Saving Amy Part 5: Showtime free porn video

SAVING AMY PART 5: SHOWTIME "So you will tell me if she does anything stupid, right?" Even through the tinny speaker, there were clear overtones of concern in the question. Alyssa glanced down at the phone on the dressing table, then resumed brushing her lustrous hair. "Sure," she replied, but then sighed. "Only..." "Only what?" Alyssa hesitated. "Only, by 'stupid', I assume you mean something other than letting herself get fucked by fifteen horny old dudes and swallowing so much cum that she threw up all the way home?" There was silence on the other end of the line. Alyssa was expecting some kind of outburst about insolence, but when the question came it was put more quietly than she expected. "You didn't say anything about throwing up in your report?" Alyssa closed her eyes, involuntarily recalling the stench of vomit in the limousine that had ferried the sissy schoolgirls back to the clinic from their most recent assignment. It had been strong enough to override even the smell of the sweat and spunk in which the four of them and their skimpy uniforms were completely drenched. "No," she murmured, then added more loudly, "No, I didn't - sorry. It was just that the client was really happy and Tiffany ... well, she seemed to get over it okay and I didn't want to, you know, worry you or anything ..." "It's not a question of being worried," said Nancy sharply, though once again her tone seemed to suggest otherwise. "I just want to be sure that we're not going to have any trouble with one of our prize new assets. Tiff's still transitioning into her new role and it's a lot harder for her, you know, compared to ... some others." Compared to me, you mean, thought Alyssa, though she didn't say it. It had been different for her, of course. Always an effeminate boy, she had started dressing in female clothes when she was 11, covertly for many years, but then openly after leaving home at 17. She couldn't remember the last time she had worn male clothing. But even though she could and did pass as a woman, she had no interest in making the transition. Indeed she'd made a living working as a cam model on a website that specialised in femboys who, underneath the makeup and lingerie, were demonstrably still male. Nor had she found it particularly hard to make the transition to the kind of perverted (but very highly paid) escort work in which her current employer, the Sissyfuckers Club, specialised. She had been approached after taking part in an enthusiastic threesome for some of the website's higher paying clients. Her partners on that occasion, the petite twins Melanie and Vanessa, had joined the Club at the same time. Indeed they too had been part of the recent assignment that Tiffany had found so traumatic. Not that Alyssa could blame the new girl, whom she'd been ordered to live with and mentor. Alyssa hadn't been able to get Tiffany to say anything about how she'd been recruited. But the more experienced crossdresser was positive that it had not been voluntary. In the two years she had been working for the Club, she had come across a number of sissified employees like Tiffany, all of them damaged in some way, none able to fully enjoy the sexual acts they were forced to perform - but all quite clearly very valuable to the Club, given the willingness of some clients to enjoy (and pay for) that extra level of humiliation. Opening her eyes again, Alyssa realised that she hadn't been paying attention. "I'm sorry ma'am, what was that again?" she asked as contritely as she could. Nancy, who described herself as the Club's Head of Sissy Management, but almost certainly had a more conventional job title, made a little sound of irritation and repeated her question. "So she's been sleeping okay since that job for the PTS?" "Seems to have been," said Alyssa. "And she's sleeping with you now, yes?" "That's right, just as you ordered. She didn't object - didn't even ask why, so I didn't need to invent any excuse. She just did what she was told." "She's good at that," murmured Nancy, almost to herself, then added, "And has she shown any interest in, ah, having sex with you?" "Nope," answered Alyssa, "sticks to her own side of the bed." This was true, although she failed to mention that she had twice tried but failed to persuade the troubled young sissy to engage in what Alyssa termed "a bit of distraction." Truth be told, she herself had been surprised by the attraction she felt to her new flatmate. She had only ever been interested in guys, even if she was able to tolerate (and fake an enthusiasm for) the kind of "lesbian" acts that she was often ordered to perform with other sissies. Tiffany was somehow different, though she had decided that it might be better to keep that from Nancy. "Okay, well -" started Nancy, but at that moment Alyssa heard the front door open. "Sorry," she said, cutting in, "gotta go. Tiff's back." "All right," said Nancy, "but I want a full briefing on today's job, okay? And next time Alyssa, don't leave anything out, understand? You'll both get a text soon about your next job." And with that she terminated the call. Alyssa put down her brush