Chapter 05 – Punishment and Humiliation (or A Role Reversal)
Cliff Burns, Chief Trainer at Ponygirl Heaven Ranch, and his Head Groom, Paula Laturno, had just exchanged words in a brief, hostile conversation. Paula, harboring a desire to take her boss' job, had responded in a bitchy manner to Cliff's attempt to find out how the morning's Ponygirl training session and the test of a Ponygirl Candidate had gone. Unknown to either employee, Marshall Thompson, owner of Ponygirl Heaven Ranch, watched the brief exchange between Cliff and Paula on a video monitor system in his office. The crystal clear audio and video feed let him witness the exchange as if he stood beside the two. He had noticed a tension between his two key employees and wanted to determine the specific cause. Paula's muttered comment about taking Cliff's job told him she was harboring unprofitable visions of advancement. While trying to decide what to do to defuse the situation, he saw Paula ready herself to punish her slowest team of girls.
Half-paying attention, Marshall watched Paula walk up to stand between 'Three' and 'Four'. "I'm disappointed in you two," she thundered in apparent anger. "You each slacked off when you had plenty of energy to do your share." After a pause, she added, "Tonight, you two get a taste of what happens to unqualified weak pussies." Then she added, "After an appropriate whipping of course!"
Paula drew her arm back and struck forcefully against the nearest grime-coated woman. As her charges spun slowly,
Marshall saw Paula draw her arm back and forcefully strike the nearest grime-coated woman. As she turned to strike the sister, Marshall's leather chair thumped against the office wall as he launched himself out of his seat. Cursing, he ran to the stairs and charged down, heading for the yard.
The two Ponygirls were gurgling in pain as they danced around on their tiptoes, dangling from their grossly extended tongues while being whipped. Paula Laturno drew her arm back to swing again when it felt as if a mountain struck her from behind. Marshall rolled Paula over and struck her on the chin, hard. While her head lulled back, he quickly pulled leather straps from his rear pocket and speedily captured his Head Groom in a vicious hogtie. He ran over to the reeling women and quickly unbuckled their tongue clips and eased the gagging and gasping women to the ground. Then, he ran to a nearby tack box and grabbed the largest red rubber ballgag he could find. He jammed it into Paula's mouth, tightened the head straps, and left her on the dirt. Marshall reached back with his dominant hand and swept his sheath knife from his belt. Short, curved, and devilishly sharp, the skinning knife doubled as Marshall's disrobing knife. He started at the cuffs of her black jeans and swept the knife up her leg, cutting through the thick material with a soft slithering sound. He had no compunction about stripping his worker. "Soon she'll be either gone from here, fired, or starting her punishment," he muttered.
Marshall pulled out his cell phone and speed dialed his Chief Trainer. "Cliff, it's Marshall. Come over to the grooming pad. We've had a problem with Paula Laturno. I need you to put away the brunettes; they're loose right now, … check out their tongues to be sure they weren't yanked out. I'll take care of Paula. We'll meet later and talk it all through." He spun around and loudly commanded, "You too sluts, stay put. Move one foot and you're dog meat."
He leaned down and easily hefted the slightly chunky Groom by the tie holding her wrists and ankles together. Carrying her like baggage, her sensitive breast meat dragging across the rough yard, he dragged the woman back to just below a hanging pulley above the grooming pad. Marshall manhandled the woman to an upright position and tied the hanging blue rope off to a top-mounted ring on Paula's facial gag harness. He let loose her weight and cut the helpless woman's wrist ties and secured them with more nylon rope, forcing her arms into a fully outstretched position. Marshall picked up several sections of coarse hay baling twine and proceeded to wrap the line around the base of her fat tits. He watched them start to swell and redden with the first complete wrap. When her tits were fully bound, a long section of the twine hung from the area between her breasts. Marshall took this free end and ran it between her sensitive cunt lips, up between the cheeks of her ass, and tied off the line on the back of her bondage collar.
