The Stallion - Bachelorette Party Part 2

[ZeeChromosome]

As promised.

Thank you so much for the positive responses to my previous posts and a double thanks to Carl and Smith for their edits.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Dramatis Personae:
- The HH Golden Hammer, slave, racing pony stallion, former Human name Hank Sterkel
- Thanh, slave, Hammer's groom
- Perseverance ("Persa"), slave, racing pony filly, Ukrainian, former Human name Yevgeniya
- Sasha, slave, Perseverance's groom, also Ukrainian (Harriette's husband got a good price on a container-load while doing business in Crimea).
- Strongheart, slave, racing pony stallion, former Human name Deshonte Williams
- Lucy, slave, Strongheart's groom
- Meadowlark & Sparrow, pony girl slaves, Thanh's assistant deputy torturers
- Mistress Harriette Valdez, slave owner, owner of the HH Pony Ranch
- Caleb MacDougal, Harriette's favorite cowboy thug/henchman, looks like Wyatt Earp only tougher
- The Bride, Clarissa Bellefleur
- The Maid of Honor, Chantelle DuPonte
- Four Bridesmaids, one of whom is Guinevere (Gwen) Bellefleur
- Ten Assistant Evil Pony Deputy Torturers

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Gwen sank back down onto her stallion's chest gasping for breath as she felt a seemingly unending stream of semen being pumped into her fertile womb. Her thighs quivered with exertion. Her convulsing vagina burned with temporarily sated lust. She laid her head on one of his sweating pectorals and listened to the drumbeat of the Golden Hammer's heart as they recovered their breath together.

After a few moments, she raised herself back up and shook her hair out into a veil on either side of her head while gazing down at his smiling face. Then, taking care to ensure that the veil of her hair hid their faces from any potential onlookers, she kissed him again. Whereas before her kisses had been primarily lustful, these kisses were different. Concealed from prying eyes, granting the stallion that most rare and precious of gifts for a slave - privacy - she kissed him gently and lovingly. "That was wonderful," she whispered, "Thank you for that gift, I will treasure it always."

On his part, Hammer was also storing up a memory to treasure. Gazing into the extraordinary blue-gray eyes of this girl through her lace mask while breathing the jasmine scent of her perfume would become a treasured memory of his for years to come. Although there were many things about being a pony stallion that he hadn't known, the one that had hurt him the most was the loneliness. Six days a week, he lived the life of a silent warrior monk. Other people spoke to him, but he was unable to speak to them in return. Ever-cheerful Thanh was his rock. She chattered happily to him as she cared for him and conducted his training under the watchful eyes of the Ranch's head trainer. But he couldn't communicate with her with anything more than facial expressions and body language. He was very expressive in those ways, but he still couldn't communicate thoughts and ideas and hear a response in return. In the evenings, in the solitude of his stall (a comfortable cell, really), he could talk, but there was no one to talk to. Mistress Harriette made sure that her ponies were kept occupied with free remote-learning classes, so he wasn't bored. But he still had no one to talk to, nobody to discuss his day with. He was lonely, and the intimate emotional connection that he was feeling in this moment poured directly into the yawning void in his heart.

While the two lovers were locked in their bound embrace, oblivious to their surroundings, Thanh was gazing in satisfaction as the Hammer's smoothly-shaven balls contracted rhythmically, pumping the bridesmaid full of his fertile seed. Some pony ranchers liked to keep their stallions as hairy as possible in order to emphasize their animal nature. Mistress Harriette preferred to keep her stallions clean-shaven, and the excess semen pouring out of the girl's stretched vaginal opening dripped down Hammer's cock and ran down his smooth skin following the striations of his muscular thighs.

Sheriff Harriette approached Thanh and showed her part two of her instructions. Thanh read the page, frowned, and looked back up at her Mistress for confirmation. Harriette nodded, stating, "That's why Conquistador isn't here, he might not follow instructions and I don't want any mistakes." Like most pony ranches in the state of Texas, the HH Ranch strove for ethnic diversity in its pony herds, especially for performance ponies. It was a conscious effort on the part of the Pony Ranchers Association to present modern slavery as an equal opportunity institution. So Harriette's three stallions were normally White, Black and Other. Hammer, with his sun bleached mane and golden tan, was her White stallion. Her Black stallion, Strongheart, was currently ravishing (or being ravished by, it was hard to tell) the Maid of Honor. Conquistador, Harriette's third stallion, hadn't been invited to this event. He was spending a lonely and celibate night in his stall. Bad behavior has consequences. Although a certain amount of high-spirited rowdiness was expected from racing stallions, they had to know when to turn it off and not push things too far. Strongheart and Hammer could (theoretically) be trusted with this next phase of the orgy.

After nodding that she understood, Thanh sent Meadowlark to retrieve the bridesmaid's shoes. Meadowlark ran over to her things and made a disappointed frown as she looked down at her looted "possessions". The lovely high-heeled pumps were sitting side-by-side on top of her piece of folded lavender cloth. The hair sticks and sparkly tiara were arranged neatly in front of them. She sighed and thought, "I guess it was too much to hope that nobody would notice if these shoes went missing." But the hair sticks and the tiara looked inexpensive, so maybe they would be forgotten. She quickly picked up the shoes and gave one to Sparrow while Thanh unlocked Hammer's ankle cuffs. When Thanh didn't put them into a different configuration like a hobble-rope, Sparrow and Meadowlark looked at each other in surprise. They hadn't seen Harriette's notes, so they didn't know what was happening. What they did know is that stallions were never taken out of restraints unless they were safely locked inside their stalls alone. It wasn't safe.

They looked around for reassurance and saw Mistress Harriette watching them. She nodded that it was all right, but the situation still made them uneasy. Slaves don't like unexpected events, as it usually means bad things for the slave. They could also see that Strongheart, still locked in a fiery embrace with the Maid of Honor, was also having his ankle bindings removed. Over by the door, two of the male slave wranglers were now lounging casually against the wall with stun batons at their hips. It shouldn't be necessary, but Harriette Valdez doesn't take chances. The two slave girls didn't know precisely what was about to happen, but it appeared that a pair of very powerful and sexually super-charged stallions were about to be set loose in the ballroom filled with naked vaginas and it made the two girls very nervous. Although it was unlikely that either of them would be attacked, both of them put together barely weighed as much as the smaller stallion, Hammer.