and headed downstairs to greet her flatmate. "Hi babe," she called, doing her best to keep her tone as light as possible, "how did today go?" She was more than a little anxious about what state Tiffany might be in. Not only had she gone out on her first Si Fu Club job since playing schoolgirl for a large group of lecherous teachers, but it had been her first time out unaccompanied in the daylight. She'd been told that rather than being picked up and taken to the clinic, she'd need to make her own way to an office in the business district across town. She'd also been asked to do her own makeup - something she could manage pretty well know, though Alyssa had helped with some finishing touches. "It was okay," called Tiffany from the kitchen. As Alyssa entered, she found her friend pulling a bottle of wine from the fridge. Going to a cupboard she pulled out a glass, and then shot a quizzical look in Alyssa's direction. "Yes please," said Alyssa. Tiffany retrieved another glass and sat down at the table, where Alyssa joined her. As she watched a liberal amount of riesling being sloshed into the glasses, she tried to gauge her flatmate's state of mind. Tiffany wasn't smiling, but neither did she seem anywhere near as fraught as she had been after the last job. Nor did her hair and clothes seem especially disheveled - although her hands wwere noticeably shaking as she handed over one glass and took a lengthy draught from the other. "Okay sounds ... all right?" said Alyssa cautiously. Tiffany grimaced. Staring into her drink, she said in a flat tone, "The trip there and back was pretty horrible. I was sure everyone around me on the train could see that I was really a guy. All the men seemed to be staring at me - some of the women too." Alyssa couldn't help but chuckle. "Are you serious? Of course they were staring at you! I mean, you have seen yourself in a mirror, right? You look amazing!" Tiffany grimaced again, but she didn't argue the point. She'd been told to aim for a "hot secretary" look and - once again with some assistance from the experienced crossdresser with whom she was now living - amply succeeded. The outfit was a simple one: a black woollen top, with modestly sized false tits to help fill out the bra underneath, a short, cream-coloured skirt and matching pumps with extravagantly high heels. But what made it work was perhaps Tiffany's best feature - her shapely legs, wjhich had been honed and tanned bythe experts at the clinic to the point where they looked simply stunning, even without hose of any sort. "So what about the job itself?" pressed Alyssa. Tiffany finished her wine with a gulp and started pouring herself another one. "Sorry, trying to wash out the taste of ... well, I'm sure you can guess." For the first time, she looked at Alyssa directly. "It was - well, as these things seem to go, it was not too bad really." She took another sip and continued. "So when I reached the office where I'd been told to go, it was a firm of accountants. There was a note at reception telling me I was going to be temping for a Mr Barker and I had to do exactly what he said. Turns out he's a youngish guy, maybe mid-20s." "Good looking?" asked Alyssa with a mischievous grin. Tiffany flushed. "I guess - if you like that type. Which, uh, I gather you do ..." A faint smile flickered at the corner of her lips and she continued. "So, he was very friendly. Got me to type up some notes which, you know, I can touch type, so that was okay. Then did a bit of filing, which wasn't too challenging, made him a coffee, more typing ... and before you know it, it was time for lunch. And I'm thinking, well, when's it going to happen? So he insisted on taking me out for lunch, to help me settle in he said, and we had a nice meal with some very good wine. But then it was back to the office again, More filing and typing ..." "But he did want something more, right? Unless this was just a test to see if you could play a secretary role?" "You know, I was beginning to think that, when finally he calls me in and drops some papers under his desk. He asks me pick them up, so I'm down on my knees, and he just says 'Gabriella' - which was the name I was told to use - and I look up, and he's got his dick out! 'Just take care of that for me, will you?' he says. So I start sucking him off." "And that's all the job was - just a blowjob? Or was there more?" asked Alyssa. "Well, yes and no. Cos I've only just got started when the door bursts open and in march three older guys. Partners of the firm, I gathered. They told him they were fed up with him taking advantage of the temps, and he was fired. From the sound of it, he was notorious for asking for a little bit extra from his secretaries. The pretty ones anyway." Tiffany blushed. "Wow, so you were just there as bait, right? So they could catch him at it." "Well, not just bait." Tiffany looked embarrassed. "Before he went, they told him that they wouldn't reveal the real reason for his sacking if he agreed to some immediate punishment. Which ... turned out to involve him having to get down on his knees under the desk and giving me a blowjob. Or at least, he had to get me