The rancher dealt with her legs in a manner similar to her arms. He wrapped the blue line around her ankles and then pulled each leg outward before tying off the twin.
Since Paula's cabin was the closest building to the grooming pad, Marshall ran over to her bungalow where he raided Paula's closet of bondage gear. He stopped cold at the sight of two trapped blondes noisily eating each other out on Paula's king-size bed. He grinned at their predicament but kept focused on his task.
Back at the grooming pad, Marshall attached a dog leash to a 'D' ring on each side of the bound woman's neck and tied it to a rail behind the hanging carcass. He saw that Paula's wrists were already turning blue from the tightly wrapped nylon lines. Awake now, Paula was weakly struggling to get free. Grimly, he yanked on the leash holding her head back and then stood back to survey her bound form. The Head Groom was now tied fully spread-eagle and accessible for whatever punishment the rancher decreed.
Marshall ran a gloved hand across the somewhat fleshy ass and watched the woman twitch in response to the caress. He drew his arm back and let fly with a vicious swipe at her belly with a two-foot long riding crop. She jerked about and mewed in pain.
"Paula, you've let your anger at Cliff get in the way of your job. You've risked your charges with your stupidity. You have a one-time choice here: to continue working in your chosen career, or retire. Which do you choose? Nod to take a punishment and keep working, shake your head to retire."
Paula loved her job too much to retire. Further, she was sure each choice was fraught with danger. "Retirement under such circumstances might be final," she thought. Nonetheless, she vigorously nodded her head up and down to indicate her choice of punishment and continued employment.
That decision made, Marshall leaned down and commanded, "Don't talk to me cunt. You risked our Ponygirls by acting unthinkingly; all because you were too focused on some kind of revenge against Cliff. A mistake I can work with, … but I can't allow any distractions here while training the livestock. Resist what I'm going to do and I might beat you to death!" He popped out the red ballgag and slipped in an adjustable ringgag with its own teeth mounting depressions. Without any remorse, he cranked the gag tight, yanking her jaws wide open.
Marshall threw Paula belly-down upon her own leather ottoman he had brought from her cabin and thrown on the concrete grooming pad. He pulled his razor-sharp knife again from his belt sheath and sliced through the ties holding the woman's wrists and ankles outstretched. Her bound legs flopped lifelessly down to strike the floor. Paula's belly was dragged to the edge of the ottoman and Marshall quickly wrapped leather thongs around each knee and then stretched each widely apart to the short fat legs at that end of the ottoman. Marshall sat down on her back and strapped a wide leather collar around her neck. He attached another dog leash to the one already clipped to a 'D' ring on her tall collar and tied the two ends off to opposite corners of the ottoman.
Paula's struggled weakly as if to test the limits of her bonds. Grimly Marshall tightened the two leashes holding her head and then stood up to survey her bound form. The Head Groom was now tied down, fully naked on her own ottoman, fleshy ass presented openly for fucking.
Moments later, Paula and her ottoman sat atop a skid plate beside the grooming pad. Marshall threw a bag of equipment down beside her along with her doormat from the cabin and picked up the towrope. His muscles swelled as he put his weight into towing his victim. "It's been years since I had to do something this drastic," he thought. "What a waste of time and energy. Paula, you should have kept your head in the game," he complained aloud.
Once the skid plate was in the middle of a small stallion-holding corral, Marshall dropped the towrope and approached the bound woman. He threw Paula's welcome mat across her back, examined how it sat, and rotated it till it read 'Welcome' while looking at her back from the ass end. He tugged one end down to the small of her back and reached down for a handful of galvanized roofing nails. One by one, he drove a series of the fat-headed nails across each of the mat's sides, tightly securing the thick mat over her back. Marshall picked up a length of chain and set a lag screw through the free end. Twisting a ratchet wrench, he drove the lag screw into the ottoman's side just below a black-jean-clad thigh. A few minutes of clicking and a similar chain was secured in the wooden frame below her other thigh. Marshall carefully fed the chains up under the thighs above the lag screws and then routed them up over her back to meet at a point one foot behind Paula's neck. He slipped a snaplink through the junction point and used boltcutters to snap off the unneeded links from one chain. Marshall tugged the chains and was satisfied that they met equidistant from the lag-bolt-secured ends. The single remaining section of chain was wrapped around Paula's head and fed behind the ringgag holding her mouth open. Once through, the chain was pulled tight, yanking Paula's head painfully back and embedding the chainlinks in the corners of her yawing mouth, distorting her cheeks. Marshall pulled back tightly once again and slipped the appropriate chain link through the snaplink already in place at the junction behind Paula's head.