Focused on their passionate embrace, neither Hammer nor Gwen paid much attention to Thanh's activities. But then, at a signal from Harriette, both Thanh and Strongheart's groom Lucy pulled quick-release pins from behind their respective equipping frames. The pin suddenly released the Hammer's collar and wrist cuffs and, now that his ankles were free, left him totally unrestrained in the presence of others for the first time since his enslavement six months ago. It was a heady feeling.

"Sheriff!" shouted Thanh, "the stallions are breaking loose!"

It was so ludicrous that Hammer actually began to chuckle. "Oh no," he thought, "I'm breaking loose!" He hadn't been given any instructions on what to do in this situation, which is normally sufficient cause for an ordinary slave to freeze in place and look around for a free person to take command. But stallions were performance ponies, they were expected to think on their feet and intuit their owner's needs. If he was breaking loose, then he was breaking loose. Fine. On the other hand, there was no reason for him to give up his filly.

Hammer stretched his arms to get the kinks out and then clamped his hands on the exposed bottom of the girl lying on top of his body. Then he began to stand up.

"Ahhh! No no! Don't try to pick me up, I'm heavy, you'll hurt your back!" she cried.
-
He just chuckled some more and stood easily with the still-impaled girl firmly clasped to his chest. Hammer pulled a cart and rider with a combined weight of 140-240 pounds every day, sometimes for hours at a time. Unlike female ponies, whose webbing of leather torso straps bore the weight, racing stallions pulled their carts with their hands. His grip strength and upper body mass easily carried the girl's weight.

This was in spite of her attempts to squirm out of his grasp. She wasn't going anywhere that he didn't want her to. Right now, he wanted her held closely to his chest and impaled on his still-erect cock. One of the effects of penisillin treatments is a reduced refractory period. In Hammer's case, as a physically fit not-quite-nineteen-year-old, that meant that there was effectively no down time between his first orgasm and his next erection. It just stayed hard. Standing at the base of the equipping frame, he began gently bouncing the helpless girl up and down on his shaft. It had been fun while she was controlling the pace and depth of penetration, but now HE was in charge and it was even more fun.

Gaining confidence in feeling that she wasn't going to be dropped and that he wasn't going to be injured, Gwen leaned back and looked down in amazement as he wielded her body like a human fleshlight. She still had her cuffed hands around his collared neck and that, combined with the support of his steel-clamp-like hands on her body kept her comfortably supported as he worked her torso up and down on his cock. She was beginning to pant and moan again when another cry went out.

"We need to get control of these rampaging stallions, lure them over here! Look, an unoccupied breeding bench. No stallion can resist an unoccupied breeding bench!"

"There's my instructions," thought Hammer as he clasped the girl back against his chest, eliciting a grunt from her as he hilted himself yet again. She locked her stockinged legs around his waist as he strode easily to the "irresistible" unoccupied breeding bench. "I guess I better 'rampage' that away."

Realizing that she might not have a chance to speak to him again for some time, Gwen whispered in his ear, "I'm having such a wonderful time Hank, this is even better than I dreamed it would be. Thank you so much." Later, in the solitude of his stall, Hammer would go over these words in his head many times. She had called him by his free name "Hank", not his slave name "Hammer", and she had dreamed of having sex with him. She had thanked him. This wasn't a random pairing, there was something deeper going on here. What it was, he didn't know. But he would figure it out. He was a slave, he had plenty of time to think. Free people had a tendency to ignore the slaves in the room and were consequently more likely to let their secrets slip out.

Two sets of three adjoining breeding benches had been set up on a couple of cobalt blue drop cloths. When he stepped onto the cloth, Hammer could feel the soft cotton slipping a bit beneath his feet and moved carefully to avoid dropping his precious cargo. Perseverance already had the bride pinned face down on the center bench and was attempting to insert the prongs of a double strapon into the girl's rectum and vagina. The bride tried to protest the humiliating treatment, but wasn't strong enough to resist the tall muscular woman's sex toy.

"Gwen!" she said, wiggling her hips to one side to avoid the strapon's curved upper prong, "Help me! She's trying to put it in my butt!"

Hammer popped his passenger off of his cock and put her down on her feet, then turned her to face the irresistibly-unoccupied breeding bench. "Her name is 'Gwen', " he thought, "It's a nice name, I like it." Just before he turned her body away from him, though, he saw Gwen's eyes widen in alarm at the mention of her name and then flicker in the direction of Sheriff Harriette, who was walking back and forth slapping her bullwhip against one leather clad thigh, supervising the movement of the rustlers from the torture racks to the breeding benches.

"Apparently names were not to be used here," Hammer thought, "curiouser and curiouser."

Just before he bent her over, Gwen leaned over and hissed in the pinioned bride's ear, "You should have asked for 'no anal sex' like I did, silly. You know Harriette wasn't going to waste an opportunity to sodomize us otherwise!"

"I didn't think..." the Bride began to respond, "Ahh!"

Hammer saw the bulbous tip of Perseverance's sex toy pop into her browneye. The anal probe curved downward and had a number of round bulbs on it, growing larger as they got closer to the base. The racing pony held it there, allowing her victim's rectal muscles to relax and adapt, then pushed in one more bulb, eliciting another moan from the helpless bride in the shredded wedding dress. The girl finally stopped struggling, gasped and hung her head, surrendering to the slave's domination of both of her lower holes.

With a gleeful smile on her face, Perseverance began feeding the rest of the probe into the free woman's ass one bulb at a time. As a racing pony, she was exempt from performing regular sexual services, but she was always "rewarded" for winning races by being bound to a breeding bench just like this one and fucked by the three highest-bidding fans. She had no say in the matter. Racing fillies were never given the coveted "no homo" or "only homo" contract offers. Nobody cared. Vaginas are for fucking.

