accountant in Daddy’s firm working towards becoming a CPA. Claire advised me to mentally work through accounting and math problems each evening and morning to keep my mind sharp in an attempt to prevent the onset of slave mind. She also advised that she would attempt to visit me to spend some quality time with me to break up the monotony. Her definition of quality time had my dirty mind running wild with the possibilities. I was already really looking forward to that first visit, my pussy throbbing at the prospects of what could be.
Claire further promised me that if I was able to successfully graduate while avoiding coming down with slave mind, I could be considered for one of the elite consort programs in the state. She pointed out that the attorney, Sharon Price, was a happy Broadstone graduate with a husband that she loved and children that they adored. There were a lot of things that I had learned about Amelia Bradford since her unfortunate incarceration in the Houston jail. Claire added to that list, explaining that Amelia was a Broadstone graduate, had sponsored Sharon Price and a number of other slaves through the program and helped match her with her current husband. If I was lucky Amelia would help get me into that program and do the same for me. The other option was to be sold at auction as a dressage ponygirl for four years which terrified me, especially if I succumbed to slave mind. After the last two days spent with Claire I was not so certain that a husband was what I needed. I decided that if given the chance in the future I would kiss Claire back to try and sort out my feelings for her to determine if there was a future for us.
My life was only going to get harder starting with ponygirl training at Lone Oak. I dreaded what was to come while promising myself that I would strive to make Claire proud of me in every aspect of my upcoming training. Since I had the courage and will power to lay myself onto the branding bench it dawned on me that I could also get through this ordeal while trying to make the best of my situation. What would it really be like going through the highly sexualized training at Lone Oak I wondered? If I am going to be forced to have lots of sex, I might as well try and enjoy it. My pussy throbbed as I thought about the possibilities. God, I’m a horny slave now. Approaching my future with the mindset that this newly freed slut would make Claire proud just felt right. Why did I so want to make her proud of me?
My transit was almost over after the driver dropped off the other slaves in the van. I was the last delivery. By the time the Pony Express van arrived at Lone Oak the jismstache and drool had dried on my body. The chastity belt actually felt good, during the trip I tried to manipulate it by grabbing the strap with my hands and pulling on it while wishing it could vibrate. I had become such a horny slave in such a short time. Needless to say I had a damp kitty when we arrived at Lone Oak. I wondered if the driver could smell my arousal in the front of the van.
The driver unloaded my cage and wheeled me into a large stable with people and ponygirls moving about. Trainer Raul Estes walked up and took custody of me from the driver, signing the bill of lading and having me stand. First Estes removed the shipping collar, replacing it with one of Lone Oak’s. Then the cuffs were replaced while he just took out my gag. Then he unsealed my chastity belt and pulled it out, handing it to the driver who held up my chastity belt with my vaginal fluids coating the prong.
“This slut is really slave stupid. They’re always the ones that get aroused during transport. Just look at the juices she left on this thing. She was probably trying to cum by jiggling it. I could smell her stink during the drive over here as she wiggled in her cage.”
“That’s just potential dripping out of her slave snatch. This pleasure slut looks like she has what it takes to make a good ponygirl. Even if she is a little old to be starting her training now.”
Old! I was only twenty-three years old, in the prime of life. Typical man, the first thing they do is check your tits and pussy for potential. I was in shape, with a well-toned body. I’ll show him. I almost said something but bit my tongue. Hopefully I was learning. The grinning driver wheeled away my cage leaving me in front of Trainer Estes in the middle of the stable bustling with activity.
“Knees.”
Quickly I moved to the kneeling position with my knees splayed apart making my glistening pussy visible while I sat up straight, jutting my breasts out like a well-trained slave. Once again slave yoga saved the day.
“You are at the Lone Oak Equestrian Academy in Flower Mound, Texas. You have been enrolled at the Lone Oak for training as a dressage ponygirl. During the time you are here, you will be treated as a slave. I am required by law to tell you that the slave collar you were just fitted with can deliver a powerful and extremely painful electric shock if you attempt to leave this property without permission. The pony tails we use can also emit a debilitating shock and a less painful shock used for punishment. Both the collar and the tail are fitted with GPS devices while tracking your sexual activity. The tail also acts as a large vibrator with different settings. Additionally, all Lone Oak employees are authorized to use any means deemed necessary to compel you to comply with all orders given to you, and those means include electrical shock and whipping. If you follow my instructions, you will not be hurt. Do you understand?" announced Trainer Estes.
“Whinny…whinny?”
