A Tale Of Two Families by NickHC

by NickHC

Extreme, F+, f+, M, m+, Real Life, Bestiality, Bondage, Domination, Humiliation, Modification, Pain, Sadism, Spanking, Non-Consensual

Extreme, F+, f+, M, m+, Real Life, Bestiality, Bondage, Domination, Humiliation, Modification, Pain, Sadism, Spanking, Non-Consensual
Part 1 of 5
Author's Note: This was the first story I wrote, so please allow me a little leeway. My command of written English has never been that good! It is intended to be a tale of dark BDSM, non-consensual fantasy involving two families.  One unlucky enough to fall into the hands of the other. The story is on-going and I will add other chapters later.

Chapter 1 - Baby 

It was the growing daylight that woke him. It automatically triggered a switch in the dim night light which then turned off with an audible click as the dawn light grew stronger. That and the increasing and uncomfortable pressure growing in his plastic pants. He would try not to move although he knew he would have to soon. He found it difficult to remain in any position for too long, and his restless legs would soon begin to cramp up. However, any movement in his present condition was dangerous as he'd first discovered to his cost many months ago and numerous times since. Movement sometimes encouraged seepage from the tight elastic seams that secured his plastic pants around his waist and thighs. 

Such seepage was not welcome. Seepage was bad. Seepage was dirty. Seepage smelled. Accidental leaks that soiled him, his attire, his mattress and could drip to the carpet were not allowed even though it was not his fault. He no longer had any control over anything, they had seen to that. 

It had been easier in the early days when his bodily functions still responded to his will, but even those basic control normally so essential to human dignity had been taken from him. Just like they had taken his liberty, his family and almost his sanity in this place of suffering and humiliation. The first few days he'd been able to offer some measure of resistance as his body still responded to his will. That ability to his humiliation and shame had swiftly evaporated. He'd surmised that they must be putting things in his food or milk, maybe both. Whatever it was, some form of strong laxative he assumed, it worked well, too well. He no longer had any control of his bowel or urinary functions. Once it's journey through his digestive system was accomplished it came out and filled his diaper and then his pants.

If it stayed in he was fine but if anything should come out would be his fault for not being 'a good little girl' and keeping still till Mummy came and changed him. He should know that by now. She would sniff then snigger then chide him for being such a careless and 'pongy baby girl.' Consequences depended on her mood. If she were in a rare good mood, nothing would come of it. She might even, as she had on one or two occasions, given him a big hug and a kiss. If she was in a bad mood or worse if it was her mother or sister who came instead....

His eyes strayed to the nearest wall. The light was outside was gradually growing stronger, and between the thin steel bars that confined him he could make out the various items in the room. Everything was grey, 50 shades of grey in the early dawn light but this was no romantic bdsm tale. His existence was a bondage nightmare way beyond anything any sane person could ever conceive!

He lay flat on his back in what months before, he'd briefly assumed, was a steel cage made with the bars ten centimetres or so apart, a steel mesh top, bottom, sides, back and front. It had the same approximate dimensions as a very narrow domestic single bed. Possible a tad longer than the norm but somewhat slimmer which gave him some leeway but not much, after all, he was or had been, six feet one, not that he had allowed to stand erect for a long time. 

Soon the light that filtered under and around the heavy curtains that covered the French windows would begin to reveal the monotonous colours scheme of this hellish prison. Pink. Pink and cream but predominantly a pale soft pink in various subtle and not so subtle shades. No blue or green or black or red - just pink and cream. Even this, this cell he was in, was painted pink. He privately always thought of it as a cell, his cell within a larger prison. In reality, he now knew it was a baby's cot, a disgustingly pink, oversized steel replica of a baby's cot. 

It stood on short legs so his 'mummy' could have easy access to her baby via the fold-down sides. Unlike a real baby's cot, this one had a steel mesh top that allowed him to sit up but no more. At either end above the mesh stood a squat headboard and footboard adorned with cartoon images of pastel-hued smiling fairies and princesses to mock him. It might be meant to function as a baby's cot, and indeed it did, but in reality, it was nothing more than a garishly coloured cage to humiliate and imprison him!

The growing light would soon reveal more of that hated room that he knew so well. The pink girlie wallpaper of unicorns and yet more fairies and princesses. The oversized 'high chair' where they fed him, the changing table near the wall with the shelves stacked with various bottles of oils, lotions, powders, and the like. The big pink and white cupboard whose mirrored doors were covered in yet more childish cartoon stickers and the shelves and racks inside contained his hideous wardrobe.

Even the thought of it caused him to shudder in shame and embarrassment. The pink romper suits and onesies, booties, bonnets, frilly little dresses that barely covered his bottom and matching frilly panties, invariably in a shade of pink. They spared him nothing. Another large mirror covered part of the adjacent wall, so he could always see himself dressed in all his 'baby girl' glory.

Baby girl. Right from that first day they had referred to him in that feminine fashion. Not once had there been any reference either to his age or sex or his past existence. As far as he was aware he did not even have a name now. He was just 'baby or girlie or some other sickeningly sweet name' to them and he'd long since learned not to try to find any answers to anything. His mummy's mummy had seen to that.....

His eyes roamed again passing briefly over the large pink plastic baby bath next to the...the large pink potty! God, how he hated that potty and the humiliations that went with its use. He focused on the two objects hanging from hooks above it, and a spasm of fear ran through him. Please let her be in a good mood he mouthed to himself. He dared not speak. He knew if he did it would be recorded or heard on the baby monitor just as every movement of his miserable existence was constantly viewed and recorded by that camera mounted high up on the far wall.

His eyes had flickered momentarily to the camera but then back to the objects hanging on the wall and felt his customary tremor of apprehension. The innocuous-looking length of thin flexible bamboo; its leather handgrip adorned with a pink ribbon tied in a bow. Next, to it, the wide paddle in pink leather with the remnants of yet another cartoon sticker of a fairy tale princess stuck to it. The sticker had originally been pristine but frequent contact between the paddle and his arse had all but obliterated it. He shuddered again. He knew them both well, too well. Miss Biter and Mrs Beater, his Mummy, called them. He knew that if his Mummy was upset with him or if he leaked, his intimate and all too regular acquaintance with one or more likely both would soon be renewed.

There was no clock in his prison - or nursery as THEY called it. Babies presumably did not need to know the time. His only clock was the cycle of day and night and the regularity of his daily routine. Likewise, he knew not what day of the week it was or what month or even how long he had been in this dreadful house of horrors for he knew that his miserable existence was but one of the evils perpetrated by his jailers and that others suffered equally. His own family almost certainly unless something even more sinister had happened to them. His rough guess was that he had been held captive for around four months, but it could have been longer or shorter. When you were in hell did one day matter any more than the next, and he had long given up any hope of being rescued. 

In the beginning, he had fought of course. Oh, how he had fought but to no avail. The restraints they had placed on him back then were still in place, a constant reminder of his helplessness. He was also now much much weaker physically. He had not stood upright for months - not since that last time he had been dragged down to the basement by his Mummy's mummy. That was his third and hopefully final trip to that hell-hole. Never again would he be stupid enough to do anything to merit a return there. Miss Biter and Mrs Beater could do their worse every day - better that than five minutes with the lady of the house with her toys in that hellish dungeon. 