Stepping back to appraise Paula's position, Marshall saw his former Head Groom tightly secured doggie style over her ottoman with a welcome mat over her back and a chain tightly holding her head back in a punishing angle. The woman's ass was presented in a perfect fashion for sex, her exposed twat easily accessible for mounting. Marshall ran his gloved fingers through her puffy pussy gash. Marshall had no desire to fuck his lesbian Groom. But he had to start her punishment somewhere. "Paula," he declared, "ten slices of the cane across your ass will start your path to a return as my employee."
"Unghh! Unghh!" Paula tried to talk through her double gag of chain and ringgag.
The rattan cane in Marshall's two hands sliced through the air with a hiss and a meaty sound of impact followed. Paula's, "Eiiiii," of pain was recognizable even through her gags.
"One," was Marshall's dispassionate comment following the slash. The cane once again sliced through the air. Paula's shrieks of pain continued. Marshall surveyed his work. He was certain that under her black Jeans her ass had heavy welts already forming. Two of his strokes had crossed her open crotch and one pussy lip was bleeding, the rest so swollen that the lips had joined in a single puffy mass. He swung his last stroke hard against her lower thighs. "Ten," he counted and threw the cane aside.
Marshall pulled Paula's 'Bitch Buster' strap-on dildo from the bag of toys borrowed from her closet. Marshall had to crouch down to align the fat cock with her narrow slit. The grossly swollen flesh was almost impossible to separate for the cock's head to center itself. The huge, soda can-sized beast dwarfed the slim woman's cunt. He leaned down, setting the fat mushroom-shaped head against her dry gash. Marshall pulled back an inch and squeezed a thin line of sex lube down the fourteen-inch length and onto the inner edge of her pussy lips. Paula's ass started to wriggle desperately about, trying to evade what she thought was Marshall's cock. He reset the head against her cunt and leaned down. The blunt end of the beastly giant sunk relentlessly into Paula's dry cunt and her grunts of pain through her gaping mouth sounded similar to a squealing pig. Marshall marveled that her tiny cunt could stretch so easily to accommodate the baseball bat-sized cock without splitting her wide open. He bumped into the bottom of her fuck hole and then swiveled the mammoth cock around, stirring the depths of her pussy. Muffled howls of pain came faintly from her head. Marshall started pumping the eternally stiff monster into her abused cunt, faster and faster. Her grunts, squeals, and yowls of pain remained constant. He grinned at the animalistic sounds coming from her mouth. "It is perfect, given what will happen next," he said aloud.
Finally, after Paula slumped weakly on her ottoman, Marshall pulled the cock free of her cunt with a long slurping, sucking sound. Her cunt remained open by inches, too stretched out to retain its elasticity. Marshall reached behind him for a squirt bottle taken from Paula's closet and slipped half its length inside the cavern without touching the sides. He gave the bottle two strong squeezes and then jammed the fake cock back inside. The effect was electrifying, Paula immediately came to life and began wriggling about like a snake trapped on a sizzling grate. "Guess her hot chili paste does work wonders on a pussy needing punishment." The wildly spasming muscles about her cunt made the long strap-on embedded in her abused pussy dance about. Marshall left to get a bottle of beer from the nearest refrigerator.