But now she was the one with a free woman pinned to her breeding bench, wearing a tool of domination. She was the one fucking a powerless girl this time and she reveled in her new role. Maybe Mistress Harriette would let her do it again sometime if she did a really good job. Either way, she was determined to force the bride to enjoy every second of her humiliation and subjugation.

Working efficiently, Thanh and her assistant torture deputies fastened their own rustler to the breeding bench. It was a four-legged piece of furniture with a padded leather shelf that went under the bound girl's hips and waist, leaving her breasts to hang freely. Her wrists were secured to the front legs of the bench and her stockinged ankles were secured in the rear. Meadowlark and Sparrow made sure to take advantage of the helpless girl by running their hands up and down her thighs while they did this. The bridesmaid's exposed breasts dangled nicely from the pulled-apart cleavage of her ruined dress. They also put her high-heeled pumps back on and adjusted the hip pad just right for Hammer's convenience. Both pony girls had been bound to identical benches many times in order to be used by the Ranch's guests, so they knew exactly what they were doing in order to make this free girl as comfortable (and helpless) as possible. It was a fun power reversal for them and they exchanged knowing glances with Perseverance as they finalized the bindings.

Unlike the two ponies tying her down, Gwen had never been bound to a breeding bench in her life. It was a scary new experience for her, losing control over her own body. But it was also a sexually thrilling experience, because she knew that it was being done for the benefit of her chosen stallion, she had a safe word, and because Harriette was watching and would intervene if anything truly untoward happened. The fact that none of the slave girls surrounding her had any of those protections never crossed her mind. She was a child of the wealthy and powerful slave-owning class. She had spent her entire life in a cocoon of protection and privilege and the travails of those girls who did not have those protections just didn't occur to her. She wasn't a callous person who delighted in the suffering of others - far from it - but she truly had had no life experiences that would give her any insight into the brutal realities of modern slavery or what it felt like for a girl who was trapped within it.

Now securely bound, Gwen whipped her hair to one side, glanced back over her shoulder, and gave her stallion a smoldering look. She even wiggled her hips to ensure that he knew exactly how much she wanted it.

Hammer smiled. Like the girl whose name he now knew was "Gwen", he was having a new experience as well. Normally when a stallion was breeding a free woman, the stallion has only a very limited range of motion. His hoof-boots are hobbled, forcing short steps and preventing kicking. His hands are attached to a wide leather belt and only given a very limited range of movement so that he can somewhat control the hips of the woman bound on the bench in front of him. But today he was entirely unbound. His bare feet and ankles were bound to nothing. His arms had a full range of motion.

Hammer looked over at Strongheart, who was just setting his partner down. She was a very tall woman with a coffee-colored complexion who had wrapped her arms and legs around the slightly shorter and darker stallion's powerful torso. He had to gently pry her loose. Both of them were laughing, obviously enjoying the process. Each time Strongheart unwrapped a limb and reached for another one, she just wrapped him back up in her embrace. Finally Harriette dispatched a pair of ranch hands to extricate her stallion so that the girl could be tied to a bench. This was swiftly accomplished and the three adjacent breeding benches were now decorated with bent-over free women in partially cut-away dresses facing in opposite directions with the bride's head between the rumps of the girls bound on either side of her.

Inspecting his prize, Hammer could see that her legs were perfectly poised for a pornographic photo shoot. She was a reasonably tall girl, about 5'8" he thought, based on when he had put her down onto her stockinged feet. But now, with her high-heeled pumps back on her feet, and folded horizontally at the waist, her long shapely legs were perfectly displayed for his viewing pleasure. At the top, the lace stocking tops revealed creamy thighs, leading his happy eyes up to her perfectly shaped and pleasingly-upturned bottom. Between her raised butt cheeks, her clean-shaven (or plucked) anal star and semen-oozing vagina were on brazen display. He smiled at the thought. This girl had probably never in her life been forced to display herself like that. He caught the eyes of the assistant torture deputies and saw that they were probably thinking the same thing. One of the most frightening things for a recently-enslaved woman is for her privates to be exposed to the view of anyone nearby. And here the two slave girls were being given the opportunity to - no, they had been ordered to - do the same thing to a free woman. Not just any random free woman, but one who, based on her familiarity with the bride and Mistress Harriette, was almost certainly a member of society's elite slave-owning caste.

Having finished his inspection and found it good, Hammer placed one commanding hand on the upraised rump and used his other hand to guide his still-erect cock into nudging open Gwen's arousal-swollen labia. He looked over at Strongheart, who had just performed the same process with his girl. Strongheart rumbled out a laugh. Hammer had seen the man hundreds of times over the past few months living and working together in the same stable, but had never heard him laugh. He decided that he liked it and smiled in return.

Strongheart's groom Lucy, a petite and athletic slave girl like all of Harriette's stallion grooms, took charge and raised one hand. "Okay, you two, on "three"... ready?" The two men nodded at her. "One, two..." she slashed her hand down on "two" and both men thrust into their very willing victims, eliciting shrieks of surprised pleasure from the two bound girls. Since both men were VERY well-endowed, neither actually tried to hilt their shafts. Hammer had only gone halfway in. Given the state of the young women's arousal and the fact that both had already been well-fucked once, a man with an average-sized penis could easily have slammed his full length in without harming her.

If Conquistador had been here, he probably would have tried, which is partly why he wasn't here. Conquistador enjoyed overpowering a woman with his penisillin-enhanced cock, so Harriette had to be careful about who she sold his breeding sessions to. This generally limited him to either older women who had previously given birth or to women who had expressed an explicit desire for "having it rough". No such women were in the bridal party. Strongheart and Hammer weren't like that, though. Both of them enjoyed having powerful penisillin-enhanced cocks, but they were also careful not to overdo things.

Because the three free women had been placed on the benches facing in different directions, the bride's head was hanging between the muscular hips of the two stallions as they ravished her best friend and her younger sister on either side of her. When Gwen had proposed the idea for a bachelorette party orgy, Clarissa had been a bit skeptical at first because she knew about her sister's obsession with the handsome stallion. Gwen probably thought it was still a secret, but it's hard to hide things from your own sister, especially if you're indiscreet enough to have a full-sized poster of a particular stallion on the inside of your closet door. Clarissa hadn't been snooping (really!), she was just looking for a pair of shoes that Gwen had borrowed when she found it (honest!).