His belly and bowels rumbled and gurgled. He was frightened. His diaper and pants were already stretched and uncomfortable, and he knew from experience that if anything else came out, he would definitely leak and then suffer the inevitable punishment. There was no way of reliving the pressure or of adjusting his garb. He shifted slightly on his squeaky plastic covered mattress. He hated that mattress as much as he hated everything else. He couldn't move without making a noise, and his nursery prison was always too hot so that he frequently perspired too much and stuck to its surface.

He slowly turned his head. It was a lot lighter now, and he could see his reflection in the big mirror. Were those his eyes looking so hopeless and resigned staring back at him. No one who knew or had known him would recognise him now. Gone was the thick head of rebellious shaggy black hair and the permanent five o'clock shadow. Not a single hair remained on his entire body bar his eyebrows - and his mummy regularly and somewhat brutally had a habit of plucking those. How they had done that he knew not, but he was as bald as a newborn baby. 

His face was a puffy pasty white bordering on looking unhealthy. He'd put on weight even though that muck they fed him seemed to have little body to it. Three times a day they gave him his feeding bottle. He hated it but had long since learned the futility of trying to resist or of not draining it of every drop as he earnestly sucked on its rubber teat. It tasted so...so sweet and sickly and thick. Every evening he was put in that damn oversized high chair, strapped in with his feet sticking out and spoon fed his supper. He yearned for something to bite into something to chew, but every meal was the same, a puree of some sort and sometimes a mix of several flavours but always somewhat boring and without much taste or substance. 

Nevertheless, whatever they used was certainly adding a few pounds to him, and what was worse it was weakening him. Day by day his strength had diminished. They were adding some drug or maybe even a cocktail of drugs to his food that was sapping his strength, wasting his muscles. He doubted if he could even stand now had it been allowed. Once out of his cage like cot he could crawl as was required but even that had started to tire him sometimes. A while back when the weather had been warmer, his Mummy had put a set of baby reins on him and made him crawl into the garden a few times encouraging him now and then with cuts from the ever-ready 'Miss Biter'. 

Moodily he continued to survey himself in the mirror through the bars of his cage. He refused to call it a cot. He could see the spring-loaded catches that held the side in place to imprison him. Had he had the use of his hands it would have taken but a second to thread his hand through the bars and work the catch. His hands encased in pink mittens made of thin leather but also stiffened with an integrated inflexible metal plate were ineffective. There was no give in them nor would they fit through the narrower openings at the top of his cage. They were useless for anything other than supporting his front when he crawled along the floor. They were locked at the wrist and were removed once a month when his mummy trimmed his fingernails and bathed his hands. One hand at a time and even then, it was handcuffed to one of the bars of his cot. 

His feet were equally useless, strapped as they were into some pink leather footwear that reminded him of the slippers he'd seen ballet dancers wear, but these were more robust more boot like and forced his feet to curve so that there was no way he could have stood erect had he even been allowed. Like the mitts his footwear was removed once a month, so his toenails could be trimmed, and his feet bathed.

They had dressed him, if you could call it that, in one of his least favourite outfits. Not that he really favoured any of the numerous items in his wardrobe. They were all equally ridiculous, degrading and humiliating. Last night they had put him into one of the pink frilly baby dresses that barely covered his rump and matching pink frilly panties. Both items had pink and white ponies embroidered on. The only two other items he wore merely added and emphasised his helpless state of captivity. Around his neck was locked a pink leather collar just like a dog might wear although no decent dog owner would subject their pet to something that colour! Like a dog collar, it had places where his young Mummy could attach a leash when required and it even had a tag dangling from it with the word Baby engraved on it in flowing italics.

He could live with that collar unlike one they had used in the early days of his confinement. That one had been made of thicker leather and was more like the old-fashioned military stocks soldiers used to wear. It had forced him to hold his head ridged with minimum movement as well as rubbing his skin raw in places. The only other item could not be seen, but he could feel it and was always conscious of it. Not only content with reducing him to the status of a baby they had also emasculated him. A stainless-steel device of some sort was confining his penis, his testicles dangling loose and vulnerable below it. Unlike his mitts and boots so far this had not been removed. Notwithstanding the confinement, he knew he was still working down there from the futile and painful attempts towards obtaining an erection he experienced on rare occasions when thinking or dreaming of happier times when he'd been a man. 

Thoughts about his captive manhood immediately led to a growing awareness of his discomfort. How much longer before something gave. He looked hopefully towards the windows again. The light was growing stronger, brighter, much brighter surely someone would come soon, they always seemed to be early risers in this hellish household. He knew why. He was not the only one who would need attention. There were others and from his brief glimpses and overheard snippets of conversation, his life such as it was might even be relatively comfortable when compared to some of the other inhabitants. He'd heard references to the stable and kennel and their naughty occupants. He'd heard his 'mummy's' older sister once said she needed to blister Fido's backside again for messing in his basket again. Who or what was Fido? A dog, a human dog, maybe even a member of his family? He groaned again in misery and despair. 

His ears pricked up. Footsteps were approaching. He listened intently. He could hear footsteps coming down the corridor. He sighed thankfully; they were the slower soft footfalls of his Mummy's trainers and not, the quicker sharp tip tap of her mother or elder sisters stiletto heeled boots.


Chapter 2 - Eva

The nursery was situated at the end of the hall furthest away from the staircase and to the left of the impressive front entrance porch. It was one of the larger rooms in the old house and had originally been the drawing room or second lounge. An under-utilised room where in days gone by elegantly clad ladies would have gathered after formal dinners to chat, gossip and play cards while leaving the bewhiskered menfolk to enjoy their port and cigars. 

The spacious room had a large bay window to the front and tall French windows on the side, giving plenty of natural illumination. The original wooden frames and glass now gone, replaced with modern plastic covered steel frames, and the glass was a specialised extra thick highly toughened safety glass that obviated the need for crude security bars. No need for the owners to advertise that there were grim secrets contained within the building. Very dark secrets rather like windows that you could easily see out of but from the exterior would reveal nought but your shaded reflection in the special glass.

An old Victorian dark oak combined hat, umbrella and coat stand with a large central mirror stood in the hall just before the door to the nursery. One of the few original items of furniture that remained in the house. Eva paused momentarily to examine herself in the mirror as she did every morning on the first visit to her 'baby'.

The venerable and slightly tarnished mirror reflection showed an extremely petite and slender pale-faced young blonde with strikingly ice blue eyes, full cupid lips and deliberately tousled shoulder-length hair. She pouted her lips and then opened her mouth slightly to wet them a little, her pink tongue contrasting with the brilliant white teeth. That reminded her of something. 'Must give babies teeth a clean again soon'. She turned sideways, smoothed down the front of her white regulation school blouse and thrust her chest out, then sighed. Oh well, she thought. Maybe I should get baby sucking on my teeny tits a lot more - might aid their development a bit. Then again it might make him try to get all horny again and then I'd have to do something serious to discourage that. She giggled at the thought. Not that baby could get very horny while wearing his 'device'.