hard. Which, you know, I'd taken one of those magic pills, so ... And then they had me fuck him over his own desk. While the three of them watched." "No way!" exclaimed Alyssa, wide-eyed. "So did the young guy know what you were packing before he hit on you?" "Shouldn't think so. Not from the yell he let out when he pulled down my panties! He wanted to back out of the deal, but the partners told him he'd never work in the industry again if he didn't take his medicine. So he had to go through with it. Squealed like a pig though when I broke in his tight ass ..." "Sounds like you think he might have it coming? Literally and figuratively, I guess." Alyssa giggled and this time Tiffany did crack a smile. But her face became serious again as she said, "Well, maybe. I certainly didn't have any sympathy for him. But don't go thinking that those partners were any better. When I'd finished filling up Mr Barker, and he left, dripping cum everywhere, they told me that since they'd paid for my services, they might as well get their money's worth." She sighed and drained her glass once more. "So they each wanted blowjobs of their own, of course. Seriously, men! Though at least they let me use the executive bathroom to clean up afterwards ..." The two continued talking and drinking well into the evening, eventually tumbling into bed more than a little intoxicated. Without saying anything, Tiffany curled herself up tightly against Alyssa"s body, her arm around her flatmate. In the dark of the bedroom, she couldn't see the smile on Alyssa's face as the two drifted off to sleep ... It was two weeks before the next summons came from the Club. This time, the two sissies were required to present themselves at the clinic, where they found Vanessa and Melanie waiting for them. "Looks like they've got the band back together again!" cracked Alyssa. "Strange there's no uniform though," commented Melanie thoughtfully. They'd been told simply to put their hair in a high ponytail and to wear stay-up fishnet stockings and their highest platform heels. Beyond that, the choice of clothes was their own. All four had opted for short skirts, paired with a mixture of blouses. With her platinum blonde hair growing out, Tiffany's "ponytail" wasn't too much more than a topknot, but the others all had lengthy tresses that fell below their necks. "No information about the client either," put in Vanessa, her brunette sister. She pulled a face. "Wonder what that means?" "We'll find out soon enough," said Alyssa cheerfully. But she too was wondering what might be in store. The more experienced escorts such as her and the twins usually had a lot more to go on when they were sent out on a job. There was clearly something different about this one ... They were still none the wiser when they piled into a limousine for what turned out to be a very lengthy drive which took them well into the countryside. It was late morning by the time that they turned down a small side road, before stopping at an impressive set of steel gates. Behind them a driveway curved away into the trees, while on either side was a sizeable wall with spikes on top. The sissy escorts were told to get out and wait, and with that the car drove away. After a few minutes, they heard the approach of what sounded like horse- drawn carts. And soon enough two carriages appeared on the driveway and clattered towards the gates. As they approached, however, the four were startled to realise that the carriages were not in fact being pulled by horses - but by men. Or at least what had once been men Each carriage had two men attached to it by an elaborate set of traces and harnesses. Alyssa was stunned to see that the men's heads were encircled by bridles, including what looked like steel bits in their mouths. The bridles were in turn connected to long sets of reins held by the carriage drivers. Besides skull caps with brightly feathered plumes, hoof-like black boots and the harnesses that bound their torsos and pinned their arms, they wore no other clothing. But their hair hung long and mane-like down their backs and they also appeared to have long tails attached where their harnesses passed between their legs and bisected their naked buttocks. Two of them, Alyssa noticed, sported curiously distended bellies. However, while all that was challenging enough, what really shocked the onlooking sissies was that when the carriages came to a halt, the "horses" started nickering - there simply was no other word for it - and stamping their feet. This only ended when their driver descended from the carriage and popped some kind of treat in their mouths. "Magnificent, aren't they?" called one of the drivers, approaching the gate, which swung open on some hidden command. "I broke them and trained them myself." She was a slightly built woman in her 20s, with close cropped, jet-black hair and an expression of sardonic amusement that somehow seemed permanently affixed. "Do you like them?" "They're, um, very striking," answered Alyssa, her eyes returning unbidden to the sight of the men-horses standing in the traces, chewing their treats and pawing gently at the ground. None of them, she noticed, were