The Wild Wiced West

The Wild, Wicked West

Stolen Brides and Modern Slavery

Part 1 - The Saddle

Shelby is sent to her next trainer, and we meet the Machinist as he fucks his wife.

~ Theo ~

Now that it was time to move her, Theo felt an odd sense of irritation. He and the Machinist didn't particularly get on, and that whore he'd knocked up and kept was like an untrained, yippy little dog--a chihuahua full of vitriol.

Theo tucked his printout with all the details of his findings about this new slut into the saddle bag with a sigh. He knew the Machinist didn't even read his report, but Theo was way past the feeling of not being appreciated. The Machinist preferred to explore on his own and had his own approach for keeping the sluts in line. And his approach was very... befitting of a man who made a living fixing and rebuilding the old machines on the ranch.

Theo looked up at the saddle with a wry smile. The Mechanic wasn't the only one who could build things.

It was an old saddle, one he didn't mind parting with. In his younger days on the ranch, he'd tossed it around, not realizing that he was ruining it. The wood inside had cracked, making it uncomfortable to sit on.

Though now, comfort wasn't really his chief concern.

Two dildos, sitting side by side, pierced the air obscenely as they jutted upwards from the saddle. If he did say so himself, it had been a stroke of genius to glue their flared bases, meant to act as suction cups in the shower or on flat surfaces, to the old saddle he didn't need anymore. He glanced proudly over at the slut, her eyes wide with terror as she drooled around the red ball gag.

"Isn't it a beaut'?"

When she didn't answer his question, he sighed and unwound a length of rope in his hands. He'd affixed the fancy four-inch gold cuffs around her wrists this morning, after James had given the go ahead. A smooth band of metal, once they clicked in place, there was no escape beyond a saw. The gold made them unlikely to cause a skin reaction, and some of the men who bought the whores liked to leave them on for ease. They made restraining her incredibly simple, with metal loops on the outside, big enough to accommodate the rope that he had threaded through them inside. No rope-burn for these sluts, only the best.

"I give and I give, and you won't even do me the courtesy of answering a simple question." He pulled the rope taught and her hands banged together behind her back. Placing his boot square in the middle of her lower back, he kicked her to the ground. As he still held the rope attached to her wrist cuffs, her arms jerked up at what had to be a painful angle. She cried out around her gag.

"Now, one more time. Isn't what I made for you pretty?"

Eyes closed against tears, she nodded, whimpering.

He released her wrists, and reached down to grab a fistful of her hair. It had been clean and shiny when she'd first arrived. Not anymore. It was a mess, tangled and dirty. It looked awful, and it didn't even have dried cum in it yet.

As a sort of final farewell, Theo took a moment to memorize the image she cut. With her slender legs kneeling in the dirt, her pale ass sticking up and waving around in the air as she wiggled to provide some relief to her shoulders, the flare of her hips and dip of her waist, the gentle lines of her back... He would genuinely miss tormenting this one. From his testing, he knew that this position he had her in--with her breasts smushed under her in the dirt--was stimulating already-sore nipples. He knew that if he checked, her body would likely be responding to the feeling.

He'd wanted to have her again, but a patient had shown on his porch this morning, blatantly ignoring his posted office hours, and then the Machinist had texted in the group chat that he was ready for her. If Joe had texted him directly, he would have ignored it long enough to fuck her one last time. But James had seen Joe's message, and Theo didn't want to risk anyone finding out he'd delayed sending her on her way, now that his job was done.

Maybe he'd get a little more time with the next one. Maybe he'd skip over some of the parts where she tried to get away and move right into sedating the bitch and fucking her cold pussy. Or ass. In fact, he'd never had a cold ass. It might add some interesting, pleasing dimension to his experimenting--the ass wasn't self-lubricating like the cunt was.

He eyed the slut. She hadn't fought him this morning when he'd given her the enemas. She'd been quiet, almost despondent. That was gone as soon as he told her it was time for her to move on. Then, she'd perked up. Sluts were nothing if not predictable. One whiff of a chance for escape, and they came alive again.

Hope was a funny thing like that.

"Up you go, slut. I greased up those fake cocks real good, just for you."