A door banged open further down the hall, and her older sister emerged. Alice was twenty and almost the opposite of her sister. A tall, slim, tanned, green-eyed girl with dark hair neatly trimmed in page-boy fashion. Dressed as usual in a tight green sweater, even tighter jeans, and a pair of expensive high heeled tan boots. A wicked looking riding switch dangled from one wrist. Eva often wondered if her sister even slept with it, she never seemed to be without it or something similar.

'Mother says you're to get baby fed quickly and then get your breakfast.' She's getting it ready now then she will drive you to school. "She said she will change her for you later."

"What's the rush and why not dad driving, and why is mum getting things ready, not girlie? I thought she was supposed to take care of all the chores while Aunty Clare is borrowing mumsie?

Alice laughed wickedly. "Early dental appointment and evidently Dad was feeling rather randy when he got up this morning, so girlie is otherwise occupied." She laughed again. "He really ought to close the bedroom door though. Judging by the vigorous way he was going at it when I went by and the pained squeals she was making while bent over the end of the bed she's in for another long hard ride."

Eva sniffed. "You'd think the bitch would be used to it by now. He must have banged that lazy sluts man cunt at least once a day for the last four months!"

Alice smiled at her younger sister. "Do you think you'd ever get used to having a cock up your arse daily - especially one as big and thick and demanding as his?"

"I have noooo intention of ever experimenting in that direction, thank you very much," Eva replied rather tartly and drawing the no out somewhat. "Anyway, don't your animals get used to their tails?"

Alice shrugged indifferently. "I suppose so in some ways. However, unlike girlie, they have theirs 24/7, so that is somewhat different, not that they have any choice".

"Maybe you should try that then."

"I have noooo desire to experiment either," Alice replied mimicking her sister. They both laughed.

"Tell mum I'll be there in a couple of ticks, oh and if baby has been naughty and had an accident, you or mum can deal with her for me."

"You need to potty train her. That stuff you feed her on really stinks when it comes out the other end".

Eva laughed, "What and get rid of the diapers, that's half the fun, and she does so hate wearing them. Anyway, what's the difference between that and your dogs and ponies?"

"The dogs know better than to go in their kennels and runs and mucking our the ponies is just par for the course".

"Well, if she's had an accident, let mum do the needful."

Alice nodded and went back to the dining room. Eva pushed open the nursery door, sniffed hard a couple of times and then ignoring the occupant in the steel cot strode briskly to the windows and pulled the drapes open, hooking them back with the embossed retaining ties on either side allowing the bright early morning sunlight to flood into the room.

She went over to the cot and stood for a second or two staring down at the helpless man who blinked fearfully up at her through slightly misty damp eyes. Hers! He or she as she thought of him now, belonged to her and her alone, that always gave her a thrill each morning. Mother and Alice had their 'girls and animals', but she had her big sweet helpless baby! She sniffed again. "So far so good baby, no pee pee or poopies out of baby's diaper and pretty panties." She smiled sweetly and leant forward to gently stroke the man's bald head a couple of times. "Mummy will get babies breakie bottle and then she has to run, or she'll be late for school, won't she?"

The man made a strangling sort of noise, a mixture of gargle and whine. "Pee pee" he whimpered in the high pitch voice he was allowed giving vent to one of the few words, 'clever baby' had supposedly learned and was allowed to use.

"No baby, mummy does not have time to potty and change you this morning," Eva said firmly. "Baby will have to wait patiently like the good baby she is. Granny or Aunty Alice will be along soon to see to you so don't do anything naughty." She smiled sweetly at the whimpering captive. "You know you don't want to upset them do you; you know how cross they can get with nasty, dirty, smelly baby girls!"

The man blanched and visibly trembled. He knew only too well how cross they could get. This nubile sweet looking but thoroughly sadistic pubescent young bitch had blistered his bottom on frequent occasions, but she was nothing compared to her sister and mother. Eva laughed and gave his head a final pat before turning to busy herself at the nearby sink counter.

She first topped up the water in the bottle warmer and switched it on then opened the fridge door. There were several baby bottles in the racks of differing sizes already made up with a creamy, slightly yellowish substance within. She looked over her shoulder to where baby was staring helplessly through the bars of her cot. She picked up one of the smaller bottles and withdrew it, held it up waggling it mischievously a little. She giggled at the look of relief in his eyes which rapidly changed to horror as she swapped it for one three times the size. 

Laughing again she replaced it. "ok baby, not the big one then, baby had that for her supper before beddy bye byes didn't she." She took out a medium sized one and placed it in the bottle warmer. "Baby needs this to keep her strength up and to help her grow, doesn't she?" Baby didn't answer. Baby had learned that rhetorical questions did not require answers. Babies only had a limited understanding and should react only to basic needs. Baby had had his face slapped hard and indifferently far too many times to behave otherwise.

Eva took a circular metal holder from a cupboard and hooked it onto the outside of the cot. She then took the warmed bottle from the warmer, squeezed a bright pink rubber teat on to the end and tested it on her wrist. 'Just how babykins likes it' she said as she came back to the cot and fixed the bottle into the rack and adjusted it so that it could be reached to suck upon by the cots occupant. 

"There now, all done. Baby can have a nice long breakfast in her own time. Mummy does not have time to watch her feed today, but mummy knows how eager baby is to drink all of this delicious milk which is so good for her". The sweet tone changed to a harder note. "Baby had better drink it all down otherwise people will get cross, very cross and baby knows what happens then. Naughty Baby might even get to go down to dungeon-land again with granny..." She broke off delighting in the look of sheer petrified horror on the man's face. "Mummy would also have to let Miss Biter have some botty time when she got home on babies blistered bum bums - or maybe a swat or three on babies big ballsy bits". She laughed cruelly.

"Be good". She gave him an impish smile that somehow managed to convey a mixture of seductive teenage sexual promise coupled with sheer sadistic delight. Pouted her lips and blew him a kiss then quickly exited the room leaving the squirming man staring hopelessly at the glass bottle with its nauseating thick yellowish contents contrasting horribly with the bright pink rubber teat from whence a small yellowish bubble was forming at the small opening.

The man sighed audibly and gave a strangled half sob his eyes briefly flicking upwards towards the ever-present all seeing all hearing eye of the camera with its winking red light and then moved his head so that his mouth closed around the wretched teat. He sucked hard as he knew by long experience that was the only way to coax all the slimy thick and over sweetened muck out of the bottle. He also knew that it was now a deadly race between his intestines and the stretched elastic around his waist and thighs as to his immediate fate. If the cavalry came too early he would be in trouble for not finishing the bottle if they came late.....well, he dare not even think about that!


Chapter 3 - Fido

He heard feet scrunching on the gravel path. Two figures had emerged from the back door of the house and quickly strode across to the Range Rover that was normally parked near the stable block entrance. He could not see it from his 'run', but he knew where it was kept from his daily 'walkies'. He'd once been told to cock his leg and relieve himself on one of the rear tyres and then been severely punished for the very act he'd just been ordered to perform! 

That had been the nasty little blonde bitch. The younger daughter. She was in her school uniform today. Blazer, blouse, silly small tie, short chequered skirt, white socks, and trainers. Eva her name was. He remembered the first time he'd met her. A real cutie pie he'd thought at the time. She must have been coming home from school with her father. They had seen the broken-down car and kindly stopped to help. Kind! Yeah Gods, the devil himself and all his demons might have been kinder than the hell this family had created!

