by Raul Roget
Chapter 6: Sex, Sex and
As the evening turned into night the three females on the ranch were all thinking about sex, but from widely differing viewpoints.
The cook, Verna, had a private room on the second floor in the bunkhouse. Her tall svelte frame and glistening black hair visually clashed with the stereotype of the short pudgy, stringy haired vixen that is so often pictured for a cook. Just about every man on the crew had made two or three attempts to get into her pants without success. A couple had persisted, anxious to gain bragging rights but they had been rebuffed at every turn.
Verna was lying nude on her bed, exhausted from a lengthy bout with Ken. Ken was inhuman, prone to hour after hour of penetration, violent rutting and above all vibration. Ken was Vernaís pet name for her oversize plastic 'friendí that pleasured her at a momentís notice. But even Ken had never gotten fully past the delicate lips that lined her slit.
Verna was a mess mentally. She was not a lesbian, although slutís tongue was pure heaven. She desperately wanted a relationship with a man but the right one had never come along. She was old school, brought up by parents who would have disowned her if she had sex before marriage. That she was 'saving herselfí for her husband fell on deaf ears. It even embarrassed her to have to keep repeating it while she fended off pawing hands. She desperately hid her arousal as the feeling hands brought her more than once to the brink of orgasmic disaster. She knew that if she ever had an orgasm that the word would get around and she would never have any peace.
When slut was mo ved to the bunkhouse Vernaís emotions became even more confused. She stayed in her room at first, ignoring the sounds drifting up from the main room. All was lost when she opened the door to listen more closely, eyes shut, picturing what she would see. Soon she found herself standing outside her room, leaning over the balcony rail, avidly watching every stroke as one of the boys covered the chained nude, joining the other avid watchers. The boys knew she was there and slut often looked up directly into her eyes as she was being screwed.
Not so strangely, having a nude slut sharing their bedroom seemed to sharply increase the attempts to seduce Verna. However, the cowboys didnít seem to understand, or didnít want to understand that her appearance at the balcony rail was not an invitation to the nearest stud to climb the stairs and mount her. She had sharply rebuked the first to try it, stopping the attempts before they even started.
If the Master hadnít ordered it she never would have allowed slut to give her head, right out in public, next to the serving line at supper time. The ecstacy she had enjoyed, including a nearly suppressed orgasm, had robbed her of a nightís sleep as she lay in agony on her lonely bed, debating herself as to whether she was or was not a lesbian. She wasnít and she knew it, but slutís tongue had given her a full dose of self doubt.
Verna was lying there, comparing the good and bad things in her life, the one underlying problem being that she was distraught that she couldnít find a man.
Slut, on the other hand, had more men than she could handle. At least that was what she first thought when she was punished by being turned into the crewís play toy. While it wasnít exactly a piece of cake, she quickly discovered that one of her immediate fears seemed to be groundless. Just like her Master, she had visualized repeated gang bangs on a nightly basis. Like her Master she was greatly relieved to find that while the cowboys were crude, they liked her and didnít play rough with her and she quickly found their attentions would keep her aroused, despite being distracted by other punishments.
She was not at all happy with the arrangement, but she knew she had to tolerate it. She was not about to complain or ignore her Masterís order. She had glowed when she was Masterís slave, his exclusively to have sex in any form he chose. She knew she richly deserved to be punished, but she hadnít expected this turn of events. The one good thing was that she could enjoy unlimited sex almost on a 24 hour basis. She had an unusually strong sex drive, but one that Master had matched on at least an equal basis. She was getting enough now as well, but she dreaded the fact that she was slipping into a mode that she could only describe as 'sluttish.í ďBut,Ē she asked herself, ďisnít that the whole point of my punishment?Ē
She had watched her once-empire crumble to dust when 'that womaní had walked up to the truck and moments later had her job and title for her own. As she admitted to Master, she was at first wildly jealous of this interloper. Even now, as new punishments were looming for it, she still got little blips of jealousy. With good reason she expected slave martha to beat her insensible until she renounced these last vestiges of her jealous rage.
Slut was awed, and cowed by the new slave. Most of her jealousy, as she had told Master, had evaporated when she learned of her new mistresses experience and educational background. Once she had rid herself of the clouds of jealousy she could see martha as a ticket to get on the fast track back to her collar. She knew instinctively that martha would teach her many things that would be of value. At the same time she realized that some of the moves she was learning from the crew would help get her back into Masterís bed. At that point her crystal ball went dim as she refused to face the possibility that there might be three in that bed. After all, it was big enough for three.
Then had come the half-assed 'rescueí by her abusive brother. She shuddered as she relived the close call that could have ruined her life. If she had disappeared from the ranch it would have been chalked up as a successful escape, even if her battered body had been found in some ditch miles away. Even with the two men in jail, her careful efforts to re-establish Masterís trust had almost suffered, but Master had ended by praising her and lifted the frustrating gag ban.