Marshall strolled through Paula Laturo's cabin, sipping her beer. The ice-cold Tecate Beer hit the spot. He was curious about how the blonde Ponygirls were doing and walked into Paula's bedroom. The smell of hot pussy was overpowering in the enclosed space. Marshall set his beer bottle down on the floor and pulled off one of his cowboy boots. "I don't use these cunts much," he thought, "but I think I've deserved it tonight." He clambered up onto the bed at the headboard end and knelt down behind one of his animal's butts that was slowly grinding down on the sister below. The tongue trapped against the cunt above fascinated Marshall. Careful not to interfere with their forced union, he set his condom's lubricated tip against the tiny anal star of the upper woman's ass.
Becky was the top sister on the bed and the one whose ass Marshall was preparing to fuck. She felt the weight of someone she supposed was Paula on the bed behind her and steeled herself to be viciously fucked by the gigantic fake cock favored by the Head Groom. The fingers fumbling around her ass as the tip of a rock-hard dick gently eased its way inside, convinced Becky that it wasn't Paula. "She's never gentle," she thought, "I wonder who it is?" The slippery cock was moving carefully enough to fuel her sexual fires that had been simmering for hours. Her clit had become numb from too much oral stimulation and the motions of the cock stirred fresh sexual nerves in her rectum. "Oh, yes!" Becky moaned in silence, "if I'm gonna get it in the ass, this is the way to do it." She shivered as the strongest orgasm of the night overtook her. Tears of joy rolled down her face as she cried aloud when the orgasm continued unabated and she felt the man behind her spurting his jism down his pulsating cock into the tip of the condom buried in her intestines. "Oh what a fucking life this has become," she screamed as best she could around her anchored tongue.
Marshall Thompson groaned as his dick erupted. He echoed her comments aloud, "Yes! What a fucking great life! What a life!"
Despite the turnabout in her life, Anna Sawyer's thoughts behind her musky, cunt-juice-covered face were similar. "Yes," she gloried as Becky's tongue triggered another wrenching orgasm, "this is fucking great! Life is fucking great."
Paula Laturno, still writhing in pain from the hot chili paste in her cunt would never have agreed with their sentiment. Abandoned to the cold desert night, Paula was tortured by her burning pussy and the painful throbbing from her caning. She finally passed out from sheer exhaustion.
Doctor Joan Miller spent a night in misery as well. After her impressive start on the desert run, she had become exhausted and the run ended in disaster when she passed out cold while still running. As her body suffered scratches and rock burns from the abrasive desert floor during her tumbling fall, her stomach was hurling vomit everywhere, covering herself in vomit and gritty sand. Cliff found the unfortunate woman bound in the back of the surrey when he went to put away the brunette Ponygirls. "I'll leave this one here," he said when he saw the disgusting mess of a woman. "After I review the video feeds of the run, I'll know what to do with her."
Much later, Joan was dragged to the muddy pig pen and thrown naked into the slimy mess. Cliff left her unbound except for a length of chain padlocked around one ankle. The other end was locked to a steel spike already driven deep in the earth for just that purpose. Joan spent a horribly uncomfortable night, trying to burrow her naked form deep into the chilly mud to escape the icy desert night. She was unable to enjoy the bright stars that spotted the clear, black sky. At some point soon after sundown, several pigs shouldered themselves against her tender skin. The pigs' bristly skin rubbed her skin raw. Desperate for the warmth, Joan cradled her stiff form against the slimy creatures.
Daylight at Ponygirl Heaven Ranch brought drastic changes to most of the staff and livestock. Paula Laturno had been a key player and her absence was felt. At the crack of dawn, Marshall stepped outside his home on the property and walked over to his horse. An eight-year-old gelding, Wind Dancer, had been saddled and waiting for his rider for over thirty minutes. Marshall caressed his mount's neck and shoulder, greeting him with quiet words of greeting. One set of saddlebags were opened for stowing the few items he was bringing to the Ponygirl Training Camp. He reached down with practiced fingers to find Wind Dancer's girth strap. Quickly he set his knee to the gelding's relaxed belly and tugged smoothly upward on the girth. Saddle prepared, Marshall leapt easily into the custom-built roping saddle, clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and gently eased his horse off the hitching rail. At a slow walk, Marshall organized his thoughts to optimize how best to perform his many tasks for the day. Wind Dancer knew the trail by heart and led the way without cue from his owner. A gentle squeezing of his rider's knees, a shift of weight in the saddle, and Wind Dancer moved into his smooth, mile-consuming trot. Marshall knew he had about fifteen minutes of riding to prepare himself to tackle the day's events.