looking at the visitors. "They're well behaved too," she added, before asking the question that she was sure was also foremost in the mind of her fellow escorts. "Who are they and how do they come to be, you know, trained as horses?" "Mostly they're petty criminals. The local judge - you may meet her today by the way - gives some of the men she convicts the option of serving a shorter sentence here, rather than a longer one at a more, ah, conventional prison. But we also get a few volunteers. I'm the head trainer here at Selvey Manor - the name's Penny, but you can call me ma'am." Alyssa blinked. "Of course ma'am." She introduced the others. Penny nodded to each of them curtly. "You two twins can go in the other carriage with Selina. Tiffany and Alyssa, you're with me. But before any of you get on board, you can take all your clothes off please, except your stockings and shoes. There's a bag strapped to the back of each carriage. Your kit can go in there." The sissies glanced at one another, but obeyed without protest. There were a number of cardinal rules for working at the Sissyfuckers Club - and not questioning or challenging the client was almost as important as preserving their (and the Club's) confidentiality. Shivering slightly, even in the warm air, Alyssa and her flatmate clambered aboard the open carriage and sat down on a cushioned bench. They watched in grim fascination as Penny got into the driver's seat in front of them and picked up both the reins and a long-handled whip. Mercifully, the latter remained unused as a twitch of the reins sent the men-horses into motion. With a jerk, the carriage began moving down the dirt track. After the initial lurch into motion, the ride was surprisingly smooth. The men-horses trotted in unison, until a signal from Penny persuaded them to lengthen their stride and they began to run, pulling the carriage at a surprisingly fast clip. "They get exercised like this every day," called Penny over her shoulder, "and sometimes we take them out for competitions. These are two of my very best horses - they've won quite a few prizes. They get the pick of the stables and extra grooming because of it." "They live in stables?" exclaimed Tiffany. "Oh yes," answered Penny with a laugh. "Can't have animals sleeping in the house, can we?" There was a reflective silence, before Alyssa asked, "I noticed a couple of the, er, horses, had swollen stomachs. Are they all right?" "Perfectly fine," replied the trainer. "They're just mares who've been bred by one of our stallions." "Stallions?" repeated Alyssa incredulously. "Any of our incoming prisoners who are sufficiently well hung are segregated and given a special training regime. We pump them up with hormones, give them treatments to augment their length - I think our biggest is around 17 inches - but restrain them from any premature discharges. By the time it's breeding season they have balls as big as melons and a carnal appetite to match." The sissies could see Penny grinning viciously as she added, "it's quite a sight when we turn one of them loose on a group of our mares. In fact we have special viewing sessions, both in person and online. We make enough money from those to pay for the upkeep of the manor. And that's before anything we get from sales." "I can imagine," said Alyssa weakly. She had done enough work for the Club to know that there were a lot of rich perverts out there. Some people, it seemed, would pay for anything. "But, the stomachs? You're not telling us they're actually, you know, pregnant?" Penny chuckled. "That would be quite something, wouldn't it? Maybe when the technology advances a little ... But no, for any of the mares who've been serviced by the stallions, we get them to ingest a device that steadily inflates in their stomach, to simulate the look and feel of being impregnated. When the time comes, it shrinks down to pass through the bowel, then reinflates to about half its full size before it can be expelled through the anus. I'm told it's almost as painful as giving birth - especially for those whose rectal passages haven't fully recovered from their stallion's attention ..." The rest of the ride passed in horrified silence. Soon enough, the carriages pulled up outside a large and impressive mansion. A lsizeable group of women were waiting for their arrival. Although their ages and clothing varied, they each seemed to have an indefinable hauteur. Most held drinks, which were being served by what on closer inspection turned out to be men in maids' costumes. The maids were suitably subservient, but wore only very basic makeup. More prisoners, Alyssa assumed. As she looked again at the group of women, Alyssa noticed a familiar face. The woman in question was strikingly handsome, with hair the same auburn colour as her own and a magnificent bust that was prominently displayed by the low-cut bodice she was wearing. She was perhaps in her 30s, but Alyssa seemed to recall having seen her photo many times when she was a lot younger. A name floated up from the recesses of Alyssa's brain. Nudging Tiffany, and pointing to the woman, she whispered, "Isn't that Miranda Fairchild? You