Maddy Becomes A Pony Girl

An eBook By Paul Blades.

There had been no need to knock out Sharon during the ride from Altoona to Herman and Louise's farm. Herman quickly subdued her and had bindings around her wrists behind her back and on her ankles. There was a compartment built in the side of the van just big enough to hold a gagged and bound female. There was almost no room for movement and it was heavily insulated. A small pump blew in fresh air while a small exhaust drew it out. Even if stopped by the police, unless the van was searched thoroughly, there was little risk of detection. Years ago, Herman had had a girl choke on her own vomit after knocking her out with chloroform. You never knew when the girls ate last. He would not risk it again.

For two days the nineteen-year-old Sharon had knelt shivering with fear in the damp cold of her prison. She remembered well the sensation of being lowered head first down the stairs, her eyes covered with a blindfold. She remembered being stripped and collared, the bracelets affixed to her hands, the confining link between them established. She had cowered, naked, kneeling at the feet of her kidnappers, too afraid to beg for freedom. The first night all that had happened was that her breasts and belly were manhandled a bit by the man, his rough, calloused hands scraping her tender skin. She felt the bite of the cattle prod the next day when she refused to eat. She felt it again when she had broken down, whining and pleading to be released. She had felt it a third time when she protested, meekly, the need to use the small trough below her cage for her wastes. She had learned to avoid punishment at all costs.

On the second day, the man had dragged her head through a small hinged and locked window in the cage and fastened her by the back of the neck to the cage's top. He had pulled out his wizened dick and commanded her to suck it. With tears in her eyes she had complied.

The old lady had left her alone until this morning. It was the woman who wiped her ass and her vagina, three times a day. Her nerves had loosened her bowels to a liquid discharge. The old lady brought food and filled the water bottle strung above the cage's top. Just enough of a nozzle peeped into the cage that Sharon could fix her lips on it and suck the water out, like a hamster. It was Louise who had twice given Sharon a taste of the cattle prod.

This morning, Sharon sensed something was up. The old man had been in early and gotten a blow job from her. The woman, whom Sharon assumed was the old man's wife, was a hefty, almost corpulent woman. She had strong arms and legs and broad shoulders, as if she had done heavy physical labor all of her life. She had brownish gray hair, drawn back into a bun. Her eyes were sunken deep in a long and narrow face. Her chin jutted out and there was a huge mole on her face just to the right and above of her nostrils. Years of hard living had carved their punishment on her face.

She had been curt and brusque with Sharon, telling her to retrieve her dinner bowl or ordering her to turn around so her rear and cunt could be attended to. This morning, after wiping the twin openings and applying a soothing lotion there, the old lady's hand remained stroking Sharon's pussy. Sharon was bent over, her head on the mat that served as a floor to the cage, her legs spread. She knew not to display any resistance to the old lady, who seemed more than twice her size - and she always carried the cattle prod, or had quick access to it.

The hand gently petted the twin lips surrounding her love channel and she felt fingers lightly playing with the little nub at the top. Against her own will, Sharon's pussy began to lubricate. As it did, the woman inserted her fingers deep inside, probing, rubbing against the top and walls of the vagina. Sharon let out a little squeak as feelings of mortification and shame overcame her. Was this why she was being held? Would the sexual abuse get more demanding until she became the old couple's sexual plaything?

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