Wind Dancer's first stop was outside the stallion holding corral. Marshall approached the eight-foot high, solid oak plank wall and let himself in. He dropped his small backpack beside Paula and moved to her head to check her condition. Although she was in obvious pain, Paula was breathing easily. Marshall continued around her bound form and ended up at the giant phallus sticking out of her cunt. He ran his fingers across pussy lips that were so tightly stretched that the lips were white from lack of proper blood flow. Marshall took off his goatskin gloves and grasped the fake cock to tug it out; the cock resisted and Marshall pulled again.
Paula Laturno had come to life when the gigantic cock was tugged upon. She grunted in protest and wiggled her hips. Undeterred, Marshall wrapped both hands around the fat cock and pulled strongly. The cock released with a sound like a cork popping out of a champagne bottle. As it had done the night before, Paula's pussy remained wide opening. Marshall reached into his pack for an unadorned four ounce plastic bottle. He uncapped the bottle and pulled out the brush attached to the screwcap. He smiled grimly as he brushed the bottle's contents across her pussy framed within the opening in her black pants. It took some careful stretching to open the abused vagina and then he dabbed the gooey mess inside as well. Marshall left the stallion pen and walked the short distance to a nearby cinderblock building. Cliff Burns had left a wagon with a heavy-duty steel cage atop it beside the building, as requested by Marshall. The ranch owner picked up the tongue and heaved back hard get it slowly rolling. His goal was the stallion pen. Once inside, Marshall closed the oak gate behind himself and then opened the doors of the cage atop the wagon.
Marshall's six male Scottish Deerhounds leapt silently out of the now open cage and circled his form. Well trained, they formed a soundless cordon around him and sat alertly awaiting his command. With a silent hand signal to his hounds, all seven males approached the bound form of Paula. She never knew what hit her. Following Marshall's cue, the lead male bounded forward, set his forepaws on the Welcome Mat, and thrust his hips forward, nailing her dog-bitch-musk-covered pussy in one stroke. Invisible and unscented to man, the dogs had smelled the odor of bitch in heat from their kennels. They knew that their owner was bringing them closer to the bitch in season that needed their cocks. Paula grunted unabated as the first dog's knot formed and slipped painfully inside her pussy. Marshall saw that her still-swollen pussy lips closed tightly over the knot, locking it inside her body while the dog whined and then started to pump again. The powerful thrusts of the 100-pound stud yanked his knot inside her pussy lips as if an alien creature was trying to burst free of her vagina. Paula shrieked in extra pain as the knot popped free only to begin to batter its way back inside. Another unearthly howl burst from her hoarse throat as the knot ripped a path back inside. Marshall ran his hand across Paula's head and heard her loud pants as she attempted to control the pain and her emotions. "Only six more dogs to go Paula," he said. "Oh, … that is unless they decide to keep fucking you all day long. After all, you do smell like a bitch in heat. Enjoy."
Paula's animalistic grunts followed Marshall until he was well away from the stallion pen.
Marshall's next stop was the pig pen where Cliff had left Doctor Miller alone through the long night, forced to huddle with the muddy pigs. Joan's form was indiscernible from the filthy livestock. "Joan," Marshall yelled, "wake up, you lazy pig."
