Assault on a Ponygirl

by Boxlicker101©
- do not use without the author's permission.


CAUTION: This is not one of my usual stories of fun sex. It is a tale of a man attempting to rape a woman, wanting to get back at her for wrongs he imagined she had committed against him. His intended victim was already in a place that was extremely inimical to her welfare and that of any other women who might have been unfortunate enough to be taken there. If you find this kind of story disturbing, you are quite normal, and probably shouldn't read it.

Skinny McKinney looked around before slithering out of the shadows and approaching the heavy door in the ponygirl training barn. If he got caught, since he had no valid business for being there, he could be severely punished, and he knew it. However, he considered his business to be worth the risk, at least for him. Earlier that day, he had watched as the newest ponygirl arrived at the farm where he worked at the lowest level job.

Skinny knew what they did there, and he was actually glad to be a part of it, however small. He was aware that his employers abducted pretty girls and young women and brought them to the farm for enforced training as ponygirls. As part of the training, it was necessary to break their wills through starvation and repeated raping and whipping and, once they were docile enough, they would be shipped away to be sold at auction to rich and amoral men and women. What happened to the ponygirls after that, once the operators of the farm had their money, was none of their concern.

It did not concern Skinny either because, for all his life, females had treated him like shit. He considered it to be their own snootiness, and ignored the facts of his own ugliness, lack of cleanliness and habit of picking his nose and eating it. Hundreds of pretty young victims had come through the farm, and he knew they were usually sent on to a life of misery and torture, and it had never meant anything to him until that day. The difference was that he recognized the most recent captive. Her name was Misty Miller, and she had been a cheerleader at the same high school as he attended, and they had graduated together three years earlier.

His intention was not rescue. In fact, it was as far from rescue as it could be. In school, he had lusted for Misty, a beautiful blonde with large, succulent breasts, even more than he had desired most girls. As had all the other objects of his carnal desires, Misty ignored him, and Skinny thought that night would be an opportunity to take a measure of revenge on her, and all the other women like her, by fulfilling his fantasies and fucking her. Best of all, to his way of thinking, she wouldn't be able to stop him.

Using the key he had stolen earlier, Skinny opened the padlock and quietly let himself into the barn. The room where the new victim would begin her training was brightly lighted, one of the methods being used to disorient ponygirls as part of turning them into docile slaves. He saw her, standing naked on the platform just a few feet away. Skinny was aware that her temporary ponygirl name was Big Tits, which fit her perfectly, but while he was ramming his cock in and out of her pussy, he would call her Misty. That would let her know that he remembered her and the way she used to treat him.

When the door opened and Misty felt the draft blowing on her nude body, she looked up and saw the man enter. His bony face and hairless pate, as repellant as they were, looked familiar, but she couldn't place where she had seen the man before. Hope raced through her mind that he might be her rescuer. She was certainly in need of one. Misty remembered riding in an elevator one evening, with three men standing behind her, and a sudden stinging feeling in her leg, but nothing else until she woke up in this place. All her clothing had been removed, and the only thing she was wearing was a pair of very heavy black shoes. From stamping her feet on the wooden floor, she knew the soles were covered in metal, but she didn't know why. There was no way for her to know it, but that footwear, with the metal horse shoes covering the soles, was part of her training. Misty didn't even know she was undergoing training, but she did know that she dreaded whatever might happen to her next.

Besides her missing clothing and the odd shoes, the other circumstances of her predicament were even more terrifying. A steel collar encircled her neck, and it was connected by a heavy chain to the floor. Misty's hands were cuffed behind her back, and another chain extended from the manacles to the ceiling. Within the limits of those two chains, she had a little room to move around, but the one that was fastened to the ceiling prevented her from sitting, or even kneeling on the floor.

These things were bad enough, but even worse was the hard rubber cylinder that had been forced between her teeth, with the ends extending past the sides of her face. When she tried to expel it from her mouth by pushing with her tongue, she had felt that it was held in place by one strap around the back of her neck and another that went around her chin and the top of her head. By looking down and to the sides, she could see that either end of the cylinder was also connected to a chain that didn't seem to be attached to anything else, but hung loosely, almost to her knees.

Her thoughts of a possible rescue were dashed when the strange intruder quickly stripped off his shoes and all his clothing and piled it on the floor a few feet outside her range of movement. Naked, he was even more unappetizing, with skinny arms and legs and a small, round pot belly. She still didn't recognize him but, when he spoke to her, she put his whiny, self-pitying voice and the face together and was able to recall where she had seen and heard him before.

"Hello, Misty," he sneered. "Remember me? I'm going to make you sorry for the way you used to treat me."

