"Phlegmy is not a word," said Sally, "there's no such word!"

"Of course there is," Doug replied, "wanna bet?"

Sally was hesitant. She remembered her recent trip to the mall, in a short skirt, with no panties, made after losing a similar bet. No one had noticed, she felt sure, although the fellow standing behind her on the escalator had not seemed very eager to pass.

Still, it was her chance to get even. "You're on," she said, "Loser is slave for a day."

Doug looked cute in his French maid outfit. Black high heeled pumps, fish net stockings with garter belt, abbreviated apron, white cap, and jewelled nipple clamps. Perhaps the clamps should not have been applied so tightly, but Doug's nipples were small, and Sally did not want to risk having them (the clamps) fall off. Anyway, he would only be wearing them for the afternoon.

"Another round of martinis, please", requested Sally, as she surveyed the dummy. "It's so hard to find good help," she commented to her bridge guests. Doug stood before them, holding the tray of four drinks. Liz reached under his apron, and approved of what she found. "Yes, dear, but hard help is good to find." Doug said nothing, which was not surprising, since he had a pair of Sally's soiled panties wedged firmly in his mouth

The bridge players each took a drink from the tray, and Doug turned to return to the kitchen, his apron bulging. The red butt plug drew a smile from the guests. "How cute," said Jill, "can he come to my place next week?"

Sally was interrupted from her day dream, as the car pulled up to the mansion at the end of the long drive way in from the highway. If only she had won that bet. Phlegmy! Who could have imagined there was such a word! Behind the mansion, Sally could see some sort of stables. This looked like a horse farm. Perhaps her "consequence" for losing the bet would be a day of horseback riding. What fun.

The door knocker on the massive double door was very cute, the back end of a horse, with the tail acting as a knocker. Doug lifted the tail, and knocked firmly. Sally then noticed that the legs of the horse looked rather human, as if somehow a horse's tail had been grafted onto the hindquarters of a beautiful woman. How very strange!

The door was answered by a young woman, in a French maid's outfit, very much like the one that Sally had daydreamed for Doug. Instead of nipple clamps, she wore a push-up bra, which ended just before it actually covered her nipples, and nipple rings that seemed permanently attached.

"Walk this way," she requested and turned to walk further into the mansion. Suddenly Sally saw the significance of the door knocker, for like the door ornament, this beautiful woman also sported a horse's tail that swished gracefully from side to side, drawing attention, as if it were necessary, to her full but muscular bare buttocks. Doug seemed to enjoy the view; perhaps he was drawn by the birthmark on her right flank, shaped like the letter Q.

Doug and Sally were led into an office, and greeted by a scholarly looking gentleman in a lab coat. "Maria!" he said, and glanced down. The attendant who had led them to the office, immediately dropped to her knees, and prostrated herself before him, licking his boots, for beneath the lab coat he was wearing riding boots. After about a minute, apparently satisfied that the farmyard mud (Well, Sally hoped it was mud) had been cleaned from his boots, he dismissed the girl. "That will be all, Maria," he said. "Please report to Miss Harper for an obedience lesson." The girl nodded, her face suddenly pale beneath her makeup, as she backed from the room. The sound of her high heels on the terrazzo floor could be heard as she made her way down the long hallway.

"Well, Sally, I have heard quite a bit about you from Doug, here, when he made your appointment, but I think I should see for myself. Remove your clothes please. You won't be needing them again, today." He indicated a wire basket that Sally could use to hold her garments. Sally hesitated. "Quickly, girl, we haven't all day." He turned to Doug. "I see what you mean about obedience training. I think we can work in a session with Miss Harper later this afternoon."

By now Sally had stripped naked, deposited her shoes and clothes into the basket, and stood before them. Doug kissed her on the cheek and said "I'll pick you up tomorrow morning, sweetheart. I'd stay longer, but I tee off in half an hour."

Doug left the room. "I am Dr. Quentin," said the man in the lab coat, "but you will now, and in the future, refer to me as Doctor and any one else you meet here as either Sir or Ma'am. Do you understand?"

Sally looked a bit bewildered but replied hesitantly, "Yes, I think so".

Dr. Quentin opened the desk drawer, and removed what looked like a riding crop. He slapped it once, loudly, against his lab coat. "We can start your obedience training now, Sally, if you like. Answer me one more time. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Doctor"

"Much better. Now let's have a look at you." He lifted a clip board from the desk, and walked slowly around her, as she stood naked before him. He placed one hand under her right breast, hefted it, and made a notation on the clip board. "Legs apart!", he ordered, and Sally spread her feet further apart. Dr Quentin felt between her legs, caressing her fine, blonde pubic hair. Another notation on the clip board was entered.

"Touch your toes, and hold that position," he instructed. She did so, and the good Doctor spread her buttocks apart. Suddenly something cold and pointed probed at her anus, and she contracted instinctively. "Number four," the Doctor muttered to himself, making a note on the clipboard and returning the ring gauge to his lab coat pocket.