Clarissa loved both her sister and her best friend, so she enjoyed seeing the two of them deriving such pleasure from the orgy. She just hadn't expected to be seeing it from this angle. Or from so close up. She was thinking that she was definitely going to have words with Harriette later, when... suddenly there was a smiling slave girl crouched in front of her. It was one of her "torturers", the one wearing a vest and able to talk. She had a small electronic device in her hand. It had a blinking green light on it. The annoying slave girl made a dramatic show of pushing the blinking green button and... throughout the orgy so far, Clarissa's torturers and the muscular woman restraining her had teased her endlessly. They kept bringing her to the brink of orgasm with various techniques and then switched to something else. She had been primed to explode for some time now and when the lead torturer pressed that button, all three prongs of Perseverance's strapon - the one in her ass, the one in her vagina, and the especially insidious one caressing her clitoris with its plethora of little rubber nubbins - began to vibrate as one.

After all of the seemingly endless teasing and orgasm denial, she went over the top. This was no peaking climax though, just a sudden plateau, an intense rolling elevated plain. She felt like she was soaring. The intense green eyes of the slave girl in front of her never wavered as her fingers danced on the control device, except to flick periodically to the side to look at the slave behind her who was controlling her rear openings. Wave after wave of incredible sensory overload surged through her, engulfing her, washing over her, drowning her in the most exquisitely pleasurable event of her young life. Gasping, screaming, kicking, thrashing under the physical control of the muscular woman holding her down... it seemed to go on for an eternity, but it was certainly not remotely that long. All good things must come to an end. The human body can sustain only so much.

Panting and gasping for breath, Clarissa hung her head straight down between the muscular thighs of the two stallions ravishing the girls on either side of her. With her head hanging in this position, she could see the spots of darker blue on the tablecloth beneath the other girls where they had dripped body fluids onto the cloth. Curious, she looked between her own legs and was chagrined to see that she had just done the exact same thing. In spades. She thanked all the gods she knew of that this was a private party and nobody was going to be coming in here other than HH Ranch personnel and her own bridal party. And then she raised her head.

Directly in front of her were two girls wearing cobalt blue maternity bridesmaid dresses. "Hi honey," the one on the right exclaimed, "that was really impressive! And LOUD! We heard that Harriette's posse had captured the notorious Runaway Bride and her Bridesmaid Bandits so we came to take a look. Who knew the Runaway Bride was such a screamer... and..." she stared in mock astonishment at Clarissa's mess, "and a CREAMER!"

Clarissa chuckled as best she could whilst bent over, pinned down, and impaled. In front of her friends. Who were all elegantly dressed and at zero risk of sudden impalement. She should have known that Harriette would think of a way to include the four bridesmaids who had opted out of the BDSM portion of party due to their pregnancies. In their social class, it all happened in the same way - go to the right college, join the right clubs, meet the right people, graduate, marry the right man, have babies, send them to the right schools, join the right clubs. She herself had graduated from college six months ago, had been a bridesmaid at a half dozen weddings, and fully expected to be married and pregnant within the week.

While the first fully-dressed bridesmaid was teasing the bride, the second was distracted by the proximity of thrusting stallion glutes. She ran her pointed nails lightly over all four of the perfectly-toned masculine buttocks, murmuring her appreciation. Then she pulled a small electronic device out of her cleavage and pushed a button on it. An old song from their parent's generation started playing. It had a very catchy beat and suggestive lyrics:

"Ooh, baby, baby
Bay-baby, baby
Get up on this

Ah, push it, push it good
Ah, push it, push it real good"

Around the room, the various pony boys and stallions (and Perseverance) looked around, saw what was happening, and... began thrusting in time with the music while the four non-disheveled bridesmaids danced gracefully in their stylish maternity gowns around their pinned and helpless friends who really had no choice in the matter except to enjoy themselves. Harriette wasn't letting them go until she was satisfied that they had had sufficient fun. Harriette is not easily satisfied.

While the bride, her maid of honor and her sister had been bound in opposite directions on their benches, the other three participating bridesmaids had all been bound facing the same direction - directly across from a mirrored wall. Thus the three girls were being treated to not only their own personal slutspressions, but also the slutspressions of the other two girls as three of Harriette's pony boys cheerfully plundered all six of their holes in time to the music. Although none of the non-stallions had had the expensive and dangerous penisillin treatment, their special diet, combined with their youth, ensured that they could all perform for far longer than was strictly reasonable. They used that to good effect. If any of them were unable to do so, there were two other pony boys able to take their place. Harriette covers all of her bases.

During the song, Hammer looked over at Strongheart and noticed him rubbing the right butt cheek of the girl beneath him with his thumb. Hammer looked closer and saw what had gained Strongheart's attention. It was a brand. Unlike Strongheart and Hammer's brands, though, it was not a raised ridge of burnt-into-flesh scar tissue, but rather a blanching of the skin. On Strongheart's girl, the maid of honor, it was clearly visible as a set of white lines in her Café au lait complexion. Hammer looked down at the bound girl beneath him and frowned thoughtfully at seeing the same type of brand on the lightly-tanned skin under his right hand.

Like Strongheart, he thumbed the obvious brand and was confused by the lack of ridged scar tissue beneath his touch. The brand was clearly visible, it just didn't seem to be formed out of scar tissue, just a de-colored design in the skin. It was clearly different from the type of brand he was accustomed to seeing - and experiencing - on his own, personal butt cheek. It was more refined and detailed, for example, besides the obvious fact that it wasn't created by burning flesh. This brand, in fact, was identical to the odd brand that he had noticed earlier on the right butt cheek of his owner, Mistress Harriette Valdez.

Strongheart's girl moaned in satisfaction, "That's right, baby, you're fucking a real DuPonte of the Baton Rouge DuPontes. That's the DuPonte brand right there, no mistaking it," She tossed her long braids aside and turned her head enough to look him in the eye as he continued slowly shafting her. "And I know exactly who you are, Mr. Deshonte Williams. I was at that game when that asswipe cheap-shotted you and caused you to end up here."