She remembered him alright, from her high school class three years ago. Misty had seen and heard him around the halls and classrooms, but didn't remember his name, if she had ever even known it. She did know that she had never done anything to hurt him, but was quite sure that would not deter him from trying to do what he obviously intended. His cock was erect and pointing at her, and it was obvious that his intention was to stick it into her ass or pussy. He would try, but with no success, if she could help it.

Skinny didn't expect his victim to be willing, and he even hoped the bitch wouldn't be, because he would have that much more fun when she tried to resist him. Not wanting to give her a chance to kick or knee him in the balls, he went around and approached Misty from the back, intending to take her doggie-style. To help him control his victim, he grabbed the chains that were attached to her bit and pulled back on them. Being bigger and stronger, he thought of himself as being easily able to overcome a mere girl, and tried to shove his cock into her, the way he had seen it done in so many porno movies.

Misty had other thoughts. Although the twerp may have been bigger than she was, her athletic activities, besides cheerleading, had resulted in her being in great physical condition, and able to hold her own against her assailant. He could use the chains and the thing in her mouth to hold her head somewhat in place, but he had no control of her body. When she felt his cock pressing against her buttock, far wide of his goal, she easily moved away. He tried to follow her, shoving her forward in hopes of reducing her lateral movement, and she pushed back against him.

It was extremely pleasant and arousing, feeling his erection pressing against Misty's succulent ass, but Skinny wasn't willing to settle for that. What he wanted was to ram his hard cock all the way into her pussy, taking by force the sexual pleasure she should have offered him willingly years ago. "Hold still, Bitch! I'm gonna give you the fucking you deserve."

With the bit in her mouth, Misty couldn't answer verbally, but she responded by avoiding the wild thrusts of his cock. She kept moving away from him, waiting for her opportunity to strike a telling blow. Although she hadn't been able to kick him, Misty knew her feet, covered in the odd metal shoes, could be used as a weapon in other ways. While her former classmate became more insistent, he also became less careful, until her chance arose.

She could see his foot on the floor between hers and, while distracting him with her continuing struggles, Misty slowly raised her steel-shod foot and brought it crashing down on his bare, unprotected instep. His howl of pain and rage gave her a surge of elation and adrenaline, and she kept that foot on top of his, raising the other to concentrate her weight, and bouncing up and down to make his injuries more crippling and painful. She had felt the bones in his foot crumble on the first contact, and she could feel them being crushed even more from her continuing effort.

Skinny's lust evaporated completely, as did whatever sense of caution that might have still remained. The excruciating pain and his need for help were so great that he no longer concerned himself with being quiet or sneaky. He was finally able to pull free, and he rolled on the stage away from Misty, until he was far enough away that she couldn't reach him. There he stayed, sobbing like a baby from the intense pain, writhing on the floor, and clutching his destroyed foot.

Two men, the operators of the ponygirl abduction and training facility, were attracted to the noise. Not knowing what was happening, but wanting to protect their investment in Big Tits, they came running and burst through the door of the barn. After making certain their latest piece of raw material was still unharmed and unable to escape, they looked at the other person present.

"It's McKinney," the first man declared. "And he's naked. He must have come here wanting to fuck Big Tits."

"Can't blame him. I'm gonna fuck her tomorrow and every day she's here," his companion responded.

They approached the man who was lying on the floor in agony, and clutching his foot. After pulling his hands away, the first man exclaimed at the sight of the injury. "Jesus H. Christ, she crushed his damn foot like an eggshell." After taking a closer look, he added a further diagnosis. "He'll never walk on that foot again."

"Well, if he can't walk, he damn sure can't do any work here. What're we gonna do with him, take him to the hospital?" He was being facetious, because they would never do anything of the sort, fearing McKinney might be asked questions and answer them, jeopardizing their operation. They were far less solicitous of the welfare of somebody like Skinny McKinney than they were of their ponygirl inventory. Big Tits and others like her represented an investment, at least in time and risk, and great potential profit, as well as providing a lot of fun for them.

His partner was fully aware of that fact. "We're sending a bunch of girls to the auction house tomorrow. Let's drug him and pack him in a crate and send him with them. He'll be their problem then." He wasn't sure how the owners of the auction house would solve their new problem, but he suspected it would involve a gun, heavy chains and a short boat trip out to sea.

Although Misty derived some satisfaction from what she did to the first man who tried to use her sexually, it had no actual effect on the eventual fate of Big Tits. Her ponygirl training began in earnest a few hours later, with the two owners succeeding in taking turns raping her while she was helpless. A month later, after repeated whippings, anal and vaginal rape and being subjected to a multitude of other abuses, the still sexy but thoroughly cowed blonde was also packed into a crate and shipped off to the same auction house. Her fate there, sex slave, show pony or whatever, would depend on the man or woman or group of people who made the highest bid and became her new owner.