I tried answering yes while nodding my head and all that came out was horse sounds. I looked up in confusion at Estes and he just grinned down at me. It dawned on me that I was now lower than a regular slave who could communicate like a human. I was now an animal, relegated to a whinny, nodding, shaking my head or stomping a hoof. For some reason this further degradation sent a tingle to my pussy getting it wetter yet.
Laughing down at me while reviewing my file on his iPad Estes continued, “The collars also have a devoicing setting eliminating your ability to speak. Rumor has it you are a mouthy slave so the setting will stay on.”
What was in my file I wondered? Then he unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock. Already! I figured I would at least get to pee and be fed a late lunch before any sexual escapades. How wrong I was.
“I have some time to kill until Gumdrop arrives in a few minutes. I’ll be in-processing the two of you together as a pair. Mouth.”
Upon hearing the universal command to suck dick I scooched forward on my knees with my hands still cuffed behind my back. Taking his hardening shaft in my mouth while looking up at him with a seductive look, I began to lick and suck his cock. He was looking at the iPad ignoring me although his penis was paying attention, quickly growing hard into a substantial piece of meat. Soon he was gently moving his hips nonchalantly thrusting his cock into my mouth, using me as a self-cleaning human fleshlight. It felt like he was testing the waters to see how I would respond. All the while people and ponygirls moved about minding their business like nothing unusual was going on. I just focused on sucking his dick as I blushed in embarrassment. Then it hit me. Gumdrop! Could it be Elle?
Looking down at me he grinned. “So how did you get the name Starfish?”
With his cock testing my gag reflex he clearly wasn’t expecting an answer. I looked up at him with my most coquettish, innocent look thinking, “If you only knew,” as my pussy throbbed in anticipation.
The End
At some future time, I may circle back after I finish Allison’s story and cover the many adventures of Starfish and Gumdrop. I hope you enjoyed reading the detour as much as I had writing it.
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Re: Daphne's Downfall Ch. 2
I tried to take a different approach to the branding in this story. I am curious if readers think it is an improvement?
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Re: Daphne's Downfall Ch. 2
Great job on the branding scene! I liked that he was a teacher/prof instead of a caveman!
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Darrenwhipsthesluts
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Re: Daphne's Downfall Ch. 2
To answer the question did I enjoy the branding scene - hell yes, that was hot as hell and a first as far as tying it to orgasm and a rare type of slavegasm at that! This is a first- at least, as far as I can recall- where the pleasure of it is willingly embraced. Too bad Annie doesn’t do the same over at Any Chance! Hmmm, maybe she does! Lol.
Great work, mr Smith! A wonderful brief series.
Great work, mr Smith! A wonderful brief series.
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ZeeChromosome
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Re: Daphne's Downfall Ch. 2
"In my hands was a pair of light pink boyshort undies with a luscious lace trim and a flower detail on the front. The problem with light colored panties like this is that when you leak it leaves a very visible dark stain. Elle’s panties had a large wet spot in the crotch"
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Somebody riffed on my work. I feel honored.
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I especially enjoyed the "pussy wedgie" part. What a naughty pleasure slut!
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I so enjoyed Elle/Gumdrop's comeuppance and downfall. That was superbly done, especially the part where she stumbles back into the courtroom all disheveled-like with one stocking falling down. I had evil chuckles the whole time.
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"We were walking down a hallway in the maze that was the Big D and my brain heard badging, the nickname for branding and I went full stop just like poor Angus. I pulled on the leash while letting out a whine through the gag, shaking my head no as I started to cry."
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Muhahha! I loved this part, especially when she compares herself to poor Angus getting snipped.
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On a side note, my daughter works at a doggie day care. She's surrounded by 50 dogs all day long. Then I pick her up from work and she tells me all about her day, who was a good boy, who wasn't, etc. So one day she sends me a picture of a dog and captioned it "Titan the Doberman got neutered and is no longer an asshole!" I laughed so hard. Then half an hour later l get a new picture of Titan in the time-out cage... "Never mind."
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"The source of the voice was Merle Atkins, a big man in his forties, about 6’5” with a dad body, a few days’ growth on his chin and a big dip under his lip. "
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That's... actually a fairly accurate depiction of me right now. I dunno how to feel about that, lol. Maybe I should shave.
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Regarding your question about the branding, I found I didn't really enjoy it. I think it was extremely well done. It's just that I like pretty girls and don't want them to be hurt, so I was unable to really get into the eroticism of the branding scene. Spanking is about as hard-core as I can go. Sorry about that, it's me, not you. My ponies are all getting branded, too, I just can't get an erotic thrill out of it.
