Maddy becomes a ponygirl 7 | bound naked | ponygirl stories

Jake had questioned Danny, the mechanic, before he left for Fort Benning. Danny confirmed he hadn't work on any of Maddy's hoses when he tuned up the car a couple weeks earlier. He was affronted Jake would even consider him responsible for the car stalling or otherwise breaking down. "That car was in tip top shape when it left here," he said, angrily, upset at the challenge to his skills. "I like Maddy, she's real people. It'd be a real shame if anything bad happened to her."

Nodding his agreement, Jake asked Danny if he had spotted anyone hanging around the bar where Maddy worked, over the last couple of weeks.

"Ah, nobody goes in that place who hasn't lived here twenty years,"

Danny replied. He had just finished working on an engine and was wiping grease off his hands with a stained, red rag.

"So you haven't seen anyone in there you didn't know?" Jake asked incredulously.

"Oh, once in a while some good old boy will stop in for a quick one as a break from the road, but they never stay for more than a couple beers."

"So no good old boys stopped in anytime over the last few weeks?"

"I can't say as I remember any," Danny replied. "I wish I could help you. You know I…"

"You like Maddy and she's real people," Jake interrupted. "I know.

If you think of anything, please let me know. Here's my card. Call day or night."

Jake flew a puddle jumper to a small airfield outside Fort Benning.

He had an appointment with the quartermaster of the base. He got there around four in the afternoon. He sensed that the quartermaster, a fat, slovenly, sandy haired colonel, was anxious to begin his weekend.

Jake was lucky to get an interview. Michael Bertram had pulled a few strings and the colonel had agreed to see him.

"You mean a KTF stroke 7016," he said, when Jake mentioned the Raytheon miniature receiver.

"Yeah," he replied to the distracted colonel, "the KTF stroke 7016.

You've got an inventory of them?"

"Sure, I checked. We've got fifteen. We had sixteen but one broke.

We don't use em much. No call for them in an airborne outfit. Maybe the engineers…"

"The one that was broken, can you tell me when that was?" Jake asked, his interest piqued.

"Well, according to the SP47, Report of Casualty Loss Form, the piece broke on the twenty-first of January, last. Six months ago. A tow motor ran over the box."

"Who signed that form, Colonel?"

"Let's see," the colonel answered. "Yeah, Master Sergeant Drake.

Jarvis Drake."

"He's still here?" Jake asked.

"Oh, yeah," the colonel answered grinning. "He'll be here for a long time."

"Why's that?"

"He got killed in a jump two weeks ago. They buried him in the base cemetery. He was qualifying for his jump pay."

"Great," Jake mumbled to himself. "What about the tow motor driver? Does the form say who he was?"

"Yes, in fact it does. A Corporal John Newsome. He's still breathing, as far as I know."

"How can I contact him?" Jake asked.

The colonel looked at his watch. "He's just about getting off duty now. If you hurry, you'll probably catch him. He stays late a lot."

Just the kind of guy who might be taking government property out the back door, Jake thought. If Newsome sold the 'KTF stroke 7016', he might remember who bought it. Jake knew how to put pressure on a guy. Not many quartermaster corps guys wanted the Inspector General's people looking through their warehouses.

Jake thanked the colonel and caught a jeep to the technology warehouse. Several soldiers were streaming out as he arrived. He asked for Corporal Newsome and was directed inside. The corporal was sitting behind a huge desk piled with paperwork. He looked up as Jake approached.

"You must be Mr. Haesler," he said. When he saw Jake's surprised look, he added, "The colonel called. Told me to wait for you. You have a question about a KTF stroke 7016, right?"

Jake nodded his head. His investigation wasn't going to get very far if everybody else was one step ahead of him.

"Corporal, this receiver unit that was damaged some months back, the Colonel tells me you were driving the forklift that ran over it. Is this true?"

"Listen, Mr. Haesler, lots of stuff gets damaged in a military warehouse, and I don't particularly remember this one small part."

Jake decided it was time to take a different tack. "Corporal, my recollection of the military tells me corporals don't usually drive tow motors and expensive electronic components are not usually stored on the floor. I'm involved in a very serious investigation, one that may mean the life or death of a young woman. The uncle of this woman is a very powerful man. A corporal hoping to replace a dead master sergeant as chief quartermaster for this warehouse may just want to play ball with me. The fact is whoever stole that receiver is probably the guy who kidnapped my friend's niece."

The corporal looked up at Jake with concern. "I can guarantee you, Mr. Haesler, that receiver unit was not involved in any kidnapping."