At the time, given that they were miles from anywhere the offer of help was gladly accepted. My father and I had the bonnet up and were poking around rather haphazardly, more in hope than with any real knowledge. "Sorry, no idea either", her father had admitted. "I drive them, but I 'm totally useless and clueless when it comes to mechanics. My wife can change a tyre whereas I am limited to knowing where it's kept and that's about it".

"We can tow them to the house daddy," the daughter had suggested, "they can phone from there. You can't get a phone signal out here you know".

My father waved his cellphone to say that we had already discovered that. "Actually we were on the point of starting walking and trying to find a farm or something, but it all looks quite desolate around here".

"It is, my wife is an artist and wanted a really remote location for her studio". He made a rueful face. "Strictly between ourselves, rather more than a bit too remote, eh Eva?"

Eva laughed. "Well, she does have her little secrets and needs her privacy. There's a tow rope in the emergency pack in the back. I am sure there is, and I know how to fix it, I was with mum when we towed Alice's old banger to the garage last year, remember"

She opened the Rovers rear door and rummaged around for a few minutes treating me to the sight of white panties, and a firm pert bum as her short school skirt rode up as she bent over. My father was looking as well. We caught each other's eye and quickly looked away. 

"What's happening Tom? my mother had got out of the car along with my younger sister and brother.

"This gentleman and his daughter have kindly offered to give us a tow to their house so that we can phone the breakdown service from there".

"That's very good of you", my mother said. "I was beginning to get a bit worried".

"No problem", the man said. "One thing we have learned living right out here, you have to help each other out when these little problems occur". He laughed. "Not that there are that many of us in the area".

"My mother will want you to stay and have some tea I expect", Eva said. "She does not get many visitors and always enjoys fresh company". Was it my imagination or did she stress the word 'fresh'? "It will take a while I expect for them to get here after you call". While speaking she quickly, fixed the tow rope to the eye on the front of our family saloon and then to another point under the rear of the Range Rover. 

"It will probably be better if some of you ride with us", she said taking charge again. "It will be easier to steer with fewer people in, and we have bags of room in our car".

A few minutes later we were on our way. My father was at the wheel of our car with my sister in the passenger seat whilst I went in the back of the river with my brother and mum.

"Be about ten minutes I expect", Eva's father said. "A few miles down the road and then we turn off. I'm afraid our track is a bit bumpy, keep saying we need to get it surfaced properly but it's one of those jobs that's going to cost an arm and a leg, especially way out here where no contractors like to roam. That's why we bought this beast". He patted the steering wheel. 

We spent the drive getting to know each other. Apparently, they lived in an old building that had once been the local Manor House of a private estate. Over time all the tenant farms had fallen into disuse, the land not being suited to more intensive modern methods of farming and the remote existence not very appealing to people. Eva and her father lived there with her mother and older sister. 

"Isn't it difficult for the girls?", my mother had asked. "Can't be much of social life and a long way to the shops and things."

"Oh, they don't mind. Alice and her mother have their interests, and Eva's still at school, so we do the daily run when needed. Holiday time we usually do a big fortnightly supermarket food run otherwise we are self-sufficient.

"Still it must be very boring for a young girl".

Eva smiled. "Not really, my sister has her own way of occupying her time as does mother, I like to help, and soon things will get even more entertaining for us I think". She looked at her father. "You did promise; you said next time I get one for my very own, and the first pick remember?"

Her father nodded. "You are old enough now. We said after your last birthday once the right opportunity came along and you have got everything ready very impressively".

"The power of the Internet", Eva laughed. "Everything is available with a little help from Google".

At the time as I recall we all smiled politely even though at the time we hadn't a clue as to what they were talking about. What a huge mistake.

"Anyway", Eva said, turning around to the three of us in the back. "What about you, what are you doing here? My sister is twenty, and I am sure she'll be glad of some company her own age if even for a short while. How old are you if it's not rude to ask?"

We explained that we were on a family touring holiday. Almost certainly our last as one family. (How ironic that would prove to be). I had just graduated from university at the age of 21 with a degree in mathematics. Sally, my nineteen-year-old sister, was in her second year of nursing study while my youngest brother George had just turned eighteen and was planning a backpacking gap year prior to going to uni.

"And your dad?" Eva asked. "What does he do and how old is he?"

"Eva", her father chided. "Sorry about that", he apologised. "She's been like that since she was little, always wants to know everything about people". He turned his head slightly and gave her a hard look which she indifferently ignored.

My mother laughed. "Tom is forty-six going on ten and a half like most men". She laughed again. He's a manager with one of the rail companies, still playing trains".

"Making the railways run ever more slowly". My brother quipped. "You know, the train now arriving at platform nine and three quarters won't be, because we changed the driver's rosters but forgot to send an owl with a copy to the driver".

Everyone laughed except Eva. She looked thoughtful for a second, I thought, and I could have sworn she mouthed ten and a half and then grinned rather smugly.

We came to a turning, and the car swung off the road and onto a gravel patch. A sturdy steel gate barred entry to the dirt road beyond. Eva jumped out and ran to a wooden box mounted on the right gate post with a phone symbol on it. She took out a phone and spoke for a minute or so before replacing it and opening the gate. Once we had driven through she closed it, climbed back in and we resumed our journey.

"Can't even get the post delivered or the rubbish collected", Eva's father noted. "We have a post box on the other gate post there, and I have to bring black rubbish sacks down once a week and drop them off in the same place ready for the truck to collect, even have to pay extra for that service. We put the intercom phone in, so the house can be contacted if needs be. Eva just let them know we are coming".

"Oh, you really are isolated, aren't you?"

"It has its uses", Eva and her father shared a quick amused look. "I assume you will also want to call the place you were heading for and tell them you will probably be late".

"We hadn't anything booked", my mother said. "We are very much on a go as we please tour, pubs and guest houses mostly", her voice trailed off and then she added, "I hope they can fix the car quickly, I told Tom to get it serviced, but he said it wasn't due for another three months".

Once again Eva and her father shared a glance. 

Eva's father laughed. "Oh well, worst case scenario we can probably find somewhere suitable for you to sleep if needs be". He laughed "in fact; I am almost certain my wife will insist on it".

"That's very kind", my mother said, "but we couldn't possibly impose, there are five of us after all".

"No problem", added Eva. "We do have a large house and as my father said, I know we can certainly provide suitable accommodation for each of you. In fact, it will be our pleasure to do so".

Once again father and daughter shared an amused glance. I don't know why but I had a certain uneasy premonition. I noticed that Eva seemed to be frequently twisting around in her seat to look at the car being towed, she had even adjusted the wing mirror on her side so that she could do it. Maybe she was just checking everything was alright; she had organised the tow rope after all. Her father also seemed fascinated by looking behind; he'd also moved the rear-view mirror. I don't know what he was looking at; I am sure my younger brother was probably blocking his view.