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On the other hand, I really did enjoy Daphne's subsequent self-reflection during transport and the discussion of Lone Oak's insidious intentional infliction of slave-mind in its subjects/victims/inmates/students. Not sure of the right word here.
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I like the details you put in there and - and maybe I'm being arrogant here - but I like to feel that our email discussion of this subject was helpful for both of us. In my Stallion story, I have Mistress Harriette doing the exact opposite from Lone Oak. She is intentionally doing everything she can to allow her pleasure ponies to have the opportunity to avoid falling permanently into the slave-mind abyss. That's because she relies primarily on fresh-out-of-high-school self-indentures to stock her herd and she needs successful "graduates" to serve as references to convince skeptical teenagers (and their parents) to sign her contracts. It's a business decision.
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On the other hand, if one of Mistress Harriette's ponies succumbs to slave-mind, she is more than willing to profit from it.
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I found your explanation very useful because it emphasizes just how much control a slaver has over her slaves. By controlling her slaves' environment unto the nth degree for months on end, a smart slaver can turn most of them into almost anything. I think you portrayed that very well.
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So I like how you delineated exactly what is at stake for Daphne and what her primary challenge will be going forward. It ramps up the dramatic tension quite nicely. It reminds me of the various stories I've read about real-world war prisoners trying to maintain their emotional resistance in the face of relentless psychological conditioning intended to break them down. I have seen several times - again, this is real-world stuff - where prisoners used a sort of Morse-code finger-tapping method of communication which was undetectable by their captors in order to communicate with and support one another. Perhaps you could utilize that.
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Zee!
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Somebody riffed on my work. I feel honored.
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I especially enjoyed the "pussy wedgie" part. What a naughty pleasure slut!
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I so enjoyed Elle/Gumdrop's comeuppance and downfall. That was superbly done, especially the part where she stumbles back into the courtroom all disheveled-like with one stocking falling down. I had evil chuckles the whole time.
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"We were walking down a hallway in the maze that was the Big D and my brain heard badging, the nickname for branding and I went full stop just like poor Angus. I pulled on the leash while letting out a whine through the gag, shaking my head no as I started to cry."
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Muhahha! I loved this part, especially when she compares herself to poor Angus getting snipped.
-
On a side note, my daughter works at a doggie day care. She's surrounded by 50 dogs all day long. Then I pick her up from work and she tells me all about her day, who was a good boy, who wasn't, etc. So one day she sends me a picture of a dog and captioned it "Titan the Doberman got neutered and is no longer an asshole!" I laughed so hard. Then half an hour later l get a new picture of Titan in the time-out cage... "Never mind."
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"The source of the voice was Merle Atkins, a big man in his forties, about 6’5” with a dad body, a few days’ growth on his chin and a big dip under his lip. "
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That's... actually a fairly accurate depiction of me right now. I dunno how to feel about that, lol. Maybe I should shave.
-
Regarding your question about the branding, I found I didn't really enjoy it. I think it was extremely well done. It's just that I like pretty girls and don't want them to be hurt, so I was unable to really get into the eroticism of the branding scene. Spanking is about as hard-core as I can go. Sorry about that, it's me, not you. My ponies are all getting branded, too, I just can't get an erotic thrill out of it.
-
On the other hand, I really did enjoy Daphne's subsequent self-reflection during transport and the discussion of Lone Oak's insidious intentional infliction of slave-mind in its subjects/victims/inmates/students. Not sure of the right word here.
-
I like the details you put in there and - and maybe I'm being arrogant here - but I like to feel that our email discussion of this subject was helpful for both of us. In my Stallion story, I have Mistress Harriette doing the exact opposite from Lone Oak. She is intentionally doing everything she can to allow her pleasure ponies to have the opportunity to avoid falling permanently into the slave-mind abyss. That's because she relies primarily on fresh-out-of-high-school self-indentures to stock her herd and she needs successful "graduates" to serve as references to convince skeptical teenagers (and their parents) to sign her contracts. It's a business decision.
-
On the other hand, if one of Mistress Harriette's ponies succumbs to slave-mind, she is more than willing to profit from it.
-
I found your explanation very useful because it emphasizes just how much control a slaver has over her slaves. By controlling her slaves' environment unto the nth degree for months on end, a smart slaver can turn most of them into almost anything. I think you portrayed that very well.