"Listen, Corporal," Jake said, his voice rising, "I'm from Missouri, I've got to find things out the hard way. I need proof, not a 'guarantee'

from someone who's probably trying to figure out right now how much loot he can scoot out the back door of this place before the next inventory. Your master sergeant's untimely death is a golden opportunity for you. Anything missing will be pegged to him. I could make a lot of trouble for a guy pulling a scam like that."

The corporal paused, reflecting, then looked up at Jake. "Okay, okay. But you'll have to come with me."

Corporal Newsome commandeered a jeep and drove Jake across the base. They exited the main gate and drove about forty-five minutes along a two lane county road. Jake fingered the Beretta in his pocket.

If Newsome was in on the snatch of Madeline, he might try to ice him to buy time for a getaway. Jake would put a bullet in the corporal's brain pan first.

After about thirty minutes, the jeep pulled into a condominium complex. It skirted the buildings and was brought to a halt in the back, adjacent to a single car garage. The two men hadn't spoken the entire trip. Jake was in no mood for chitchat and neither, it appeared, was the corporal. Jake was sure he hit a nerve when he talked about the probable prospective and ongoing looting of the warehouse.

Newsome opened the garage door and stepped inside. In a few moments, he emerged with a large box. He placed it on the ground and opened it. Inside was a two-foot long scale model of a P52

Mustang, the 'Cadillac of the Skies'. Newsome removed the fighter plane from the box and brought it over to a small field that backed up to the condo development. He placed the plane on the ground, pulled a remote from the box and, in a moment, the Mustang came to life.

Ten seconds later it was taxiing down the field and took off into the air.

Newsome smiled at Jake. "Custom made. It's got the best small receiver made, a KTF stroke 7016, otherwise known as a Raytheon model 2240 miniature receiver." He proffered the remote to Jake.

"Want to give it a try?"

Jake smiled and shook his head. For about twenty minutes he watched he corporal take the Mustang through its paces. The show ended in a perfect three point landing. The Fort Benning angle was a dead end.

Kalikastan is a small country the size of Montana, consisting of approximately one hundred fifty thousand square miles. It is located just north of the confluence of the Don and Pfiester Rivers. While the northern part of the country, bordering on the Republic of the Ukraine, consists of vast wide open steppes, the southern half consists of gently rolling hills running westward and leading up to the foothills of the Urals. Its capital city boasts a population of one hundred thousand people. Its principal exports are oil, coal and wheat.

The country's strategic location between the southern border of the Ukraine and the long southeastern arm of the Russian Republic, has guaranteed it a pivotal role in the economies of those two countries.

Black market goods pour over its borders into its large, powerful neighbors. Its capital, Dlitski, serves as a haven for the criminal classes of both countries. It's considered neutral ground, a rule harshly enforced by the efficient Kalikastan secret police.

Since the fall of the former Soviet Union, there has developed a rather extensive and wealthy oligarchy which controls the reins of government in Kalikastan. Large estates in the hinterland serve as the conspicuous icons of wealth. And since the country was once known as the home of fierce tribes of nomadic horsemen, intolerant of government in all its forms, the midlands are more or less a law unto itself, disputes often being settled by violent gunplay between rival clans.

Maddy's plane landed at Brevski Airport, about five miles outside the capital. It taxied down the long runway directly over to the air cargo customs building. The tail of the plane was cracked open and oversized forklifts began the task of removing the igloo shaped cargo containers. The first two were delivered to the customs shed to be inspected by the appropriate local officials. The third container, one that had been specially marked, was driven directly to a waiting flatbed truck. It was covered by a large tarpaulin and driven away.

Maddy had drifted in and out of consciousness during her fifteen hour plane ride. She experienced strange physical sensations caused, unbeknownst to her, by the drift and yaw of the huge cargo plane.

The jet engines caused a constant vibration that could be felt even inside the casket. Maddy's mind never cleared sufficiently for her to draw the conclusion she was in the air, being flown to an unknown destination thousands of miles from home.

When she finally awoke from her drug induced stupor, she was still lying in the container, its lid open, her mask and bindings still in place. The catheter had been removed, leaving a small red mark on her arm. If she could have raised and turned her head, she would have seen eight other silver caskets lined up beside her, with eight other naked and bound women attaining consciousness. Above her, she could see a high ceiling supported by crisscrossed wooden beams.

She could see a faded whitewashed brick wall opposite her container.

The room was deathly silent. Maddy was too weak from her ordeal to struggle, so she lay still and nervously awaited developments.