Strongheart, pony stallion, formerly Deshonte Williams, stopped what he was doing. It was always a given that he would be recognized, that he would be known. Unlike pleasure ponies, who served and serviced the Ranch's guests in the relative anonymity of the Ranch's property, he was a performance pony who performed in public in front of the roaring crowd. Although always officially referred to by his slave name, his original Human name wasn't hard to discover. And this girl had not only discovered it, she was there on the most painful day of his life when his dreams of football stardom had been shattered along with the rotator cuff of his throwing arm. He had been strong enough and fast enough to change positions to running back, but Mistress Harriette's purchasing agent had offered him $50,000 guaranteed and a percentage of his winnings if he would trade his football cleats for pony boots.

"Don't worry, honey," the girl continued, "I lusted after you then when you were wearing those tight little football pants and I'm lusting you right now. My name is Chantelle DuPonte and I was on the sidelines with the other UT cheerleaders when you went down. Trust me, that turd ball didn't get NO more cheerleader pussy the rest of his time at our school. We were all pissed at him. But you're here with me now and I'm fresh and ready for you. When you're done pulling carts look me up, Daddy wants to meet you."

"Interesting," Strongheart thought, "I wonder what this is all about?" He looked down at his cock, smiled at the sight of the three inches that hadn't gone in yet, and resumed his plundering of Chantelle DuPonte of the Baton Rouge DuPontes, former UT cheerleader, whose daddy wanted to meet him. He had less than a year left in boots, as he was on the national circuit this coming year. It would be nice to have a girlfriend waiting for him. Nobody else had stuck with him except his family. They, of course, just wanted to help him spend his prize money.

Hammer, having discovered Gwen's mysterious family brand (one shared by the woman who owned him), pulled down the dress's ragged skirt to cover it. Free people had secrets, free people had privacy, some things needed to be hidden from prying eyes. He then finished inserting his massive cock to the root into the willing girl and placed his bare feet on either side of her high-heeled pumps. In a normal stallion breeding session, the girl is wearing pony boots and her legs are bound a couple of feet apart for easy access. But not tonight. In this case, the girl's legs were straight up and down, with only a few inches between the ankles. This positioning enabled Hammer to completely entrap her shapely stocking-clad legs with his own heavily-muscled thighs. Even if her arms hadn't been bound to a breeding bench, the combination of his powerful thighs and deeply-penetrating rod would have precluded any escape. She was a free woman with a safe word, he was a pony slave with nothing at all other than his own masculinity. He proceeded to overpower and control her all the same.

Once he had her lower body under firm control, he leaned forward and covered her torso with his own. Now she was truly pinned and pierced. He reveled in the sensation of her dress's soft lavender fabric under his stomach, especially the feel of dividing line between the torn skirt and her exposed sex. Since she had tossed her hair to one side, he took advantage of that to finish the job and smoothed the last few strands of dark wavy hair out of the way so that he could nibble on the soft skin of her exposed neck, alternating with little nips on her earlobe. He wasn't even thrusting any more, just harpooning her as he transferred his erotic attentions from her lower body to her upper body. With his smoothly-calloused fingers, he gently massaged and tweaked her exposed and dangling breasts. He could taste the slightly-bitter flavor of her jasmine-scented perfume where she had dabbed it on the side of her neck earlier that day. He licked it off with the tip of his tongue, reveling in the sensation and the scent as she reacted to the caressing touch on the sensitive skin behind her ear.

Beneath him, Gwen twitched and wriggled beneath Hammer's gentle manipulation of her most sensitive erogenous zones. This evening had truly gone far beyond what she had been expecting. As with all good plans, she had had certain minimum goals that she knew she could accomplish. She had already achieved her main goal, as her fertile womb was right at this moment sloshing with the seed of a physically-perfect exemplar of masculinity.

But she hadn't expected to encounter the sheer force of personality shining through his eyes when they had first joined face to face on the equipping rack. She had always considered the old trope that "the eyes are the windows to the soul" to be corny and romantic nonsense. But then, tonight, it had happened to her. He was in there, this man was in there. He was entrapped in the brutal and dehumanizing system of slavery - a system that she personally benefitted from and approved of - but he was still Human and still in there.

And he did it on purpose, for the right reasons. One of the things that she had discovered during her research was a tribute page set up by a group of his high school classmates. So she knew why he was here - to earn money to protect the family farm - and she respected that. She just hadn't expected the emotional impact of actually meeting him to affect her to such a degree. And now, as he gently nibbled and caressed her body toward her next peak, she felt that same emotion in her heart, and that frightened her. This was not a rutting brute taking his pleasure (like far too many of her previous sexual encounters with free men), this was... against all odds... here of all places... this was a lover.

Judging that she was sufficiently aroused, Hammer leaned back, keeping his right hand on Gwen's bare back and started licking the fingers on his left hand. He looked over at Strongheart and saw agreement there. It was time to drive these two over the edge. With Gwen still transfixed on his rod, he reached between her legs and sought out her engorged clitoris. It was easy to find. It was fully aroused, completely distended and protruding between her wide open labia. He smiled at this and began toying with it as he drove her toward her next climax. It didn't take long and Gwen and Chantelle's shrieks of pleasure formed an interesting symphony as they climaxed together while the two stallions flooded them again with their seed.

As Gwen was coming down from her climax, Hammer quickly glanced around to see who might be watching, then covered her body with his torso again, he nuzzled her ear. He pinched his collar with one powerful hand and rotated it slightly to the left, sliding the electronic sensors on the inside of the collar away from his voice box and covering the speaker with his thumb. Then he whispered in her ear, "Thank you for that, I too will treasure this always." While the surprised girl was still recovering her breath, he quickly slid the collar back into its correct position and stood up while looking very pleased with himself and not guilty of anything at all.

As the song and the unplanned dance party came to an end, Sheriff Harriette regained control. "All right now, enough tomfoolery! It's time to interrogate these criminals."

Harriette and her deputies quickly placed clipboards and pens on top of the bound girls' backs. "I want a full confession!" she declared, "Every pony slut you've ever rustled! Ever hidden cache of gold! I want to know everything. Get started right now!"