He pulled at the rope, giving her enough slack so she could struggle to her feet. He admired how her skin was now covered in red-brown dirt. It was all she wore, other than the collar, the cuffs and the gag. Oh, and a few darkening bruises around her middle.

Something damn fitting about a woman riding naked, stuffed full of cocks, tied and helpless against any kind of attack--man or animal.

He sincerely hoped she made it to the Machinist. They'd only lost one girl on this journey, and had since gotten better about the coyote fences. If she made it, he knew he'd see her again. She was James's type and she had the right temperament to make it through her trainings. James just might decide to keep this one, and he usually shared his girls. Theo wanted to see her tight little nipples and clit with piercings so he could put her through an updated sensitivity testing.

He pushed her towards the platform so she could mount. "Don't worry," he grunted, lifting her up the two steps next to the saddle, "I don't think this is goodbye quite yet."

~ Shelby ~

Well, fuck. What the hell did that mean? When he'd told her she was moving on, she assumed he meant she was leaving this place. Visions of windowless vans had filled her head and hope had started growing in her chest. If they moved her, the odds increased that someone would see, or she could run.

Had he been lying? Were they just going for a fucked up horseback ride? Was he coming too, so he could continue to abuse her?

He had her hands behind her back, the fucker. He made sure he was in complete control at all times. She sorely wished she could get one swift kick to his gonads, but she was naked and tied. Her spirit wasn't broken, but she had no interest in being beaten again.

Standing on a platform in front of a horse that was wearing the most horrifying saddle in the world, she reconsidered the beating. Shelby gulped. Was he really going to make her sit on that? Tears prickled behind her eyes again.

He was duct taping her right foot in the stirrup. She was running out of options.

Timing it so it would catch him the most off guard, she waiting until he'd just finished with the tape, then brought her free knee up towards his face. He was ready for it, though. He blocked it and pushed her away, so that she fell on her back on the platform, foot still attached to the horse.

She cried out as her head cracked the wood and her arms were crushed behind her, under her own weight. He tsked and shook his head at her. "All right, no more Mr. Nice-guy." With that, he lifted her and unceremoniously dumped her on the saddle. She missed the dildos, thank God, but landed with her pubic bone on a particularly hard part of the saddle and she howled in pain.

"Fuuuuuhghh eueiiii," she tried around the ball gag. Knowing she was leaving him, that he wouldn't be able to hurt her anymore, was making her bold.

He duct-taped her other foot, dodging her performative kicks and curses. She didn't really want to fall off the horse--her hands were still tied and it was a long way down. He walked back around to the other side, climbed the two steps of the platform so he was once again taller than her, and slapped her square in the face.

Her face stung and she cried out as she turned away, rubbing her cheek as best as she could with her shoulder. He grabbed her hair firmly, fisting it so tight that it pulled at the skin of her face, and turned her head to make her look at him.

"I don't have to, but I'm going to give you a warning. Some advice, rather. Don't pull this shit with the others. If you're half as smart as you think you are, you'll listen to me."

The fingers on his other hand felt like maggots, crawling on her skin as they made their way across her breasts and down to her navel. She started to cry again as he touched her clit, rubbing it. "That's it," he crooned into her ear. "Your body knows what a whore you really are. Even though your brain won't let you admit it."

With that, his hands went beneath her armpits and he lifted her. She knew what was coming next. Her eyes bugged out and she began to struggle against him as she felt the blunt edges of the two dildos. Both flesh colored, the one pointed at her ass was significantly smaller than the other, but it felt like a fist. It felt much bigger than the plug she'd so painstakingly worked her way up to. Maybe not as big as that damned inflatable plug he'd used yesterday had become.

God, that thing... the thought of how the stretching had been such an invasion, such a violation. She'd been so stuffed full with the plug, then the cold dildo he'd left inside her. There was something seriously wrong with him, that he'd wanted her to be cold. And, truth be told, she was starting to think there was something seriously wrong with her for how the additional pumps of the plug had turned her on when he was inside her. It was like a punishment, one she deserved for deriving any pleasure from this fucked up situation. She deserved the pain of it; it was like a reminder.

