The stallion advanced
through the floating threads of mist, flaring his nostrils and snorting
explosively. He could smell her
excitement. He came on with long rolling
strides, proudly, his ears pricked erect.
He shook his mane. The thunder of
the heavens was in his breath. He pranced
to one side, eyeing her, stepping high and displaying himself. The enormous bludgeon of his phallus bobbed
and waggled stiffly between his powerfully muscled hindquarters.
He arched his neck, then threw back his head and whinnied, intoxicated by the
smell of her. She quivered with arousal
at his nearness, watching him come to her as if in slow motion through the
mist, muscles moving beneath his sleek silken hide like quicksilver. His fertile scent filled her senses.
His eyes stared with
all the wildness of the primal world.
She closed her own eyes and felt the
rising ecstasy of his presence flooding her being. Then she opened them and saw the rampant
organ of a man, bucking spasmodically between his naked widespread thighs. A bead of liquid passion glistened on the
slit of the smooth shiny bulb.
She allowed herself to be turned by
his strong hands. She bent over and
thrust her hindquarters back at him, presenting her open, pink-lipped sex. There was the humming blur of something
through the air and then the echoing crack of a leather strap on her naked
flank, burning like fire. Suddenly she
realized she had a collar on her neck and her ankles were chained wide to metal
posts in the dirt. The sound of rough
lascivious laughter brought her head around.
“That’s it, fuck mare,” said a
familiar voice. “You go on an’ get
She was confronted by Red Garrett’s
bluff, congested face. There was a mad
gleam in his eye as he struck her with the strap again, causing her bare hips
to writhe in torment.
see that ass up higher,” he growled past the cigar in his teeth.
Obediently she bowed her head and
bent further over, shoving her backside out and up. Gripping her broad splayed buttocks, her
stallion mounted her, burying the long, thick, rigid strength of his maleness
in the warm, yearning depths of her cunt.
The slow, elemental surge of his
loins rammed the muscled cudgel of stiff flesh repeatedly to the hilt in her
melting core. The pleasure, building and
building, finally crashed like a wave through her body, threatening to sweep
her away. But still he went on, pounding
and thrusting with all the force of the stallion, possessing his ready
mare. The passion shuddered in his
chest, loud and horse-like. She knew he
was only seconds away ... A feeling of trepidation and unbelievable excitement
had her in its grip as he approached his climax. The hard-muscled wall of his loins tensed,
battering against her wet buttocks. And
then, with a roar of release, he flooded her already dripping depths with a
deluge of hot jism.
Glancing back over her shoulder, she
saw Red Garrett’s cavernous mouth gaping wide as his deafening laughter filled
a pony gal, always a pony gal,” he said.
Mariel woke with a
start from the dream. In her nocturnal
struggle she had thrown the light cover off, exposing her naked body. She was drenched in sweat. She paused for a long moment, leaning on her
arms in a sitting position, gasping for breath.
The clamminess of the hot night was oppressive and she had a raging
big sweat-gleaming breasts wobbled as she padded lithely naked into the
bathroom and switched on the light. She
filled a glass full of water and drank, then looked at her reflection in the
Hers was an attractive face, frank,
strong. The hazel eyes, thickly lashed
below the high arched brows, had a steady gaze, sometimes disconcertingly
so. The sort of gaze that gave a body
the impression it could probe the inmost soul, whether it could or not. Dangerous eyes. But very, very sexy. The wide mouth with its
full lips naturally sensual. The long nut brown braid of her hair hanging halfway down her back.
should she be dreaming of Red Garrett, she wondered, the now infamous pony girl
rancher, whose activities she had not long ago investigated, and the man
himself brought to justice?
She wiped the sweat from her breasts
and slid her fingers down over her ribcage, feeling the scar of her recent
knife wound, a souvenir of that encounter.
True, her experiences on his ranch
as a human show mare in the ring and a brood mare in his breeding pens had had
a profound effect on her. So much so
that she could look at herself in the mirror and see not only Mariel Cade,
Texas Ranger, but also Silver Star, the latest addition to the Garrett stable
(as she had been referred to by the show ring announcer at the pony girl
She was a strong woman, used to
controlling things around her. But after
being shot and captured and taken to the Garrett Ranch buck naked and in
chains, her life had altered drastically.
She still tried to tell herself that the threat to civilian lives alone
had forced her to become a show mare and draught animal harnessed to Garrett’s
parade carriage, but there was more to it than that. She knew.
Kept naked at all times, with a
collar round her neck and a shackle ring on her ankle, her every move dictated
by whip and vocal command, the experience had unleashed certain feelings she
barely recognised or perhaps deliberately chose to ignore because of what they
represented. A loss of
control. Submission. A delicious surrender to
complete depravity. And she had
enjoyed it. She had got a taste for it
and wanted more. All these suppressed
feelings, the secret desire to be dominated, degraded, were exposed to the
light, naked and panting and demanding acknowledgement if not acceptance. But above all, satisfaction.
now, by closing down Garrett’s operation, she was deprived of the peculiar
circumstances that had given her the means of that satisfaction, the active
outlet for those wanton urges. But she
was a law officer first and foremost. She had no choice. It was crazy to think otherwise. And in doing her duty she had saved a young
tourist forced into sexual slavery and the life of an innocent waitress caught
up in Garrett’s madness, as well as freed numerous other women and girls held
against their will.