After about an hour, Maddy heard a door opening and closing and the sound of heavy boots on cement. Two unshaven, blue jeans clad young men, no more than twenty-five or six, walked past her container. She heard the men speaking in a strange language. One of the men laughed.

A cabinet was opened and Maddy heard the jingling of metal chains. After a short silence, she heard the whimper of a female voice, a word of protest and a loud slap. A harsh, male voice yelled,

"Shut up, slut!" The feminine voice was stilled.

It took a little while before the men worked their way down to Maddy's container. She saw, out of the corner of her eye, the container next to her emptied, the frightened, blond haired, young woman who had inhabited it drawn to her feet. The girl was crying and Maddy could hear her sniffles and sobs. One of the men, a lean, black haired man, dressed in a green t-shirt, bound the woman's hands behind her back with a leather thong, while the other clamped a four inch high steel collar around her neck. He wore a white t-shirt with a large tear along the side. He was shorter and heavier than the other man, but had similar unruly black hair. The heavy set man clipped a three foot long chain to a ring in the front of the collar, and another to a ring on the back. The thin man had a large roll of duct tape in his hand and he tore off a long piece and fastened it over the girl's mouth.

Maddy's turn was next. When her mask was removed, she held back her urge to ask questions, the most natural one being, "Where am I?" She stared silently at the men as they undid the straps that bound her. Maddy didn't want to cry, but nonetheless, her eyes welled up and a solitary tear rolled down her face. The tall, thin man caught the droplet with his finger and, smiling, brought it to his mouth. He said something to the other man and they both laughed.

When Maddy was brought to her feet, she saw the other women who had been bound and chained together, waiting expectantly for the next development. Their eyes were wide with fear. None of them dared move. The men attached the chains, collar and binding on Maddy, taped her mouth closed, and moved on to the next coffin.

About twenty minutes later all the girls were chained together and ready to move. Maddy's head was still somewhat befogged by the residual of the Demerol in her system and she was unsteady on her feet. She saw the heavyset man tug the lead girl into motion. Each girl on the coffle, in turn, felt the chain pull on her neck and followed.

The thin man walked down the line encouraging cooperation by slapping the buttocks of the naked women. The women docilely allowed themselves to be led from the long room through a door that opened to the outside.

The noonday sun shone brightly. A large cobblestone courtyard outside the building surrounded on all sides by two storied, whitewashed rough stone buildings with grey, slate roofs. The courtyard buzzed with activity. There were several shiny, black Mercedes parked there, and men were walking to and fro, engaged in their business. A small motorbike revved its engine and sped away through a gateway in one of the buildings.

The women were led to the center of the courtyard and made to stand shoulder to shoulder after the chains linking their collars were released. A small boy came over with a jug of water. The green shirted man took it from him and went down the line, ripping off the tape covering the women's mouths, giving them a drink, then replacing the tape. Maddy's mouth was dry and had a sour, medicinal taste. The water was cool and fresh, and she was grateful for this minor act of mercy.

The women were left standing in the hot afternoon sun for a considerable period of time. While no one stood guard over them, all the women were too afraid to move. There was nowhere to run to anyway. It was strange to Maddy that the men who walked through the courtyard paid so little attention to them. One or two walked down the line of women, pinching a breast here and there, but, for the most part, the women were ignored, as if the presence of naked and bound women standing forlornly in the courtyard was an everyday occurrence.

Just when Maddy began to fear she would collapse from exhaustion, a corpulent man, dressed in a long sleeved, striped sports shirt and sharply pressed, black trousers came walking down the wooden steps from a veranda on the second floor of the building on the women's right. He walked slowly, measuring each step carefully.

His face was swarthy and he wore a thick, black, handlebar moustache. Two bulky, well dressed men accompanied him, one in front and one behind. They wore dark sports jackets and chinos. In spite of their dark sunglasses, they seemed to be consciously aware of everything around them.

The women's eyes were on the trio of men descending the stairs.

The almost frenetic activity in the courtyard came to a halt.

Khalid Rashini had achieved prominence as the finest importer of female flesh in Kalikastan. In an almost lawless environment, he had managed to fight off every attempt to incorporate his operation into one of the vicious criminal gangs that operated freely in the country.

Part of the secret of his success was his extensive family connections.

The other was the fact that the ruling families of the country, who controlled the police, the army and several rather large militias, wanted a reliable and discriminating source of women to enslave and exploit. Khalid's prices were fair, and the women were plentiful and beautiful.