But she didn't deserve this saddle, or the forced double penetration.

"You'll thank me later for stretching you out," he said, voice heavy with strain as he fought to subdue her. He pushed down and she screamed as the tapered ends of both dildos forced themselves inside of her at once, popping just inside the sphincters of her holes. It didn't hurt physically as much as it did mentally--mentally, it was an assault on her body that made her feel skewered, anchored in place.

The greased dildos slid in with relative ease, though her asshole was on fire. She whimpered and groaned as he lowered her further, impaling her. The dildo in her ass slid in easily with the lubricant and gravity, but she winced, feeling like a knot was inside her already inflamed, sore hole. The cock in her pussy actually felt nice, especially in comparison, and she hated her body for feeling that way--for its betrayal.

She was so, so full, as her body was completely seated on the saddle and the dildos were each fully sheathed inside of her. The horse moved, swaying and shifting on its feet impatiently, and she moaned around the gag. It hurt, it felt good, it hurt more... Mostly, it was an ever-present assault on her awareness. There was no ignoring it, no getting used to the constant changes to the sensations. And now her pussy was getting sort of wet, too.

Stupid, fucking body. This was going to be a thorough, complete torture. If the doctor's exam had revealed any truth, it was that she needed clitoral stimulation but that penetration still turned her on. So she was about to be inexorably penetrated in both holes for the duration of this journey, with no hope of any kind of relief for the building sexual tension.

He adjusted the stirrups so low that she couldn't hope to lift herself off the dildos, then tied the rope threaded through the cuffs to the saddle such that she couldn't lean forward or otherwise avoid the pressure on her ass. She could open her hands, and use them to help her balance by spreading them and holding onto the underside of the leather, but it forced her back to arch and shifted her weight. In this position, the dildo in her ass was in all the way--as deep as it could go.

"Almost forgot..."

Shelby was so busy trying to relax her anal muscles, she didn't see his hands until it was too late to try to move away. He slipped a hood over her head and the brightness of the day disappeared, plunging her into darkness. He tucked the edges under her collar so she wouldn't be able to shake it off.

The noise she made around the gag was panicked, desperate. She couldn't see, couldn't do anything but try to maintain her balance now. Any lingering hope that she'd be able to take control of the beast died.

Then, there was a pneumatic whoosh and a sharp pain on her back, somewhere near the bottom of her left shoulder blade. She cried out, more surprised than hurt, but the prick of it dulled to a fiery sting.

"That was a tracker so we'll know where you are at all times. It's about a half-inch under the skin, a real bitch to get out."

She screamed in rage. Even if her hands were free, he'd put it somewhere she'd have a hell of a time trying to dig it out.

There was a vibration near her leg, and she knew he'd pat the flank of the horse when he said, "And this here's Molasses. She can make the journey in, I'd say, about two hours at a walking pace. She knows the way. I'll be keeping an eye on your progress and I hope, for your sake, no one finds you on the road to the next house. It won't be pretty for you. Of course, you won't see it coming." His laugh was horrible, taking true pleasure in the idea of someone finding her like that.

With that, he flicked her right nipple, laughed at her noise of protest and slapped Molasses's rear.

As she sprung into motion, Shelby scrambled to tighten her hold. It was nothing more than a fast walk, but every footfall made her whole-body sway, and made Shelby cry out. She moaned, then whimpered, then screwed up her face. In addition to being afraid that every motion might make her fall from the horse's back--she couldn't imagine surviving that in one piece--every sway rubbed those cocks against each other inside her. Her back was going to ache from holding this arched position, and her legs were going to start shaking from the effort of holding tightly to Molasses's sides.

This was going to be the longest two hours of her life. Naked, tied, impaled, immobilized, gagged, blind, and so utterly helpless, the fear had numbed to dismay long ago.

His echoing chuckle followed her down the road, and when she couldn't hear him anymore she assumed he'd either gone inside or she was too far for him to see. She had no idea what her surroundings looked like, but it smelled like the town where she'd first gotten off the train--faintly of manure.