None of the pinned and bound and impaled and still-getting-fucked girls made any attempt to write down anything at all. Sheriff Harriette was not pleased with their stubborn refusal to cooperate. On clipboard fell to the ground with a clatter.

“Fine!" Harriette proclaimed, "we'll just have to take dick-tation! You three over there, switch sides!" The three pony boys at the other group quickly switched sides and thrust their cocks into the open mouths of the three bridesmaids. Given the fact that all three ponies had been switching randomly between their cunts and asses, one might have expected the girls to attempt to refuse the penetration. One would be correct. However, Harriette HAD expected that and headed them off at the pass by having each of the three girls fitted with an O-ring gag that forced their mouths open and provided a convenient fuck-hole for anyone (with a normal-sized penis) who wanted one. The girls in the stallions' group of course had no ring-gags. Stallion cocks don’t fit into ring-gags made for ordinary men.

In fact, all three of the ring-gagged bridesmaids protested mightily, with the most coherent response being "Mmpgl-glrk-gluckle-gerk!" Her assigned pony was a bit taken aback by this cogently-argued rebuttal from the Stanford Law graduate and he looked up at Mistress Harriette for guidance. She in turn nodded and smiled back and, thus reassured, he enthusiastically returned to orally sodomizing the free woman with his unsanitized cock. He had been a pony for about 18 months now and the number of times he had been required to submit to ass-to-mouth penetration were... numerous. It was time for payback. Ranch policy included thorough enemas and mint-flavored lube for everyone involved in pony play, so he didn't feel too bad about it. It was far better than his own first few days of slavery, which had included several non-enema and non-flavored-lube rotisserie sessions. Some slave in-processing centers preferred the "destroy their masculine self-identity utterly" method of training new male slaves, especially the pretty ones.

In the center, Harriette deputized the dancing bridesmaids to assist in taking the prisoners' dick-tation. Hammer and Strongheart both had their penises commandeered by eager hands, and their new controllers pulled their cocks out of their dripping vaginal happiness and guided them into the bride's open mouth. At least she was cooperative. The stallions were a bit less cooperative, since they weren't willing to "cross swords". Instead, they chose to take turns thrusting into the bride's open mouth and smearing their enslimed cocks on her face and in her disheveled hair. The pregnant bridesmaids struggled in vain to force them closer together, but no. Freedom may give a woman all the theoretical legal power in the world over an enslaved man, but a 235-lb. man is still a 235-lb. man. Because both of these stallions had a "no-homo" clause in their voluntary indenture contracts, this refusal was perfectly legitimate and legally enforceable. Also, of course, physically enforceable. Because muscles and body mass.

The bride, on the other hand, didn't complain. Partly because she had at least one cock in her mouth at all times and partly because being forced to perform a double blowjob for two well-hung men was one of her secret fantasies.

There were two unoccupied pony boys and both came over to assist with taking dick-tation from Hammer and Strongheart's girls. The one who approached Gwen was a slender redhead about 5'7" tall and he walked up to Gwen and simply thrust his average-sized cock into her mouth while smirking at Hammer. Like the other pony boys, he was having fun being on the upper end of the power curve tonight. But not high enough. Hammer pulled away from the bridesmaid holding his cock, walked around the benches and, in a classic bully move, he stiff-armed the smaller man in the chest, knocking him down. Strongheart had apparently had the same idea at the same time and the two smaller ponies ended up sprawled across one another.

Alarmed by the sudden unscripted outburst from the two stallions, the lounging ranch hands, including the two with stun batons, quickly began to converge. Harriette put a stop to everything by commanding, "Stop right there, you, two!" and waved off the approaching slave wranglers. Both stallions tried to look very innocent as the two smaller ponies scrambled backwards to get out of their reach.

Harriette took the stallions by their elbows and turned them back around. Neither resisted and she easily controlled the two physically-but-not-legally powerful men. Unlike the bridesmaids earlier, Mistress Harriette had actual Authority over the both of them and they knew it. "One more outburst from you two and you're both going to be running punishment laps from now until Christmas... while wearing cock cages," she said in a fierce whisper, "are we clear on that?"

The two innocent-looking stallions nodded vigorously. Cock cages were a common means of controlling male slaves. For a male slave with a normal penis, it was very uncomfortable and unpleasant. But for a stallion with a penisillin-enhanced cock, it could be torturous. And not the fun kind of torture like they were putting the bridal party through tonight.

She patted them both on their muscular rumps, "Now get back to work, I want a full confession from each of these girls. And when I say full I mean full... fill them up for me."

Sheriff Harriette then took Hammer's cock in her hand and guided the head directly into Gwen's mouth. She bent over so she could look the pinned girl directly in the eye. "There you go, honey, I wasn't going to take your toy away from you. Do you need to use your safe word now?"

"Blerrgle," she replied, shaking her head.

"Good," Harriette replied with a victorious smile, "because that was your second-to-last chance to use it before the Coffle of Shame.'

"Coffle of Shame?" thought Gwen, "Did I sign up for that?"

Harriette then stood and commanded, "Hooks for everyone but the bride! Perseverance, she specified 'no bindings', so you can just pull her hair back." She then gestured to the two pony boys still sitting on their butts, "You two! Interrogate the bride, I want her thoroughly dick-tated!" They both jumped up and, giving the stallions an extra-wide berth, ran over to the other side of the breeding benches and started thrusting their cocks into the bride's willing mouth. Since they were pleasure ponies and not stallions, neither had any compunction at all about crossing swords and both tried to cram their cocks into her mouth at once. Perseverance leaned forward, which position "coincidentally" rammed the anal prong into the whimpering bride's rectum up to the hilt, and pulled back on her now-wrecked up-do so that the two pony boys had the perfect angle for ravishing her open mouth. One of them helpfully re-positioned the rhinestone tiara with the "Here CUMS the bride" lettering on it.

While they were doing that, the assistant torturers tied all of the other girls' hair into pony tails and attached metal hooks with rubber dildos on them, which they then inserted into the girls' rectums, thus locking their heads in a pulled up position.