know, the model? I remember all the boys in my class at school lusting after her." "It's Miranda Harper," replied her flat mate tonelessly. "She married a lawyer." Alyssa turned in surprise. "Do you know her?" But Tiffany did not respond. She was staring at a pretty young blonde woman who was striding up to their carriage. Her petite frame was encased in what seemed to be a tight-fitting one-piece outfit made of shiny red latex, which she had paired with black riding boots. "Hello Tiffany," she called, a wicked smile on her face. Tiffany looked at her for a minute, her face devoid of any expression. Alyssa could sense the strain there and reached out to place a supportive hand on her fellow sissy's arm. Tiffany ignored it and said quietly, "Hello Amy." Alyssa had no idea who Amy was, but it was clear from the trembling she could feel in Tiffany's body that there was some history here between the two of them - and not good history either. The blonde woman's smile broadened a little and she gave a peremptory jerk of her head. "With me." Tiffany remained motionless for just a second and then said, "Yes ma'am." She got down from the carriage and stood next to Amy with her head bowed. Alyssa scrambled down after her and made to join her girlfriend, but Amy put up a peremptory hand."Not you, gorgeous," she said, and ushered Tiffany away inside the house. "Where are you taking her?" called Alyssa. "That's not really any of your business, now is it?" said a new voice. It came from a stocky older woman with short, flaming red hair that looked far too bright to be natural. There was a smile on her face, but her slate grey eyes bored into Alyssa. For reasons she couldn't quite fathom, the sissy had a bad feeling about what might happen to Tiffany, and she opened her mouth to argue. But her sense of discipline reasserted itself at the last moment and she bit back the comment she was going to make, murmuring instead, "Sorry ma'am." "I should hope so," said the newcomer acerbically, but then her voice softened. "Now, let's start again. My name is Mistress Leto, and I'm the owner of this estate. Welcome to Show Day. You must be Alyssa, correct? And these are the twins." She gestured to the other two escorts, who had dismounted from the other carriage and joined Alyssa. "Let me have a look at you." She inspected them as she would a piece of merchandise. But despite being naked apart from their stockings and shoes, the three sissies bore both her investigation, and the avid gaze of many of the other women around her, with resigned equanimity. It was nothing that they hadn't endured before when working for the. Club. "Hmmm," said Mistress Leto, "you really are quite stunning, all of you. Such a shame though about these." She flicked Vanessa's flaccid cock dismissively. "I don't know why you don't get rid of them. Although I suppose the Sissyfuckers Club wouldn't keep employing you if you had the operation, would it?" "No ma'am," said Vanessa in a carefully neutral tone. "And the Club is, after all, the reason we're all here today, isn't it?" put in Miranda Harper, who'd wandered over to join the conversation. She didn't bother to introduce herself. "Indeed," nodded Mistress Leto. She looked at the escorts. "This is an event strictly for female members of the Club - the first of its kind we've organised." "Not that any of us are full members," added Miranda. "The men who run this organisation seem to think that women should only have adjunct status." The tone of her voice contrived to suggest that not only was this a mistake, but that someone - or more specifically some man - would at some stage pay dearly for the error. "Quite," said the estate owner. "In any event, the purpose of the show is to get together and show off our pets, as well having a bit of fun with them." "Your ... pets?" said Melanie. "Yes," said Mistress Leto, the smile returning to her face. "Some of them work as maids" - she gestured to one of the uniformed men, who was in the process of offering drinks to the three escorts - "though a lot of them are much prettier than these poor specimens, as you'll see shortly. But we keep others in, ah, different roles." "Like the, um, horses," said Vanessa. The mistress nodded. "And there are others." She put a couple of fingers in her mouth and gave a piercing whistle. There was a pause, and then two figures came scampering round a corner on all fours and ran up to her. At a gesture from their owner, they settled back on their haunches and sat there gazing up at her, mouths open and tongues lolling. If the "horses" had been a shock, these were something else again. Like their equine counterparts, these men had no clothing, barring leather pads on their forearms and knees. They wore thick and studded leather collars, while chains running from their wrists and ankles to a harness around their torso were plainly intended to stop from them standing or straightening up. Ring gags held their drooling mouths permanently open and precluded any attempt to talk. Their hands were also bound up, so they could not use their fingers, but must rely on their knuckles alone. But the sacariest thing was the way their