The road was certainly quite rough. No wonder they had a four-wheel drive vehicle, it would certainly be needed when the weather turned bad. Eventually after a few more bumpy bits and numerous sharp bends we saw a large grey stone house standing in its substantial grounds ahead of us. A gravelled drive ran to the front entrance but high hedges either side obscured most of the building from view.

The car swept down a gravelled drive and started to swing towards one side of the house.

"No, front door!", Eva exclaimed quickly.

The car braked sharply and skewed towards the open front entrance causing the towed car to brake equally sharply but a fraction too late. There was a dull clang from the rear.

"Sorry, force of habit going around the back", Eva's father said as he got out. We all followed him. "No real harm done, just a minor dent".

"I am most dreadfully sorry", my father said, "I should have been quicker on the brakes".

"I trust no one was hurt"? a calm, cool voice enquired.

Two women had emerged from the front entrance. Both were quite tall and carried themselves with a certain aura of confidence and competence. They were dressed alike, tight jodhpurs, riding boots and sweaters which they wore with casual, natural elegance. 

It was the older one who had spoken. A somewhat harsh-faced yet attractive woman with a mass of blue, black shoulder-length hair caught back in an Alice band. She smiled and inspected the damage.

"It's only very minor dear", her husband said. He sounded worried. I was going to park by the stable as usual but....".

"Not a very good idea under the circumstances", she said. "We will discuss that, later won't we?"

"Yes dear". Eva's father seemed slightly apprehensive I noted.

'Please forgive my husband's carelessness. We have a stable around the back, and our ponies are rather.....rather special. I would prefer they were not disturbed in any way by unexpected visitors that might chance upon them". She smiled, "my name is Patricia, welcome to my house".

"I love horses" my sister exclaimed excitedly, "I'd love to see them".

The woman looked her up and down for a moment then her eyes flickered over the rest of us, then she briefly looked to the girl next to her, who nodded. "Oh, I am sure Alice here will be only too happy to take you to the stable. I take it that you are not going to change your choice?" she addressed the last remark to her younger daughter, who quickly nodded.

Alice was almost as tall as her mother. A very pretty girl with short dark bobbed hair and a rather mischievous elfin look. "Oh yes mother, I would just love for her to meet Midnight".

"I thought so. Midnight is her prized black stallion". She said. "when she acquired him last year I was initially quite worried, I thought that he would be way too much for her to handle. I needn't have worried as it turned out".

Alice grinned. "Mother is an excellent trainer, so I learned a lot from her when it comes to handling difficult mounts! Come on, follow me, it's Sally isn't it". 


Alice led my sister towards an opening in the hedge. "Won't be long and don't worry, you know I can cope". She turned to my sister just as they reached the hedge. "I am really glad you are here I have been waiting months and months ......." Her voice faded away....

"She has indeed been looking for someone around her own age". Patricia said. "Well let's all go in and have a drink, I have prepared some refreshments for you. You might have to wait a while, our extremely rural phone line is acting up again, but it is rarely down for more than an hour or so, this way".


Chapter 4 - Alice

She stood for a moment by the back door watching her mother and sister drive away then strode briskly across the rear courtyard to the dog runs adjacent to the stable block. There were six of them constructed from heavy-duty galvanised wire mesh attached to a sturdy iron framework, each about twelve feet long, four feet wide and around six foot high. The latter dimension was purely for the convenience of the animal's owners as the occupants of the runs could not stand on their hind legs. 

At the rear of each stood the kennel block, a low stone building that contained a sleeping pen for each dog plus several utility areas. A simple flat wooden vertical hatch, just a couple of feet high allowed access from the pen to the run, raised or lowered as needed by a simple rope pulley system. No need for anything more elaborate or high tech. A narrow door secured by a simple wooden swivel toggle adjacent to the hatch provided access for the owners. The Kennels more special inhabitants might be far more intelligent than normal dogs but could no more engineer a release from their confinement than could their more conventional canine neighbours. 

Three of the low doors were raised giving access to their respective runs. One kennel was empty at the moment, and the other two closed ones belonged to Prince and Sultan, the two enormous Brazilian Mastiffs that roamed the grounds at night to discourage any intruder from taking too close an interest in things that didn't concern them. They served as a useful back up to the more modern electronic alarm and camera security systems installed. Very useful in fact. A camera could not pin a terrified trespasser to the ground and then hold them there until they could be dealt with more appropriately. 

Alice snapped her fingers with a loud click, "Kennel," she ordered sharply and without a backward look walked briskly around the side of the building towards the entrance.

Fido reacted immediately as did the occupant of the furthest run. Both scampered forward as best they could, you couldn't call it walking or running although the intent was apparently to move as quickly as possible up the runs and squeeze through the open hatches into their respective 'kennels'.

Alice was already busy in the kitchen unit preparing food. She did not bother to check if her brusque order had been obeyed. She knew it would have been. The time when any of the kennels occupants might have rebelled in any meaningful way was well past, the only danger or perhaps occasional inconvenience was when one of the real mastiffs became over excited and gave someone a quick nip. Usually at feeding time or more often when about to be allowed access to a bitch.

A glance at the wall clock showed she was running about fifteen minutes late today. Not that time mattered that much to her, but it did to the animals. 'Custom and routine' was how her mother described it. The four cardinal rules for training the human beast! Custom, routine, pain, and patience. Apply all four, and eventually, you achieved your objective. A docile, obedient, ever fearful beast that would obey its owners without hesitation. There were limits of course. Overstep them, crush out those remaining elements of individual humanity and you were into 'kicking the dead dog' territory. "Do that, and you have lost all the thrill of ownership once that spark disappears from their eyes," her mother had told her. "I know people who genuinely prefer that, but they might as well get a real dog or a horse from their local charity rescue centre. When one of my special dogs licks the hand that feeds, I want to see fear and hatred in its eyes, not mindless dumb apathy!"

She lined up four stainless steel dog bowls, each adorned with a pattern of paws and bones embossed around the rim. One can of dog food was split between two dishes to which she also added a few drops from a bottle of powerful laxative. A full can of dog food went into the other two then picked up a potato masher and gave each bowl a dozen or so mashes before dropping the implement into an adjacent sink. She opened the refrigerator, removing an opened supermarket convenience packet of cooked chicken breast pieces and a plastic bowl half full of food waste, potato, pasta, salad vegetables, bread even some apple crumble and custard. She scattered a handful of chicken pieces into the two fuller bowls and added more rather sparingly to the other two. Four generous dollops of waste food followed. A quick stir with a wooden spoon and breakfast was ready for the hounds.

She transferred the bowls to a small trolley, added a tall jug of cold water and a large plastic container half full of a mixture of dry dog food and well-known healthy breakfast cereal, then wheeled it out of the small kitchen and out into the corridor. 

The kennels that lined one side of the passage were nothing like the traditional wooden 'Snoopy dog house'. They were more akin to prison cells, square cubicles made from vertical iron bars a few inches apart. A locked door of similar iron bars giving an entry. Natural light is coming from several high, narrow barred windows set in the thick stone on the opposite wall. The concrete floors slopped slightly to the front of each kennel so that any liquid would run into a shallow trough that ran along the front of all the pens to a covered drain. 