Khalid issued an order to a minion who was standing at the bottom of the stairs. While he rushed away, the slave dealer walked the line of women to see his new stock in trade. He took his time, examining each woman in detail. He measured their breasts with his hands, pulling on and teasing the teats to hardness. His hands descended their legs, feeling the tautness of their thighs, the firmness of their calves. The women were forced to spread their legs so he could fondle their sex, manipulating them into wetness. Each woman was turned and their buttocks and back inspected. Finally, the silver tape was ripped off their mouths and the state of their teeth and gums examined.

Maddy's knees were shaking and sweat poured down her sides as she waited her turn. A small crowd of t-shirted and unkempt men gathered and watched appreciatively as each girl was put through her paces. Whatever was to be her fate, Maddy knew this fat, callous man would have a large say in it.

When Khalid stood in front of Maddy, he made a comment to one of the bodyguards who had accompanied him. The bodyguard nodded appreciatively. Maddy stood at least half a head taller than the other women. She was not lithe and demur of form as they were. Khalid reached his hands out and felt the muscles of Maddy's shoulders and arms. He seemed satisfied at what he found. Maddy could smell his foul, garlic laden breath as he held her face with his hand and peered into her starry blue eyes. She was revolted to be at this man's mercy.

Dismal fear swept through her. She was caught up in a terrible nightmare from which she could not awaken. It was all too impossible to be true, that she would have been kidnapped and taken to some foreign land to be a sexual slave. All her hopes and dreams of what life would bring her were dashed. How will I ever bear it, she thought.

Khalid stroked Maddy's ample breasts admiringly. He put his lips to a nipple and sucked at it gently, flicking at it with his tongue. His hand crept between Maddy's thighs and pried apart her nether lips.

Maddy could sense the men watching her, waiting for a demonstration of her feminine passion. She gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, but the mouth on her breast and the hand in her loins began to enflame her.

Her labia began to engorge with blood and her nipples became taut and hard. She could sense the softening and moistening of her sex as the hand expertly caressed her. None of the surrounding men spoke as they watched. The only sound was Maddy's rapidly quickening breath. When she could hold back no longer, she moaned.

A round of appreciative male cheers went up around the women.

Khalid stepped back and held up his glistening hand to the crowd of lust filled men. Maddy, her knees weak from her passionate swoon, reddened. Tears flowed from her eyes. Khalid turned back to her and patted her on the cheek, mumbling some incomprehensive consoling words to her. He tore off the tape that covered her mouth and finished his inspection.

While Khalid was inspecting his goods, two men were installing a wooden post in a hole about twenty feet in front of the women. It had an arm that stuck out like a gibbet. When Khalid was finished his tour, he stepped back and a path was cleared away by the surrounding men so the women all had a clear view of the wooden post. Khalid went back down the line of nine frightened women. He paused at each one, searching their faces. When he was done, he came back again. He stopped at a small redhead who was standing next to Maddy. He pointed to her and barked a command to his men.

The redhead was dragged over to the post. Her hands were untied from behind her back and retied in front of her. She was crying and her eyes were wide with fear. A long, leather strap was tied to her wrists and passed through a ring in the arm that stuck out from the top of the thick post. The woman's hands were drawn high above her until she stood on her toes. Her ankles were tied together.

The tape covering the women's mouths hadn't been replaced after Khalid's inspection, and, as the purpose of being singled out occurred to the young woman, she began to beg and plead. "Oh, God, please don't hurt me, please! I'll do anything you say! Please, oh please, I don't want to be whipped! Oh, please don't do this, please!" Tears flowed freely down her anguished face. A man handed Khalid a many tasseled, leather whip. When the redheaded woman saw it, she moaned.

Maddy had seen poor Maureen whipped when she was a prisoner of Herman and Louise, but those whippings had been part of a deviant display of lust. This whipping, it appeared, was to be a cold, calculating demonstration of power.

Khalid shook the whip out to its full length. The redheaded girl closed her eyes and stiffened her body. There was absolute silence in the courtyard. Khalid raised his arm back and slung it forward. The lashes of the whip struck the women's body across her legs, stomach and breasts. She let out a piteous scream. Khalid reared back and struck the girl's body again. Again she screamed, even louder. She had recommenced her pleading. "Ohhhhhhhhh! Please stop, please!"

The whip descended once more. Everywhere it landed rose lines of bright red. Khalid moved so he would have a clear shot at the crying and sobbing woman's back. She stiffened and screamed again as the lashes tore across her buttocks and thighs. The leather tassels struck across her breasts and belly. The young woman twisted and turned, desperately seeking to avoid the vicious tongues of the whip.

She yelled frantically as the whip struck her three more times.

Finally, Khalid was done. The red headed woman's naked body was crisscrossed with the marks of the whip. She hung listlessly, moaning and crying.