body was totally covered by a thick coating of hair that matched the unruly mops on their heads. Mistress Leto saw the three escorts staring and laughed. "Do you like their fur? We've taken some techniques from baldness treatment and used them to stimulate hair growth all over their body. And that's not all. Roll over!" This last peremptory command induced the two "dogs" to lie on their backs, with their limbs in the air. As their mistress used the toe of her boot to rub their exposed bellies, they made whimpering noises, though whether of pleasure or distress, it wasn't clear. From this vantage point it was possible to see that their male organs were not just trussed up with some kind of plastic twine, but had been cosmetically altered to look like bright pink sausages. "They don't get many chances to use those things," said the estate owner, "but when they do they rut like, well, animals. All right, that's enough for now, off to your kennels." The pets awkwardly righted themselves and scurried away on hands and knees, the sissies' horrified gaze following them until they were out of sight. "Well now," said Mistress Leto, clapping her hands, "enough idle chat, it's time to put you three to work." "Um, doing what ma'am?" asked Alyssa guardedly. "Oh, we have a few things lined up for you," answered the woman with a deadpan expression. "But first of all, you have some judging to do. Come this way." She led them around the side of the house to a large marquee which was pitched on the extensive rear lawns. Rows of chairs were grouped on three sides of a temporary wooden floor. The seats gradually filled up with the female guests, a number of whom, Alyssa noticed, had "dogs" of their own. These were chained up outside, with enough distance between them to prevent any interaction, although some of them nonetheless barked wordless challenges at the others. Mistress Leto explained that there was a competition for Best Captive Maid. It was reserved for men who had been compelled or persuaded to be dressed and work on an ongoing basis as house maids, as opposed to volunteering or simply undergoing occasional transformations. The three escorts helped judge the maids' makeup and deportment (including their ability to walk in very high heels). There was a cookery element - each contestant had been required to bake a batch of cakes for the judges - and they were tested on their ability to mix cocktails. But the most popular trial was an assessment of their abilities at cunnilingus. Each contestant had to lick out a woman that they had never previously serviced in that way, and was assessed on how quickly they could use their tongue alone to bring her to orgasm. As each of the test subjects climaxed, seated on a chair with a sissy maid's head buried between their splayed legs, their cries were echoed by raucous cheers from the keenly watching spectators. Unlike the hired escorts, who aside from the obvious physical exceptions were all thoroughly feminised, none of the maids could really have passed as women. And those who cut a more convincing figure were not necessarily the best at some of the other skills tested in the competition. In the end, the judges (who included Mrs Harper) settled on a chubby but enthusiastic middle-aged man who rejoiced in the name of Lucy the Slut. Her owner received a trophy, while the maid's reward was to be fucked by the twins in front of the baying crowd. As Melanie and Vanessa simultaneously rammed their cocks into Lucy's mouth and ass, the maid's expression of dismay suggested that she had not been told in advance that this might be her prize. It was just as well for the tearful Lucy, Alyssa thought, that her own much bigger cock had not been called into service. "What comes next ma'am?," she asked Miranda, as the cum-soaked winner was led away, her caged cock preventing her from gaining any pleasure or release from the sex she had just had. "Pony race," responded the former model. Alyssa nodded. "Okay, where do we watch that from, please?" "Watch it?" said a cultured voice behind her. "You won't be watching it." The speaker was a tall blonde woman in full riding gear. "Come." She crooked a finger at Alyssa, who had a sinking feeling in her gut as she followed the woman to a set of buildings that were clearly stables. Many of the stalls were occupied by whinnying men, but the blonde found an empty one and picked up a pile of tack. "Now," she said, "let's get you fitted." Alyssa had endured a number of bondage sessions before, some of them quite painful, during her time at the Club. But nothing could have prepared her for the humiliation of being harnessed and bridled. Her cheeks burned as the blonde, who didn't bother to give her name, swiftly and expertly fastened the restraints, including a bit in her mouth that left the sissy unable to talk. She was also given a tail, attached to a large butt plug that was inserted in her reluctant ass, while her feet were crammed into tight "hooves" in place of the platform shoes. She was then given a quick explanation of what to do. She would be pulling a cart containing her driver, who would use the reins to steer her left and right