The right-hand side of each pen was taken up by a large cage roughly four feet long, three feet wide and three feet high, partially lined with a layer of well-flattened straw. An open grill door faced into the pen allowing the owners to operate the sleeping cage door by a simple mechanical lever system with an external handle.

An excited barrage of barking and yapping greeted Alice's overdue appearance with the trolley from Prince and Sultan who paced backwards and forwards expectantly with drooling impatience. She stopped in front of the first kennel, briefly glancing around at small whiteboard affixed to the wall below the narrow window. It was deliberately fixed there so that both owner and animal could see it. 

Name: Fido.

Age: 21

Breed: Human, male bitch

Owned: 6 months

Notes: Normal food, 2/24. Daily walk. No litter tray-void on walks. Last mated - 4 days. Still capable of minor aggression.

Minimum notes but all that was needed. 'Still capable of minor aggression after six months'? That was new; her mother must have added that note yesterday evening. She opened the door into the first pen. "Quiet", she snapped at the barking youth. "So, what have you been up to Fido?" Not that she expected an answer. Indeed, it was a rhetorical question. "Been a bad bitch again?" She looked down at the pathetic creature cowering against the far wall, her lip curling in a contemptuous sneer. Its thighs and buttocks were blue-black in places and crisscrossed with a vivid pattern of darkening raised red welts, some still oozing tendrils of blood that showed the kennel cane had seen some action the evening before. 

The youth once known as Johnathon whimpered loudly, he knew better than to say anything, way better. He could still speak and think though; he wasn't an animal despite how they kept him and what they did to him, not yet anyway. In the quiet of the night and blanketing darkness, he would often murmur to himself, recite poetry or mathematical formulae, half-forgotten telephone numbers of friends and relatives, historical dates, anything to help preserve his sanity.

Looking down at him, it was a feeling you never tired of Alice thought. Her mother had introduced her to her first 'dog' many years ago when she was very young. Her mother had taken her into the kennel, put her forefinger finger to her lips and whispered, "a big secret, you must not tell anyone or, you won't be able to play with her," and pointed into the very same pen that now confined Fido. Back then the pen had contained a short, plain-faced and rather pudgy young woman of around twenty years of age. "Fit for neither bed, barn or butlering duties," her mother had remarked, so she can live out here with the guard dogs like the pathetic bitch she is!" 

Who she was or had been, where she came from, and how she came to be there Alice never knew, nor did it ever even occur to her to ask. When she yowled as she frequently did at first it was in some incomprehensible, probably East European language. She didn't even have a name. Her mother just called her bitch. Alice had called her 'Pimple', although she'd initially named her Spot because of the bad facial acne that continually erupted on her greasy sallow face and it seemed an appropriate name for a dog. Later she had decided she preferred 'Pimple' feeling it more appropriate and subtly feminine

Things had changed a little since then. Pimple had initially crawled around with two sets of steel manacles adorning her wrists and ankles with shorts chains running between them. Two further short chains ran from them to a broad, thick heavy leather belt that had circled her waist. These effectively prevented the bitch from ever standing erect ensuring that she remained permanently on hands and knees unless curled up in her basket.

Fido garbed, no equipped, not too dissimilarly. The wide belt around his midriff was now more of a cross between a belt and a short corset. The heavy black leather held his belly taught and flat and fastened at his back with several straps fed into ratchet fasteners. Every so often the spanner that hung beneath the whiteboard was used to take it in another painful notch. Her mother had a real penchant for slender waists! The dogs, ponies, house 'staff', even her father wore a similar device although her fathers was unlikely to be anything like as restrictive.... not unless he seriously pissed his wife off. It also could be removed for showering and bathing, unlike the 24/7 devices the rest wore.

Alice grinned. Given half a chance her mother would probably even have corseted the two real mastiffs had the prospect been practicable and not involved a fair degree of risk to life and assorted limbs! Thank god she and her sister took after their mother and didn't need to resort to artificial aids to keep in trim.

The manacles and chains had gone, replaced now with bespoke harness items made by a highly respected leather company based in Northern Germany. Most of their products manufactured for the high-end general leather market, bags, belts, coats, etc. Additionally, a more discrete section of the business fabricated a wide variety of quality bondage and similar restrictive items for fetish aficionados. An even smaller offshoot provided a much more specialised service, restraint items made to particular requirements for specific customers with unique needs. Pieces made to the highest standard from the best leather and almost always incorporating a ridged or flexible skeleton of thin ultra-toughened steel reinforcing. These were not your eBay cheapies designed for playful consensual bedroom fun where one good tug would ensure immediate release. These highly expensive items, generally no more substantial than a superior pair of leather ladies' gloves had a strength ratio a thousand times stronger than any online 'play set'.

Like Pimple, Fido was also denied any means of standing erect. However, no clumsy clanking chains and dangling padlocks adorned his youthful limbs. His legs were doubled up, a two-inch black leather band secured ankle to thighs, thin, flexible and yet wholly binding. Supple enough not to cut off any circulation but impossible to remove due to a small ratchet fastening system that mirrored the one on his waist belt. Tightened on a regular basis as his muscles slowly atrophied under its relentless grip.

Its larger cousin fitted snuggly above, and below each knee, this time the restraint resembled the sort of 'stump' harness an amputee might once have worn to protect it or to assist in the fitting of an old-fashioned type of prosthetic limb. The thin reinforced leather 'sock' moulded tightly for six or seven inches around his bent knee and the comparison to a prosthetic limb was very apt for it terminated in a solid rubber foot piece, in this case, an oversized replica of a dog's paw.
Around his neck was fastened a broad collar of stiff harness leather, worn relatively loose to allow him sideways movement but limited the ability to drop his chin thereby making him hold his head at a more elevated and uncomfortable angle. Not that it bothered him too much now. Like the other restraints, he'd fought it at first but had slowly adjusted to them in as far as any human being could. They didn't even need to use the shock system built into it. In the early days, its use had frequently initiated a total collapse, writhing in absolute screaming agony whenever they triggered it. Of late its use had diminished due to their fondness for various physical modes of punishment. The bitches seemed to find that far more entertaining! His resistance had buckled during the second month, beaten and zapped, half-starved, bound, abused and humiliated. The only one who regularly activated the shock collar these days was that little Bitch Eva. 
Alice opened the iron door and placed one of the lesser filled food bowls on the floor and at the same time added water to a chipped brown ceramic bowl ignoring the film of dust, dead flies and other detritus already present. She snapped her fingers again and pointed down at the food bowl. "Eat bitch; I want to see my face in the sheen at the bottom of that bowl when I come back from the stables. Otherwise, you'll howl for me just like you must have done for my mother last night!"

He needed no second bidding. He'd scurried forward on hands and knees the moment his owner's fingers moved and plunged his face into the food bowl even as the echo of her finger snap reverberated in his ears.
Alice loved the primitive way the dogs ate, just like the animal they were. Muzzles face down in the bowl, slurping, chomping and gulping it down just as they'd been taught. Not that they had any choice, no cutlery here and no hands or fingers to use them. Fido's arms ended in stiff leather pouches and mittens secured to his wrist, his hands sticking out almost at right angles to take his weight, his fingers trapped and useless, only his 'claws' peeping out, so they could be trimmed as needed. Some owners Alice knew preferred the bent elbow restraint akin to the knee/thigh ones Fido wore. Fine for lap dogs but not very practical. They could only ever waddle on their elbows and knees extremely slowly when out walking, throw a ball, and you had time to read a book almost before they'd retrieved it!