But what of the women who had
enjoyed their existence as human livestock, giving themselves over willingly as
fuck mares and show animals, even to the point of being publicly bred? To them it was a way of life and they
wouldn’t change it for anything. Women
like Stella, Red Garrett’s boss mare, who had tried to get Mariel killed and
was now in prison awaiting trial. A wild
woman of powerful build and strong passions, who had every reason to hate the
female Ranger who shot her lover, Roy, dead and removed her from the life of
naked depravity she so loved. Women like
her were drawn to that life through a need to dominate or be dominated, to lead
or be part of a herd, mustang girls intimately acquainted with rope, bridle and
whiplash, who saw no other way once they had tasted that life, with its dark
seductive attractions, the public couplings, nakedness and chains.
And now, looking in the mirror,
Mariel realized only too well that for a brief time she had been exposed to and
immersed in that same life as a human mare.
And already it had made a lasting impression on her. Regardless of her official status as a law
officer and her duty to serve and protect, there was no getting away from the
fact that she had found herself secretly enjoying her period of enforced
submission, until opportunity and the threat of deadly danger compelled her to
turn the tables on her captors.
touched her neck, even now seeing the collar on it to which her lead rope had
been attached when she was led around.
She felt her big breasts, the nipples stiffening as she recalled the
little silver bells that had jangled from them whenever she was harnessed to
Red Garrett’s carriage and made to pull it under the whip. And she felt the unmistakeable excitement
between her moist thighs at the memory of the crazed rancher’s strap stinging
her bare ass while she was publicly serviced.
Once a pony gal,
always a pony gal. She was
beginning to believe it.
RED GARRETT PETITIONS
“The court will
rise. The honorable Judge Clayton Pike presidin’.”
By the time everybody resumed their
seats Mariel was more than a little curious to see how Red Garrett was bearing
up. The big rancher’s massive form was
dark suited, in stark contrast to his usual flamboyant white, but there was little
in his expression to indicate any kind of despondency over his position. The beady grey eyes still twinkled with their
barely sane joviality. The only
noticeable difference about his face was that his mile-wide mouth was shut,
something Mariel had to work to get used to, as the lips were usually drawn
back in an alligator grin, exposing his wall of teeth in which a cigar stub was
must have felt her staring at him then, because he caught her eye directly and
had the brazenness to wink. A
mischievous smirk then quivered at a corner of his mouth as his gaze settled
briefly on the Ranger star pinned to her white shirt. Mariel blushed beneath her tan. She had after all been named Silver Star
after it and entered naked into the show ring under that title. The brightly polished surface of the star
shone as her big breast rose and fell with a heavy breath. She was only too glad when the court got down
the charges were read out, including abduction, slavery, rape, corruption of a
peace officer, murder and attempted murder, Garrett’s lawyer stood to have his
say. He did not start at all well. A psychiatric report on the big rancher’s
state of mind, originating his pony girl obsession with an ardent boyhood love
of horses and the naked female form, in which the beauty of both became one and
inseparable, was laid before the judge, who received it in stony silence.
prosecution pointed out that a boyhood fascination with girls and horses was no
excuse for what went on at the Garrett Ranch.
A large proportion of Texas boys, they argued, could be accused of a
similar preoccupation, but they did not rope their girlfriend nor stick a
bridle on her. This latter remark
induced some laughter, which swelled hysterically when someone muttered,
“That’s as far as you know.”
Pike banged his gavel for order.
Nor did it induce them to engage in
the very serious crimes of which the defendant was accused, the prosecution
Garrett’s attorney seemed undaunted. “Yore honor,” he said. “We
are all well aware of the grave charges laid before my client, but as the
report clearly shows, he was in a deranged state at the time and freely admits
that his pony girl ranch was an innocent hobby gone wrong. In the light of this we would like to
petition for bail.”
The judge reacted angrily. “Mr. Conor, you will not insult this court nor my intelligence
by attemptin’ to trivialise the involvement or
otherwise of the accused in the charges now facin’
him. Your argument that the defendant’s
pony girl activity was an innocent pastime gone wrong will not wash. Bail denied.”
“Yore honor -”
mister - now!”
Red Garrett looked at his attorney
in irate disapproval.
The hapless lawyer obeyed the
judge’s summons and stood in his chambers a short time later. The judge turned on him like a pit bull. He was not called Iron Pike for nothing.
what in the hell were you tryin’ to pull in there,
son? An innocent hobby
gone wrong!? It was a goddamn
perversion, Mr. Conor, in
which young women were held against their will an’ made to perform like
animals, in which a visitor to our fair state was abducted and impregnated in a
bizarre parody of a horse-breedin’. And a young man lost his life on the point of
revealin’ it to Ranger Cade, later to become a victim
of this same treatment herself. That ain’t any kinda innocent pastime.
An’ if that’s the best you can come up with for a defence, your pony-lovin’ sonofabitch is up shit
creek without a paddle!”