through an obstacle course. With the blinkers attached to her bridle limiting her vision to only what was right in front of her, and her head tied back to hold it upright, she would need to rely on the driver for direction. She must also not walk or run in normal fashion, but instead lift her knees high on every step. If the driver wanted her to speed up, she would receive a "light smack" from the whip on her naked rump - though there was nothing light about the demonstration, as far as Alyssa was concerned. After enduring a few minutes of this, she was led by the bridle to a field in which a series of poles had been laid out. Once again, women were clustered around the fence to watch. An announcement informed them that this would be the Novice Pony and Cart Race, in which there would be three contestants. They would each take their turn to follow a set path around the obstacles, with the winner to be the one who finished the course in the shortest time. But they must avoid the poles, because of the penalties for hitting them. Alyssa went first - and it was a nightmare. On the heavy ground, it was hard to get the cart going - and she was distracted rather than encouraged by the painful blows she received from her driver. When she did pick up speed, she found it difficult to simultaneously concentrate on high stepping her feet and responding to the pulls on her reins. As a result, she hit several poles. That was bad news indeed, as she discovered the first time it happened. There was a blue flash and a searing jolt of pain through her body - the poles were electrified! The "penalty" for touching them was clearly not just a loss of time ... By the time she finished, she was sobbing with a combination of exertion and pain. And the latter only grew as, to the vast amusement of the audience, her irate driver belaboured her with the whip for failing to be more responsive. Mercifully, however, she was dragged off to a stall and left alone to collapse on the straw. By the time she was retrieved and brought out to hear the results, some twenty minutes later, she had only partially recovered her equanimity. With the blinkers still on, she could only sense rather than see Vanessa and Melanie standing next to her, the latter still panting from the exertions of her ride. Grimly conscious of the steel pin between her teeth and the bindings that bit into her flesh, Alyssa waited to learn the outcome of the race, her stomach churning with trepidation as to what might be next. Vanessa, it turned out, had been a comfortable winner. Her "reward" would be to move up a division and compete against more experienced ponies, who would be handicapped with weights to give her a sporting chance. That prompted a flurry of activity around a bookmaker, who was taking bets on the various competitions. Melanie, on the other hand, had performed even worse than Alyssa. For finishing last, she would need to play fox and hounds with a group of the pet "dogs" who had been brought to the show. Hobbled so that she could only move on her hands and knees, and adorned with a big, brushy tail laden with a powerful perfume, she would be given a headstart and expected to run into the forest to try and hide. If the hounds caught her, the audience was informed to vast amusement, they would not be eating her - but doing something much more entertaining. That left Alyssa, who was told that she would next be "riding the bull." To her great relief, the pony tack was taken off her, including the hated bit. She was taken to a show ring, in the middle of which stood a device that she recognised as a mechanical bull. When she climbed aboard it, she discovered that it had a penis-shaped extrusion towards the back of the saddle. Swinging herself up on the bull, she settled down on it. The dildo nestled fairly comfortably inside her ass, which had been stretched appreciably by the horsetail plug. She was used to anal penetration and felt confident that it wouldn't distract her from the task of staying on the bull once it got moving. She was completely wrong about that, as she discovered when the bull sprang into life and, at the same time, the dildo began surging up and down inside her butt. With a shriek of surprise, she was flung down on the grass. Now that she knew what to expect, the second ride was better, and she stayed upright for a respectable time. But on the third occasion, the dildo thrust significantly further into her, and from there on it kept increasing in length. She quickly reached a point where she could not fully sit down without risking a spike deep into her intestines. The watching crowd was in fits of laughter as she clung to the reins while being flung from side to side and at the same time relentlessly fucked by the powered phallus. Picking herself up for the umpteenth time, however, Alyssa caught her breath as she realised it wasn't the hurt and humiliation of this latest test that was so disturbing her, nor the residue of her appalling experience as a human pony. It was the cloud of uncertainty that had been hanging over her since shortly after her arrival at Selvey Manor. What was happening to Tiffany? To be continued