-
So I like how you delineated exactly what is at stake for Daphne and what her primary challenge will be going forward. It ramps up the dramatic tension quite nicely. It reminds me of the various stories I've read about real-world war prisoners trying to maintain their emotional resistance in the face of relentless psychological conditioning intended to break them down. I have seen several times - again, this is real-world stuff - where prisoners used a sort of Morse-code finger-tapping method of communication which was undetectable by their captors in order to communicate with and support one another. Perhaps you could utilize that.
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Zee!
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Re: Daphne's Downfall Ch. 2
Zee wrote,
Inresponse to one of my comments Gentlemanmariner wrote that "sexual intimacy is the most deeply personal act a woman can perform" it resonated with me as I tried to develop the slave mind mental disorder. The goal of the slaver is to have an obedient slave and once a woman will perform a sex act upon order is there really anything that she will not do? My goal for the training program at Lone Oak is to make the graduate not only willingly without hesitation to happily perform all requested sex acts while also learning to enjoy said sex acts while also wanting to please her master. Once the ponygirl is broken she needs to also be trained to perform the sex act well. She not only wants to suck her master's cock but she must also be an exceptional fellatrix. The Lone Oak dressage ponygirl graduates are not only exceptional ponygirls with a good case of slave mind but also schooled in the sexual arts at the level of a Pearson's, Venus or Broadstone graduate. For the stories I figure it wll take about six months of constant training to achieve these training goals. The end product is a very valuable commodity cherished by the wealthy that can afford them. Lone Oak is not a place you send your daughter or wife for the full training regimine.I really did enjoy Daphne's subsequent self-reflection during transport and the discussion of Lone Oak's insidious intentional infliction of slave-mind in its subjects/victims/inmates/students.
Last edited by Mr. Smith on Mon Sep 13, 2021 1:43 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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ZeeChromosome
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Re: Daphne's Downfall Ch. 2
Smith, gonna roll this one around in my head for a bit.
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When you say "once a woman will perform a sex act upon order is there really anything that she will not do? "
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My first response is that, yes, she will do everything in her power to manipulate you and control you and will perform whatever evil and unethical act necessary to make it so. Just my initial reaction to it. Gonna give it some more thought.
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I'm a heretical unbeliever in the whore-with-a-heart-of-gold trope. If she's a whore then she's a whore. If she will perform any immoral sex act on command, then she will perform any immoral NON-sexual act in order to achieve her goals.
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Like I said, gonna give it some more thought. Just throwing my cynicism at you and seeing if it sticks.
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Zee
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When you say "once a woman will perform a sex act upon order is there really anything that she will not do? "
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My first response is that, yes, she will do everything in her power to manipulate you and control you and will perform whatever evil and unethical act necessary to make it so. Just my initial reaction to it. Gonna give it some more thought.
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I'm a heretical unbeliever in the whore-with-a-heart-of-gold trope. If she's a whore then she's a whore. If she will perform any immoral sex act on command, then she will perform any immoral NON-sexual act in order to achieve her goals.
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Like I said, gonna give it some more thought. Just throwing my cynicism at you and seeing if it sticks.
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Zee
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Re: Daphne's Downfall Ch. 2
@ Zee
Read the part about slave mind in part 7 of Went West. I think GM does a great job talking about how a strong willed woman such as Frankie is succumbing to it. The regimine at Lone Oak is much more intense and effective than a run of the mill HCI obedience school and not just because they cannot speak with the horse sound collar function.
I would proffer that a full blown case of slave mind will greatly reduce the ability of the ponygirl (former free woman) to manipulate her master. Now she may do things like wiggle her ass or jiggle her tits to get her master's attention but that is just another symptom of slave mind wanting to please her master or get her master to pay attention to her over another ponygirl. She will be dissapointed if her master gives he hard cock to anther ponygirl in the herd. These girls are in a permenant slave haze that has become their lives. Most will never fully recover after the six month course and four years of slavery.
Read the part about slave mind in part 7 of Went West. I think GM does a great job talking about how a strong willed woman such as Frankie is succumbing to it. The regimine at Lone Oak is much more intense and effective than a run of the mill HCI obedience school and not just because they cannot speak with the horse sound collar function.
I would proffer that a full blown case of slave mind will greatly reduce the ability of the ponygirl (former free woman) to manipulate her master. Now she may do things like wiggle her ass or jiggle her tits to get her master's attention but that is just another symptom of slave mind wanting to please her master or get her master to pay attention to her over another ponygirl. She will be dissapointed if her master gives he hard cock to anther ponygirl in the herd. These girls are in a permenant slave haze that has become their lives. Most will never fully recover after the six month course and four years of slavery.
- These users thanked the author Mr. Smith for the post (total 3):
- Carl Bradford • jeepster • ZeeChromosome