Gwen had a complaint. She popped Hammer's cockhead out of her mouth and whined, "Harriette, I said 'no anal'."

Sheriff Harriette chuckled at that. These young girls who sign things without really understanding what they're signing were an endless source of amusement to her. She was a slaver, it's one of a slaver's favorite things. "No dear," she replied, "You specified 'no anal sex', not 'no anal penetration'. That hook isn't having sex with you, it's just penetrating you."

With that, she slipped Hammer's cock back into Gwen's mouth.

Now that the helpless girls all had their mouths occupied, the earlier chorus of cries of pleasure became a cacophony of glurking and glorping sounds. The torturers took the clipboards and began writing down their "confessions."

"Umm, Sheriff?" Thanh asked, "How do I spell 'glorp', one P or two?"

Sheriff Harriette pondered this important question for a moment. "I suppose it depends on how much slobber there is. The more slobber, the more P's on the end." Thus enlightened, the obedient slave went back to work. She checked Gwen for slobber, wrote down "glorppp" with three P's and showed it to her Mistress, who nodded in satisfaction.

"Excellent work Thanh," she said approvingly, "that's clearly three P's worth of slobber. I had no idea she was so talented. I may need to bring her in some day to give our new ponies cock-slobbering lessons during oral sex training."

The still-dressed bridesmaids overheard the exchange and helpfully volunteered to assist in the note-taking. They then had lots of fun humiliating the rustler gang by sharing especially creative spelling tips with one another. They also eagerly pointed out the expanding stains of darker blue cloth under each girl's chin as their drooling made an even bigger mess on the drop cloth beneath them.

Harriette observed that Hammer was being very careful during his interrogation not to push too far into Gwen's throat. Strongheart was doing the same with his girl as well. Being tasked with the responsibility for orally sodomizing a free woman who was bound in such a vulnerable position while under the watchful eyes of their owner had them both on their very best behavior. Neither stallion wanted to have anything to do with running in a cock cage.

Harriette was concerned that they were being a bit too cautious, though. She walked around Strongheart and pulled his cock out of Chantelle's mouth. "Honey," she asked, "do you want to deep throat this cock?"

Chantelle really did. She was determined to give this stallion an experience that he would never forget. She didn't want him to forget her. Not now, not ever. "Yes Sheriff," she replied, "I want to take all of it."

"All right then, we'll need to use the gag-reflex suppressor on you, do you consent to that?"

"Yes, please."

"Lucy, there should be some in your bag, give her a good dose and supervise carefully. It should be effective for an hour or so."

Harriette stepped back and watched as the torturer administered the fast-acting spray, then guided Strongheart's over-sized cock back into the bound girl's mouth and down into her throat. Chantelle was an experienced fellatrix and she easily swallowed the whole thing up to the root. The underside of her upraised neck, which was fully-exposed to the view of onlookers in this position, bulged alarmingly as the massive pole thrust into it. Strongheart rested his chiseled abs up against the girl's nose for a moment, then slowly withdrew, allowing the interrogatee to gasp for breath through her mouth and nose as excess saliva ran down her chin. Increased salivation and drooling were common side effects of the gag-suppressant spray, a fact that their victim was probably unaware of.

Harriette nodded in approval and instructed Lucy to write down "Schlu-u-u-ckk-thpt-bluppp-tht" on her clipboard.

"Oh nice work, Chantelle," giggled one of the observing bridesmaids, "I always wondered where you got your spending money during the school year. You must have been moonlighting at one of the suck bars near campus!" Chantelle's angry retort was cut off when Strongheart thrust back into her mouth and her eyes bugged open at the ease with which he slid his entire length through her helpless throat and into her esophagus.

Harriette patted him on the ass in approval and went back to check on Gwen and Hammer.

Hammer was still enjoying his casual partial-mouth-fuck. Harriette bent over the prone girl so she could speak in her ear. "You know, sweetie, your friend is over there deep-throating one of my stallions. Wouldn't you like to deep throat one of my stallions, too?"

Perseverance backed up and withdrew her sex toy from the bride so that Gwen could see Chantelle's performance.

"See that, see how happy she's making him? You can do that too, do you want to?" Harriette coaxed her, playing on her jealousy and competitiveness. Gwen nodded and opened her mouth. Thanh sprayed the gag-suppressant into the back of her throat while Harriette massaged the outside of her throat and told her to swallow.

"All right, Hammer," Harriette said, "we're going to try this a bit at a time, we don't want to cause bruising." She then coached the two of them as he gradually fed his cock into the girl's open mouth and into previously-unexplored depths. Once he managed to hilt it the first time, Harriette patted the girl on the head and told her to keep up the good work before leaving to supervise more debauchery.

When she returned, she saw that Hammer had a somewhat sheepish expression on his face. He had orgasmed with little warning and Gwen was coughing and snorting around his cock with two streams of jizz coming out of her nostrils and dripping down either side of his shaft.

"Oops," Sheriff Harriette commented cheerfully, "Looks like we'll have to work on that. Stand over here, Hammer, while we get her unhooked and on her feet."

She then turned to one of the fully-dressed women and took her elbow, "You! On your knees right here, you're on clean up duty."

The girl protested, "Uh, but Harriette, we weren't supposed to..."

Harriette interrupted her. "Yes, I know, you weren't supposed to be part of it, but you barged in anyway, didn't you? That feels like consent to me, start licking."

She then pointed to another bridesmaid standing nearby. "You! Clean up duty! Start licking!"

Soon Harriette had all four of the fully-dressed bridesmaids licking and sucking soiled slave cock. "It is good to be Sheriff," she thought to herself.

While this was going on, the thoroughly fucked and disheveled rustlers were being removed from their benches and had their hands cuffed in front of them. Each had also been re-gagged with their ball gags. The ragged remains of their festive attire, their faces, their exposed breasts, and their wildly-scattered hair were all covered with mysterious splatters.

Their assigned deputy torturers then arranged them in a line with the bride in front and coffled them by attaching their wrist-cuffs to a single rope. Harriette went over to the bride and pulled out her ball gag. "Two questions, do you need to use your safe word now?" When the girl declined, Harriette asked her second question "I'm going to march you through the building and the pool area to your cottages now, tits in or tits out?"