She raised her booted foot and deliberately placed it against the back of his head and pushed down firmly. The animal made a sort of 'mumf' noise as his face was forced into the sloppy contents of the feeding bowl and mashed up against the steel bottom. She held him for a second and then removed her long slender leg. He emerged from the bowl spluttering with food smeared all over his face. Alice loved these little cameo moments. Almost as much fun as giving a good flogging - nearly. "Wipe your filthy muzzle clean when your finished bitch you've got your food all over it, messy hound".

One of her regrets was that so far no one had produced a decent useable headpiece for the dogs. Those that were on the market involved far too much work in putting on and taking off, so they could eat or use their tongues usefully. Inevitably the muzzle part extended to far forward so that although they could look the part, functionality was compromised. Then there was also the problem of facial fur on some of the stupid beasts. They never got shaved. Once a month they received major grooming, bath, 'claws trimmed, facial fur sheared short with a sharp pair of scissors likewise head fur, etc. Weekly just the thorough tooth brushing, tail change and a squirt with the hose plus the stiff bristle brush to remove any accumulated shit from their tails area. Maybe a half face mask she mused. They could have cute floppy ears of different sizes, and it would still leave their faces clear to eat and grow more of their wretched facial fuzz as well as ensuring you could see their so so sad eyes. Talking of tail cleaning...

"Wag" she ordered, snapping her fingers again. Fido reacted instantly. He quickly twisted around to present his rear to her and then obligingly wiggled his arse backwards and forwards so that the short rubberised imitation dogs tail his plugged arse sported wagged back and forth. He realised as he performed the hated humiliating act that he'd been remiss earlier and not been frantically doing the same to greet her along with the excited imitation barking. Maybe she hadn't noticed.

Actually, Alice had noticed the omission but chose to ignore it on this occasion. 'Let them have their little victories from time to time', her mother had once said. 'Give the beasts the odd inch occasionally and then snatch a foot back with a touch of the cane later!'

Such power Alice thought watching the frantic movements of the imitation tail wiggling so delightfully before her. She, standing there in her designer jeans and tight sweater, expensive heeled boots, clean, scented and fresh from a recent hot shower, well rested, well fed and in total control able to exercise bountiful kindness or merciless cruelty on that sad squirming smelly wretch before her. To know that she in part was responsible for his condition and to feel neither qualms nor guilt about it nor any degree of sympathy was so utterly delicious.

"Present - stay".

Fido stiffened, the wagging immediately ceased as he pushed down on his front paws, elbows locked, body raised high, chin up, bent and bound rear limbs spread apart the required distance. He waited trembling slightly as he heard a familiar rustle. She was pulling on her gloves, the thin leather pair she always carried in a pocket, and that was usually not good news. She was going to handle him, touch him or beat him, maybe both. 

Alice flexed her fingers for a moment to savour the feeling of the expensive thin slightly stretchy leather over her long-manicured digits. She rarely handled an animal with bare hands like her mother and sister frequently did. Helpless, quivering animal flesh was just the same anyway, a delight to touch, feel, fondle, squeeze, mark regardless of your preference. Must take after Aunty Claire, she had a predilection for long kid leather opera gloves.

She bent down and reached between the creature's buttocks, a spasm of disgust momentarily marring her pretty features. One of the drawbacks to human hounds was their physical inability to 'lick' themselves clean. The rubber tail had a thin flexible spring at its core; it bobbled before her eyes as his buttocks automatically clenched and flinched at her touch. A sizeable flanged butt plug held it firmly captive in his anus the tail affixed to the top part and curled upwards along its eighteen-inch length. The plug was partly hollow; a small rotary control allowed an aperture in the flat base under the tail to revolve either open or closed. A leather-clad finger moved the switch so that the device opened, and a thin dribble of disgusting smelling liquid dribbled out.

"Filthy creature," she spat out and sharply smacked his defenceless right buttock with a leather palm. Even as he yelped and bucked the same hand quickly reached roughly between his legs and grabbed at his genitals. His balls swung free, but his penis was encased inside a small curved ridged red plastic tube that prevented any form of an erection. Someone had written the word 'bitch' on it in faded black felt tip pen letters down the length of the tube. 

"Your shit chute's now open Fido, but don't you dare do anything, let out so much as one teeny drop before walkies and I'll ask mother to let me make you a real bitch!". She grasped his balls firmly to emphasise the threat. She squeezed a little harder making him yelp and then whine, one from paw scratching frantically in the dirt of the floor. 

Alice stood up and gave him a sharp kick in the ribs. "Eat the rest bitch," she laughed and added, "I put a double dose of poo poo juice in your food, so doggie is going to want to go walkies quite soon I expect." She laughed again, and he heard the steel door clang shut as she left the pen to attend to the other inmates. 

Fido waited for a second, then wiped a rubber paw over his face removing some of the food smeared on it then reluctantly dropped his face back into the steel bowl. A double dose! He had no chance.


Chapter 5 - Sally

She moved restlessly in the stall. There was no clock, nor could she see outside the building but after six months that instinct perhaps possessed by all living creatures had told her it was time to arise if you could call it that. 

In a previous life that was now nothing but a distant treasured memory, she had never been an enthusiastic greeter of the new day. A comfortable bed, soft, warm duvet and the snooze function on a nearby alarm clock had been her allies against the necessary and often obligatory demands that each new dawn would bring.

True, she now had another 'bed' ....of sorts. A vast improvement on the first three months when sleeping semi-upright perched on a narrow wooden plank set against the rough wooden wall of the stall had been the only option allowed. She shuffled around slightly to look at her new piece of furniture, her steel-shod hoof boots scuffing the light covering of sand, straw, and sawdust that carpeted the stall. Her movements hampered by the short hobble chain clipped from one boot top to the other and the long drooping tether leading from her collar to an eyebolt set into the stone wall. 

Bed! She would have spat in disgust at the very notion had it not been for the leather bit and tongue pad in her mouth effectively preventing not only that but also any form of comprehensible speech. About the only thing she could do was drool. In the early days she had drooled a lot, she still did but not as much. It was inevitable if one had a variety of rubber or leather bars wedged in your mouth 24/7. At least the overnight one was not as hard or as tight as the daytimes ones were. Strangely enough that thin, almost constant skein of saliva between her restrained mouth and breasts had been a constant source of embarrassment to her in the early days. Odd, given that apart from her revealing harness she was always butt naked and frequently suffering infinitely far worse humiliations than displaying a bit of extra spittle!

The bed was little more than a narrow plank about two feet wide and six long. At the bottom a small ledge just wide enough to rest both booted feet on and that was it. No padding, no memory foam, no springs, just hard varnished wood. It was propped up at an angle a bit steeper than forty-five degrees. She still couldn't lay horizontally of course, but it did mean a considerable reduction on the pressure on her feet which had been the only alternative to that butt busting narrow plank. She was accustomed now to shuffling on and off it and sleeping at an angle, but initially, it was sheer heaven to shift some of her weight a little onto that inclined support.