Joan heard the voice and weakly struggled to gain her knees in the thick goop. She had to wipe gobs of dirt and filth from her face in order to see the Ponygirl Heaven Ranch owner. With a struggle, she crept on hands and knees toward his position along the pen's board fence. The chain let her face come within inches of the top board where one of his cowboy boots rested. Not daring to touch him with her soiled hands, she carefully flicked out her tongue to convey the only message that she thought would work, attempting to convey love and obedience. The feel of her new golden tongue ring against the dusty leather created odd sensations in her muscular tongue. Marshall's voice drifted down, "You stay here today, cow. Stay deep in the mud or you'll burn your skin off in this desert sun. Tomorrow, you start your time as a Cowgirl. Trust me, it's nowhere near the glamour of a job like hauling manure. How long you remain in that job is up to you. If you make progress, you'll move on. Two more failures, though, and we give up on you, forever."
Joan crouched in misery as he started away. He stopped and added over his shoulder, "Oh, by the way, tomorrow you have company. The two of you will progress or fail together, so you better become good friends. Enjoy your day of rest. Your partner is not having so much fun, she's getting her ass shagged off."
Latter that day three time zones west of nighttime Miami, the Arizona late afternoon sun had rapidly lost its heating effect as it slipped below the nearby mountain range, chilling Joan Miller's skin. As the gooey mud also lost its daytime heat, Joan crept after the hogs in the filthy pen, hoping they would stand still long enough for her to become warmer by cuddling against their bristly hides. Her muddy tits dragged through the mud as she moved wearily on all fours. In addition to being filthy dirty, Joan was starving, having been fed only two cans of low-fat, low-carbohydrate meal replacement when she first arrived. She remembered the easy humiliation she felt while sucking the vanilla-flavored liquid through a giant rubbery cock. The healthy meal had been consumed a dribble at a time as the cock only spurted 'food' down her gullet when the cock was deep-throated enough for her teeth to depress two pads, each time triggering a small feeding. "I'd be happy to deep-throat that thing now. I'm starving. The pigs wouldn't let me get to the trough to eat any of the slop they poured in during dinner. Fucking pigs!"
Paula was too fucked out to grunt or complain in any way as with a faint whine from his throat, yet another of the huge Scottish Deerhounds was able to get her swollen pussy to release his deflating cock. An entire day's worth of thin watery sperm from the six dogs had dribbled down from her two abused holes to dry into a crusty mass on the back and inside of her thighs. She could only grunt in worn out dismay as another of the seemingly insatiable dogs nosed around her pussy. At this point, Paula almost welcomed another abusing, hard-thrusting dog dick in her pussy; as long as they left her equally abused asshole alone. "Stupid fucking dogs," she muttered, "they only want a bitch's smelly hole to fuck; ass or cunt, it makes no difference to them." She took a deep breath as another heavy dog clambered up onto her back, its spear-like cock tip thrusting wildly, attempting to find a hole. Paula winched as the dog thrust against the thin partition between her two holes, only to thrust again and again until finally, the pointy tip struck home. The rock-hard cock slammed home into her pussy, eliciting a winch of pain as the inflating ring around the cock struck her beet-red outer pussy lips. The dog howled in satisfaction as it buried itself in the hot vagina of the unwilling bitch. Paula already knew to expect the hammer-like blows to double in speed as the dog picked up his inhuman fucking pace. Her inner muscles spasmed in response to the abuse, finding nothing sexual or exciting about the pounding. Earlier in the day, the dogs had been able to build animalistic lust in her loins from the amazing stimulation of the breeding fucks, triggering earth-shattering orgasms in the avowed lesbian. However, Paula hadn't orgasmed during the last four hours of hammering sex; instead, she had fallen into a stupor except when she was first mounted by a dog and then during the extremely painful dismount after the dog had pumped dozens of spurts of watery sperm inside her. Each of the six dogs had 'bred' her at least a half dozen times.
Some unhappy bitches went to sleep very late that night. Both Joan, the doctor, and Paula, the trainer, ended their days in very different fashion from what either had expected. The coming days would be critical for each.
--- To Be Continued ---
Author: Desert Dog ****** E-Mail: Desertlickingdog at yahoo dot com
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