Sasha's Stable Mates

Caution: This is the second chapter in the sad tale of Sasha and is not a story of gentle love-making such as I usually write. It is a cruel tale of humiliation and degradation and, if you think this might bother you, you should not read further.

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The man who had just inflicted the most excruciating pain and humiliation on Sasha was otherwise acting like her friend, but he obviously was not. No friend and not even most enemies would have committed as heinous an assault on her as he had just done. Picking up her virtually naked body as easily as he would have handled that of a child, he held her in the air and, while she kicked and struggled fruitlessly, rammed one end of a huge object into her ass. The other end of that object consisted of a plume that he called her tail, and he told her it had been made from her own hair. She hadn't been able to see herself in a mirror to verify this, but the "tail" was the same platinum blonde as her hair and, considering what else had been done to her, she feared he was very likely telling the truth.

After allowing her a few minutes so her body could "adjust to your new tail" as he put it, the man tugged on the leash he had clipped onto the collar Sasha was wearing. "Come along," he said. "It's time for you to meet The Boss and your stalemates."

Sasha very much did not want to go where he was trying to take her. It wasn't that her present location was pleasant, but wherever he wanted her to go was almost certain to be worse. She tried lying on the floor, in imitation of people she had seen and heard about who were passively resisting, but he was having none of it.

"Look, Ponycunt, when I tell you to go somewhere, you go."

He removed the small whip from his belt and slashed her across the thigh. Red hot agony shot through her body from where he had just struck her, but Sasha stayed where she was. He yanked on the tether he had, stretching her out, face down on the floor and cut her hard across both cheeks of her ass, and this blow was even more painful than the first had been. She reconsidered the wisdom of her passive resistance and started to get to her feet, as best she could with her arms shackled behind her back and pain throbbing from her abused ass and the places on her delicate skin where the whip had struck.

"That's better," he said when he saw his prisoner was getting to her feet. Once she was standing, he yanked again on the leash. "Let's go now, and let's have no more of your damned nonsense."

Docilely, Sasha followed the man who held the end of her leash in one hand and his whip in the other. She definitely did not want to get hit with that mean leather thing again, so she followed through the door that had apparently been his place of entry to where she came to and down a short hallway. Sasha had thought of the place as a barn, but it was obviously much more than that. The man opened another door and pulled her into a long and brightly lit room. After her eyes adjusted to the light, she looked about in amazement.

On one side was a line of women's heads, but they weren't mounted trophies of some macabre kind, because the women were alive, and looking at her with interest. She stared at them with equal interest, because it seemed almost as though she was looking into a group of mirrors. There were five women, and each of them had the same kind of thing as she did crammed into her mouth and distorting her features. All of the women's faces were fair as was hers, and each head was topped by a great mass of platinum blonde hair like hers, or like hers had been the last time she saw it. The man pulling her leash had said the thing he called her tail was made from her own hair and, if that was true, she had no idea what the top and back of her head looked like after that atrocity was inflicted on her.

The sight of those women was bad enough but, maybe even worse, was the vacant space between two of them, which resembled a stall she had seen on a horse farm. Sasha remembered how her cruel captor had referred to "The Boss" liking palominos, and she realized that empty space was waiting for her. She was going to be kept like some kind of trophy in a strange line of pens, and she had no way of knowing why or for how long or what kind of terrible thing would happen next. Once again she balked and, once again, a few cuts with the whip changed her mind.

"Ponycunt, the more you resist the worse it will be for you. Now, come along and meet your new owner."

"Owner? She was to be owned by somebody?" The idea frightened Sasha more than anything that had happened to her, until she thought of the possibility of more and harder blows from the man's whip. Reluctantly, the frightened young woman continued following the man who was holding her leash in his hand.

He led her through a door in the other end of the narrow room where the stalls were into what appeared to be an office. A man in his fifties was seated behind a desk, and six other men, all dressed like cowboys as her escort was, stood and stared at her.

"Here she is, Boss. Her name is Sasha, and she gave me a little trouble and I had to whip her a couple of times, but I got her here."

"Sasha, eh? That's a good enough name; she can keep it," The man who was obviously in charge replied. He looked at the body of the captive, naked except for some leather straps she had deduced were a kind of harness. "She sure got some nice tits."

He continued staring, and Sasha felt like a helpless bird held by the hypnotic gaze of a snake. The Boss addressed her directly. "Rocky tells me you gave him some trouble. You better not give us any more if you know what's good for you. We have ways to deal with trouble makers, and they're not very nice. Do you understand? Whinny for 'yes' and neigh for 'no'."

Believing she knew what was good for her, Sasha raised her head and whinnied loudly, like a horse. Her imitation wasn't very good, but it seemed to satisfy her questioner.

"That's better. See that you remember what I told you. You are going to be the newest member of 'The Blonde Bombshells,' a very elite group. You should be proud of that." He turned his face to speak to the man who still held Sasha's leash. "You brought her here, Rocky. Do you want to be the one to break her in?"

"Sure, Boss."

"Okay. Any of you other guys wanna join Rocky and Sasha for some fun?"

One of the other men stepped forward. "Yeah, I wanna. She's a hotty and I'm pretty horny."

"Okay. You know where to take her," The Boss said in dismissal of those two men. To Sasha, he smirked "Enjoy yourself, Sweetie," and grinned evilly.

The man who had been called "Rocky" tugged on her leash, and the other man caught up with them and fondled Sasha's ass. It was intensely painful, from the stub of her tail that had been forced into her and from the welts caused by the whipping she had already suffered. She didn't know exactly what had been meant by "break her in" but she was almost certain it meant she was about to be raped by the two men, followed by being forced into the currently vacant stall with the other human palominos.

So began Sasha's first day as the property of she knew not who, in a place she knew not where, not knowing what would happen to her next, and dreading the time when she would find out.