They had said it was a privilege to have it and only allowed it because of her condition. Well, to be precise they hadn't actually told her that. They never told any of them anything, just issued orders and expected them to be obeyed instantly. She still had ears though that worked and passed information to her brain when she caught snippets of conversation. Even that wasn't allowed in this terrible place. How many times had she heard the phrase "Animals don't think," usually followed by the crack of a whip or crop and a strangled scream, all too often hers!

Her condition; she was always aware of it now. She could no longer see her feet, or rather the horrible hoof boots that covered them. She had not seen her feet since they'd first put those awful boots on her, not even when they occasionally removed them to check her feet and cut her toenails, 'Trimming her hoofs' as they described it in their ridiculous horse terminology. She was inevitably fastened to a wall by a short lead while they stood behind her as she obediently raised first one leg and then the other her when tapped with a riding crop so that they could attend to her feet.

Condition? She was continually aware of it. Her swollen belly was now protruding further than her once perky young breasts had done. How long till, she did not know, had no means of knowing. The bump had grown a lot recently; it terrified her. Likewise her swelling breasts. This hellhole would have been unbearable without the added complication of being pregnant and a pregnancy that had been deliberately engineered through repeated rape! Her frame shook as she gave vent to a long-stifled sob as her mind drifted back to the day she had first arrived in this evil place.
"I love horses; I'd love to see them". That's what she 'd foolishly said as Alice led her away from her family, around the corner of the old house and towards the old red brick stable building. That was the last time she had seen all her family together, standing happily with their new hosts in the golden glow of a late summer evening. She had seen some of them since but in an infinitely less happy state.

"Guard dogs," Alice had remarked nodding in the direction of some wired runs. "Asleep now. Mother likes to keep them for security as we are somewhat isolated here, plus she's into breeding them".

"Do you get many puppies?"

"Hardly", Alice had laughed, "the bitches are not generally very suitable, I think it's more the...the mechanics that she enjoys".

"I don't understand?"

"Don't worry about it; I think you're going to find my breeding program much more entertaining. I know I will!"

"You breed horses here?" she asked following Alice through the door to the stables.

Alice had laughed again and pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Not yet, my mother has a friend who's seriously into pony breeding, and I have always wanted to do the same once the right opportunity arose. This way." 

The barn was a substantial weathered brick building which no doubt had once held many mounts and carriage horses plus the conveyances that the latter would pull for the convenience of the gentry. Alice tapped a few numbers into a keypad and then pushed open one of the stout black painted double doors and led the way into the windowless building.

It was dark after the bright evening sunshine outside, and it took a few seconds for her eyes to acclimatise a little to the gloom. The inside of the building was a very large single square room, open to the roof rafters and skylights. There were numerous overlapping smells, hay and fresh sawdust mingled with others less savoury, urine, stale body odour, faeces. There was an extensive open area in front of them, and at the far side, there were several light carriages neatly lined up against end wall, mostly small with oversized bicycle type wheels. 

"Stalls all down the left, utility, wet-room and tack areas along the right," Alice said with an indicative wave of her hand. She grinned. "Also, a punishment area for the less obedient animals as needed!"


"This way, come and meet Midnight". Alice walked over to an opening on the right. "Take a peek", she invited with a gesture.

Confused and curious Sally obediently walked across and through the doorway into a smaller room and gasped aloud. Numerous images hit her one after the other and none of them pleasant or readily comprehensible. 

"Wha.....what....what is this?" she had gasped staring at the contents of the dimly illuminated room in the fading light from the open door behind them. Alice roughly brushed past her rudely elbowing her aside and casually flicking on a light switch as she did so. 

"This," said Alice indicating the man now blinking at them in the harsh white light, "is Midnight, my prize stallion and this", she added lifting something down from the wall "is the stable cane. It's used like this." She swished it quickly through the air so that it made a whistling sound and then raising the long thick bamboo rod high brought it down with an unpleasant sounding crack across the man's naked buttocks. The man made an animal like sound and jumped violently within the tight the bonds that held him.

Sally just stared open-mouthed, and horror-struck. The room was not all that large; one wall lined with hooks from which dangled a variety of wicked looking floggers, canes and whips and other equally unpleasant looking things she could not begin put a name too. That was just a small part of it; there was all manner of ominous looking straps, ropes, plugs, phalluses and other leather or metal devices. 

A couple of sinister-looking black metal cages stood at the back of the room. A tall, thin one and the other small and squat similar to those people would use for small animals when visiting their vets, only this one was somewhat bigger and could take a large dog, or.... or....

The cane hissed through the air again, and once more the wretched man attempted to make a noise and writhed against the restraints holding him. "I'd only just started giving this stupid animal yet another obedience lesson when mother called me over," Alice stated jabbing at the man savagely with the end of the cane. "and I always finish what I start don't I"? she jabbed him again.

Sally gasped again her eyes bulging in disbelief. What was this? All the torture stuff, the frightening cages and this man.... had she suddenly found herself in some kinky sex place; she was a bit naive about such things but not that naive. She was a nurse after all and fashionable women's magazines these days had moved on from knitting patterns and the like.

She stood almost petrified staring wide-eyed down at the helpless near naked man before her. He was strapped securely across a padded frame, held down by a broad strap across his back, legs apart and his strangely booted feet secured to the legs of the frame. He raised his head, his eyes caught and held hers, gleaming white against his glistening black skin. They appealed silently for help. He couldn't speak. His mouth was open, but something like a gag had been forced between his teeth, various straps covered his whole head. She saw other harness-like straps around his body and frighteningly, no arms, at least that was her first thought until she realised that the leather hump above the strap that secured him to the bench was where his arms must be.

For what seemed like an eternity the two stared at each other, the one pleading silently, the other transfixed with horror. The man was not that old, probably only early twenties, big built and very muscular she sub-consciously noted, a bit like that cute West Indian porter and amateur boxer her bestie had dated during their first year's training. Her eyes opened even wider as she took in something else. The man's buttocks, back, and thighs were covered in a ragged pattern of nasty crisscrossing welts and purple bruises visible even on his ultra-dark skin. Some clearly older and others very fresh, still oozing thin rivulets of bright red blood. 

She had broken contact with the man, distracted by a movement from Alice, the girl casually tossed the cane onto a shelf and picked something else up. Sally suddenly found that her stasis had evaporated and promptly bolted back through the open doorway. She almost reached the still open stable door when something hit her in the back, two somethings, tiny dart pricks and then... Pain, awful, agonising unendurable pain. She had screamed and fallen to the floor writhing in the dirt. Only vaguely did she see Alice approach taser in one hand and a long cattle prod in the other. Alice stood looking down at her for a moment and then casually moving a dial on the cattle prod with her thumb placed the device against her victim's bare midriff. "Welcome to your new life little Filly," she said squeezing the trigger. Sally shrieked once and then went limp as all the lights went out.

"I think you just got lucky Midnight," Alice called over her shoulder. "I'm gonna be kind of busy for a few hours before we get to resume our little obedience reminder. Then again," she muttered to herself, "maybe the flogging bench won't be vacant much for a while!"

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | next

NickHC 2019

Report this story