Before the bride could answer, the non-coffled bridesmaids started shouting "Tits out! Tits out!"

"Hold on, now," Sheriff Harriette told them calmly, "if we go with 'tits out', that means that ALL of you are tits out, is that what you want?" Suddenly the four non-disheveled girls became much less enthusiastic. The bride started laughing at them, "Tits-in is fine, Harriette. Wouldn't want anyone to think we've been having an orgy or anything."

Harriette gave her a long look up and down while nodding thoughtfully, noting the torn dress, cum-slicked inner thighs, smeared make up, shiny cum-smeared face, and sticky hair. "Agreed, I don't think anyone will notice anything if we just pop these titties back inside your dresses."

While the torturers went to work rearranging the girls' dresses, Harriette went down the coffle checking each girls' safe word. When she reached Gwen at the end of the line, she noticed that the girl didn't share the same happy-and-excited demeanor as the others did. Concerned, she pulled her ball gag out and asked, "Are you okay, honey do you need to use your..."

"Popcorn."

A safe word is absolute, it isn't questioned. "Right, you're done," Harriette said firmly as she unlocked Gwen from the coffle. "Caleb! March them out of here, the route we discussed."

She then turned back to the younger girl. "Are you okay, do we need to talk?"

Gwen was very quiet, her eyes downcast. "No, Harriette, maybe in the morning. I think I just need to process this. I'm done for the night. They'll party 'til the wee hours and I just don't want to be part of it any more."

Harriette nodded and stroked the girl's cum-streaked and downcast face gently. Then she turned to Gwen's assistant deputy torturers, Meadowlark and Sparrow. "Thanh's already taken Hammer back to the stables, so I want you two to escort her to my private chambers and wait for me there. Don't forget to grab your things before you go."

The ponies nodded in unison and Harriette turned and left. She didn't want to miss it when the rustlers' "confessions" were read out loud to the guests in the dining room. Then she needed to see the bridal party settled into their cottages and hot tubs for the night. She was planning on letting each girl have a pleasure pony for the evening and wanted to ensure that everything was arranged properly.

Sparrow and Meadowlark quickly ran to get their bags. Because they were still on active duty and had their speech-conversion collars turned on, they couldn't talk directly, but they were able to share worried glances. They were going to go into Mistress Harriette's private quarters! Although Mistress Harriette had a perfectly nice mansion near the Ranch, she also had a private apartment here in the Ranch's main building. Neither of them had ever been there, they didn't even know where it was, but they knew that there was a secret entrance somewhere in the building. Nobody in the pleasure pony barracks knew what went on there, but rumor had it that the Mistress would occasionally pick a favored pony girl and keep her overnight.

They slung their bags over their shoulders and hustled to catch up to their bridesmaid as she approached the exit. As they went out into the main corridor, they could hear the festive Coffle of Shame making its way through the occupied part of the building. Neither slave knew which way to go, so they just tagged along in the wake of the free woman who they now knew was someone very special to their Mistress. They needed to ensure that the girl was watched. It would be difficult, though, because although they were acting with their Mistress's delegated authority, the morose bridesmaid was a free woman with her own personal authority. It would be easy for the two of them to slip up and end up being punished by both mistresses.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
End Part Two

Next up, Part 3 - Mistress Harriette's private chambers.

[jeepster]

Curiouser and curiouser! I know not a real word but ! There's more twists and turns to this story. Nicely done.!

[ZeeChromosome]

Curiouser and curiouser! I know not a real word but ! There's more twists and turns to this story. Nicely done.!

Thanks! It's a famous quote from "Alice in Wonderland". Apparently Hank has read the classics.

I had originally intended that the "Bachelorette Party" would be 98% smut and 2% plot. But the plot kept creeping in as I wrote it, especially once I discovered that Hank's future love interest was one of the bridesmaids. So Part 3 will be about 90% plot and only 10% smut. But I think it's pretty good smut, so it's probably worth reading. Part Four, which is in progress, will be more balanced, maybe 50/50.

I'm also considering a Chantelle/Deshonte spinoff. Thoughts?

I'm so glad you're having fun, so am I!

Zee

[jeepster]

Yeah I would be interested in Chantelle's story!

[ZeeChromosome]

Yeah I would be interested in Chantelle's story!

All right bro, will put it in the pipeline. Need to do Isabelle/Dizzie's day of cart training next. Then maybe Sandy's demise or Hank's second day next. I've decided that Meadowlark (who you met above) also surrendered herself on the same day as Hank/Hammer. So there's a connection there which I might want to explore. We'll see.

Thanks again for your support. This writing stuff is really fun, but it's hard to do without feedback. So I appreciate that. Feedback is always helpful, positive or negative.

Zee

[jeepster]

Haha! Why do you think my comments are short? Just writing them I struggle to put thoughts into words! Can't imagine writing a story nevermind all that you guys do!

[TauriRed]

Plot AND smut is very good idea.
No plot at all means that story is interesting to read (at least for me)

[ZeeChromosome]

Plot AND smut is very good idea.
No plot at all means that story is interesting to read (at least for me)

So glad you're having fun, Tauri.

I'm working on that with my plot-and-smut advisors, Smith and Carl. The smut makes things fun and the plot makes the smut interesting (at least for me).

I've been writing stories for my own entertainment for years now, but writing them to entertain other people is extremely new to me. So if you have any helpful comments (likes or dislikes), I'm totally open to that.

I finished Parts 1 & 2 a couple of weeks ago (smut is easy), then was stumped until Smith and Carl helped me work through the plotting issues (plot is hard). I have a very long story arc envisioned and they helped me iron out the details. In Parts 1 & 2 we meet Gwen, who is Hank's long-term love interest. In Part 3 we learn more about what's going on in her head, which required me to learn about what is reasonable and what is not. I needed to know that so I could set up the basis for the longer-term story trajectory. That's the reason for the delay in producing Part 3.

In Part 4 we'll go back to being smutty and sexy and also lay out some of what happens for the next year or so of Hank's 5-year career as a pony stallion.

Thanks for reading and commenting!

Zee