That was as far as she got in that line of thought, as Molasses stumbled slightly, the abrupt change in pace jostling Shelby on the saddle. She cried out as the fake cocks pulled and pushed on her inflamed, delicate skin. This was so much worse than being fucked, it was so much more relentless and unyielding. Flesh had a way of molding together, but in the battle of woman vs. dildo, her body was the only thing that could give.

Shelby whimpered as Molasses settled back into her slow, steady pace.

There was so much to be worried about--who came next, the Doctor's ominous parting message, being discovered by some sort of hungry animal, falling off the horse--but most of it was out of her control. She couldn't let herself worry about any of that, especially not when there was something more pressing--the very real concern that eventually the "grease" he'd put on the cocks stuffed inside her would eventually rub off and start rubbing her entrances completely raw.

But the only thing she could do about that was make a little more of her own fluid.

So, feeling like the utter slut he'd been accusing her of being all this time, she used the motion of the horse to shift her pelvis forward and get some friction on her clit. She'd never reach orgasm without it, even with the feeling of those dildos rubbing her inside. It would be better if it were direct, like a finger to the exact right spot, but she had to try this.

She moaned as the light pressure zinged through her whole body. It felt like it had been so long--too long--since she'd gotten some real pleasure. He'd been sedating her at night, and something felt wrong about touching herself after everything he was putting her through so she wouldn't have, even if she'd been awake. But now, out in the open, completely unsure of whether or not she was being watched... Her face was on fire, thinking of what it would look like to a passerby.

And, in a cruel twist, the blood started pounding between her legs at just the thought of being caught like this, stuffed to the brim with fake cocks glued to a saddle, grinding her poor little clit against the leather to get off on it. If that didn't make her a slut, she didn't know what did.

No, she told herself. She couldn't let herself fall for his lies. She wasn't a slut. She wasn't doing this because she wanted to. She had to. She needed the fluids. The saddle might actually do some real damage to her body without some lubrication--her pride wasn't worth it.

But as she ground herself down harder, relishing in the sweet pain deep inside her cunt from the just-too-long dildo, and the fire in her asshole from the just-too-wide girth of the other one, she was starting to suspect that her reasons were more like excuses.

The gentle sway wasn't enough motion, it was a frustratingly light touch. A tease. It built slowly, in time with the mounting pleasure/pain in her holes. She needed more direct contact. Every muscle in her body was tense, and she was so focused on holding her body just so that she barely felt them start to scream in protest. Just a little more, just a little harder, just a little deeper...

A muscle near her lower back started to spasm. With a frustrated scream, she had to relax her body, give herself a tiny rest. Luckily, the rubbing sensation combined with her imagination had created some natural lubricant and the friction had lessened. But her body was shaking with the need to finish what she'd started.

So once the danger of cramping had passed, she tilted her pelvis again and pushed herself down onto the saddle. This time, she rocked as much as she dared on the back of the swaying animal. Back and forth, fucking herself--doubly penetrating herself--just enough that her aching clit made contact with the rough material. It still wasn't quite enough. The sensations tickled as they built, rising but dancing just out of reach no matter how hard Shelby ground and bucked back and forth.

She was crying by the time she gave in to her seizing muscles this time. She closed her eyes, since it didn't matter anyway, and took some deep breaths to focus herself on the sensations. Pain blended into pleasure, and melted back into pain. She was a ball of need, no emotions save desperate determination to come. She was reduced to a set of holes, filled so much, but not filled enough.

She wished... no, she wouldn't go there. But the thought continued, unbidden--she wished she had more sensations. A little twinge in her nipples to focus on, or something brushing the back of her throat, or a change in the size of the dildo in her ass with a quick pump...

The thought of it got her blood going again, creating a syncopated heartbeat inside her aching flesh. She pushed forward again, this time using her arms more to give her back and legs a break.

And like that, over and over, Shelby edged herself as the horse continued to amble along.

~ Joe ~

A new girl was coming soon. Based on the time stamp on that oily motherfucker's text, he'd sent her on her way 30 minutes or so ago, so she'd be here well before dark. He knew the tracker would show him exactly where she was, but he couldn't summon the interest to care quite that much. He tossed his phone onto the kitchen table and it made a thunk and skittered a few inches across the well-worn wood.