She lay there after the last crew member had fucked her and gone to his own bed, reliving the humiliations of the day, not the least of which was being forced to have public sex on demand. She hadnít shown it, but having the cook watch her as the men took her was pure agony.
Slut could see the avid hunger in the cookís eyes, certain that she would have given almost anything to take slutís place, even to being tied to the bed. Slut was fairly comfortable being naked in front of the men, but some small part of her rebelled at having another woman watch her degradation. She too posed the question to herself as to her lesbian tendencies, and as Verna had done, denied to herself that she was gay. After all, she was getting poked several times a day by men. She rejected that argument, pointing out that it was forced.
No matter how many times she repeated her degrading mantras each one hurt. The good thing was that she was able to use every embarrassment, every humiliation or hurt to stiffen her resolve to regain her slave collar. She sighed in pained resignation.
As sleep came closer, her thoughts returned again and again to the new punishments she would face in the morning. Her vivid imagination quickly gave her a big screen, full stereo, 3-D picture of her suffering torture after torture, as fast as she herself could dream them up. The immediate problem was that the rapid fire visions were saturating her writhing body with inescapable arousal. She prayed that Master would never ask her to suggest some punishments as every one she imagined was worse than the one before it and the very first one would have set her screaming, far stronger than anything Master had ever done to her. She overlooked the fact that now she had a mistress between her and Master.
She finally slept, restlessly, dreaming that she had to climb an endless mountain that stretched into the clouds to find her collar. By morning she would dream of never ending torture in a room where every object graphically promised pain.
Slave martha, who had played a major role in the recent events was lying in her Masterís bed, sated after an hour of foreplay that had brought her to the boiling point, bouncing on the bed like a rubber ball as her new Master filled her to overflowing, matching bounce with thrust until she was yipping like a coyote.
She too had plenty to think about and sleep would come quite slowly. In her mind she replayed a tape of the last weeks. The death of her Master, George, was not a surprise as he had been in failing health for several years. Once an active slave owner, he had lost interest and his three slaves were ignored and left to their own devices.
At his death the family had descended in force, complete with a lawyer. They assumed that the slaves would have a large claim on the estate, but the will was specific, leaving each girl the sum of $2,000. The rest of the relatives were still unhappy, especially when they found out the entire ranch was going to the oldest son. They felt better when they found there was plenty of cash for everyone. The oldest daughter handed the three slaves their money and ordered them off the place.
She had only a vague idea where the other two slaves were headed. They had heard of a Master in southern Colorado so they had probably gone there.
The rapid fire turn of events after that was only now sorting out. She now was sure that her automatic ritual of kissing Masterís boots at the mailbox had unlocked the gates of heaven. She startled herself with the realization that she had been very jealous of the tortured girl on the wooden horse, envying her the luxury of having a Master who would put her in bondage and punish her for some unknown fault. She thrilled at the thought that she would have to kneel before this same Master and admit her fault, knowing that he would punish her twice as hard as he would slut.
Her conversation with Master in the truck on the way home was a blur. She remembered being asked if she would wear his collar and her reply. After she got to the ranch she didnít remember anything else, but as she moved about she seemed to know what she had been told to do and how to do it.
Postponement of her first experience with the tiger cage had made a profound impression on her. The follow-up sex had been heaven as Master George hadnít taken any of the slaves into his bed for several years. Master had suffered a much shorter time but his big manhood made up for lost time for both of them. When she did experience the claustrophobic tiger cage as her first punishment, she recognized that it would have been a bit much for her that first night.
Her thoughts strayed back to slut. She had expressed her amazement to Master when he described some of the unique punishments she had, and would suffer. Master went on to explain how the staff was benefiting and reciprocating with new ideas for her punishment.
It was a tough act to follow. Slut had Masterís ear, but martha already knew him to be fair, so she was unconcerned that slut might complain. She doubted it, because she easily recognized the girlís determination to succeed which would be damaged by a complaint. Martha also knew that - despite the stupid and dumb mantras - slut was very bright. She learned fast, and martha was quite pleased that she had expressed a willingness to learn from her new mistress.
Now all she had to do was her two assigned tasks, keep the books and train slut. Her third task was to keep Masterís bed warm, but that was not on the list and was off the books. As for training slut, she was prepared with both carrots and a stick to break any remaining tendrils of jealousy in her new charge.
Like slut, martha had a 3-D file of visual images of punishment and torture to draw on for morning. The key difference for martha was that they were for slut and not for her own body. She made a mental note to get slut at the height of some painful episode to admit to whether she had ideas for her own punishment. She decided it might be quite interesting. Too, martha had the duty card to hold over her, ensuring an answer.
She made another mental note and underlined it to stress itís importance. It stated emphatically that she should never ever allow herself to get in the same position.
She dreamed she was on a high mountain top, throwing a spinning collar to a struggling figure far down the slope.