The line of naked young women who had witnessed the demonstration of Khalid's authority and cruelty were aghast. Tears of fear and despair poured down more than one face. Khalid turned to them and smiled. "On your knees!" he yelled. The women hurried to obey him. Apparently, this was a signal to the men because they began approaching the line of kneeling women. There were about twenty men in the courtyard and they queued up in front of the women. The first man in each line undid his pants and pulled out his cock. The women needed no explanation of what was expected.

Khalid stepped over to where Maddy was kneeling. He pushed the man in front of her aside, speaking harshly to him. He pulled Maddy to her feet.

"No cocksucking for you today," he said in a rough, deep voice. He signaled to one of the other men who handed him a roll of duct tape.

He tore off a piece and placed it over Maddy's mouth. "Maybe tomorrow," he said to her laughing.

Although grateful she didn't have to suck the cocks of these strange men, Maddy was confused. Why was she being treated differently than the others, she thought to herself. What could it mean?

Khalid was in no mood to explain. The redheaded woman had been released from the post and her hands retied behind her back. A leash was affixed to her collar and one of the men handed it to Khalid.

Without ado, Khalid turned and began his slow, ponderous walk back toward the building from whence he had come. The redheaded woman followed dolefully, close behind him.

Maddy was left standing naked in the sun while the other women worked to satisfy the crowd of men. She could see their mouths working energetically to fulfill their tasks, could hear some of the women choke and cough as the men forced their cocks into their throats. Some of the men moaned when they came, others called out.

Some just quietly accepted the flow of pleasure through their bodies as they unloaded their spunk into an obedient mouth.

It took more than an hour for all the men to be satisfied.

Undoubtedly, some of them were serviced more than once. There was no clearer way to demonstrate to the naked and bound women their new purpose in life.

For the rest of the afternoon, the women knelt there, and the men resumed their activities. Occasionally one of them would walk up and down the line weighing which woman's mouth to use. When chosen, the woman would dutifully and energetically fulfill her function.

As the light began to dim, and twilight approached, there came a clamor from one of the buildings. Whistles blew and a door slammed open. A line of naked women came streaming out. The leader began to run around the perimeter of the courtyard, her wrists bound behind her back.

All kinds of women, all shapes and sizes, blondes, brunettes, red heads, followed in a long line. There were about twenty-five women in all. They ran after one another hurriedly, their breasts bouncing and swaying as they strained to follow the leader's pace. All of them had their hair tied behind their heads and all wore steel collars. Men

chased them with small leather quirts, encouraging them to greater speed. They were all gagged.

The line of women circled the vast courtyard four times.

Occasionally, one fell, only to be pounced upon by a whip wielding, t-shirted man. They struggled to their feet, as quickly as they could, and rejoined the streaming line of naked, frightened women. When they were done, after the fourth pass, they stood panting and gasping for breath. After a few moments, the whistle blew again and they hustled back into the building.

It was almost dark when the line of kneeling women was commanded to stand and walk toward the door from which the line of women had come. One of the men tore the tape off Maddy's mouth.

It ripped her skin and stung terribly. The women were led into a huge bathroom with a long trough that served as a sink and a row of toilets against the wall. The women's hands were released and they were given to understand they should clean themselves up and take care of their needs.

Several men stood and watched as the women relieved themselves then rushed to the sink to wash. No talking was allowed. There were several bottles of green mouthwash on the shelf over the trough and the women made good use of it, washing the taste of their afternoon repast from their mouths. They also drank the cold, refreshing water to their hearts' content.

When the women were finished, their hands were rebound behind their backs and they were led, single file, out of the bathroom. They entered a long room lined with stalls on either side. In each stall was a bound and gagged, naked woman. A chain led from the back of each woman's collar to a ring in the wall.

The column of women was led toward the far side of the building.

About three quarters of the way down, they came upon empty stalls.

One by one, the women were led into a stall, a gag shoved roughly into their mouths and a chain connected from their collars to the wall.

Maddy received her gag with meek despair. She discovered a worn, cotton pallet set along one side wall of her stall and a bench along the outer wall of the building. The chain was just long enough for her to stand a foot away from the entrance to her stall, which was about seven or eight feet deep. She saw a young woman across the way from her, naked and bound as she was. Their eyes met, and Maddy saw in the other girl's face the fierce sadness that she was herself experiencing. Now that the men had completed their task, there was no sound in the building except for the tinkling of chains and the muffled sobs of forlorn women. A wave of hopelessness washed over Maddy. She sat down on the bench and cried.

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