He pushed a button on the side of his desk, and sat down. Sally was still touching her toes, with her legs spread wide, her ass facing the open doorway of the office. She wanted to straighten up, but had not been told to do so. She felt certain he was not kidding about the riding crop.

At that moment, a male figure entered the room, although from her position she could not make him out clearly. He walked past her, casually testing the firmness of her right buttock as he passed by. "You rang for me, Dr. Quentin?" he asked.

"Yes, Tim," said the Doctor. "Sally, you may stand straight now," he added.

Sally straightened up. "Thank you, Doctor", she said, for her calves were beginning to ache from holding the inverted position. Tim stood beside her, dressed in cowboy attire - a Stetson hat, plaid shirt, blue jeans with leather chaps, and boots with barnyard mud still clinging to them.

"Tim will take you to the barn for your tack and some grooming", he said. Then looking at the clip board he added, "Just one other thing. Your bust is at least two sizes below the ideal. We cannot correct that in one day, of course, but we will put you on the standard regimen for bust enlargement anyway, as if you were a permanent guest. One cup of bull semen daily. Tim here will take you with him to the bull compound, when he gives old Astro a cheap thrill."

Dr. Quentin came out from behind the desk, handed the clip board to Tim and gestured towards the door of his office. Tim led the way out. As Sally turned to follow him, Dr Quentin gave her a slap on the backside with the riding crop. "Enjoy your day, Sally. See you in the morning."

Tim led Sally, stark naked, down the hallway of the mansion, to a rear entrance where they crossed the barnyard. A large dog, about the size of a Labrador retriever, joined them. Tim patted him on the flank, and the dog licked his hand in appreciation. "This is Roddy," said Tim, "He's very friendly once he gets to know you." Roddy's tail wagged happily, slapping Sally on the legs.

They entered the barn. Tim gestured to a short wooden bench with one end a few inches lower than the other, "Have a seat." He glanced at the clipboard that Dr. Quentin had given him, and nodded his head in approval. "Lie down on your back with your head at the lower end. Lift your legs." Sally did as she was told. Just past the end of the bench was a horizontal beam. Tim took a pair of ankle cuffs that were hanging from the beam and attached one to each of Sally's ankles. A snap fastener on each cuff was clipped to a ring on the beam, so that she lay on her back on the bench, her legs elevated and spread, her pussy exposed at the end of the bench. Tim placed similar cuffs on each of her wrists and clipped them to the base of the bench.

Reaching into a pocket of his chaps he extracted a red ball the size of a golf ball, with straps attached. "Say 'Ahh'," he requested, and fastened the ball gag. "You've been pretty quiet," Tim said "But silence is golden, right?" He gave her a playful pinch on the nipple.

Tim then retired to another part of the barn, and Sally could here the sound of running water as Tim filled a kettle and set it on the gas cooktop. "Be with you in a few minutes," said Tim, "care for a cup of coffee?" He laughed at his own joke.

Tim had only been gone a short while when Sally felt a cold wet presence between her legs. Trussed and gagged, she had no option but to endure Roddy's friendly advances. His tail wagged happily, slapping her on the legs.

About five minutes later, Tim returned, with a pair of hair clippers. He pushed the dog aside. "I told you he was friendly. Time for a trim, eh?" he said, and began shortening the hair on Sally's pussy. "Be still now. Don't want to nip any of those tender parts!" He examined his work, and tousled the shortened hair playfully. "Now I know why they say gentlemen prefer blondes!" Sally's "tender parts" did not appreciate the rough treatment, for Tim's hands were calloused from his hard life as a cowhand. Yet she could not help herself as those same parts gorged with blood, aroused by his (and Roddy's earlier) unwelcome attentions.

Tim disappeared from view again, and then returned with the kettle, a bowl, a cloth, and a safety razor. He poured the nearly boiling water into the bowl, soaked the cloth for a moment, and then applied it to Sally's newly clipped pussy. "This may be hot," said Tim with considerable understatement. Sally wanted to yell with pain, but the ball gag prevented here from doing so. "Just as well you have that gag on," said Tim, "the punishment for crying out is not fun at all - for you, anyway."

Tim removed the cloth, and picked up a can of mentholated shaving cream. He squirted it on Sally's vulva, cooling it instantly. It felt so good. Quickly and expertly he shaved away the remaining hair. Then reaching for a dipper of water from the barrel beside him, he dashed the cold water on her, rinsing away the last traces of shaving lather. He ran his calloused hand over the newly shaven pussy that gleamed in the dim light of the barn, admiring his work.

Tim released Sally's ankles from the beam, and hands from the base of the bench. "Roll over onto your tummy," he requested, "We're almost done." She did as he requested, and he clipped her wrists back to the same rings, this time as she lay on her front. Her ankles were clipped in the same way - this time to the base of the bench, but at the other end. Her back side was front and centre.

"That iron should be hot by now," said Tim. Sally lifted her head from the bench and strained to see what was happening. Doug never did his own ironing, but apparently Tim had a domestic streak! Tim returned with what seemed like a poker, with the letter "Q" glowing at the end. Sally could smell the heat as he approached her with it. "Just gotta check whether it goes on the left cheek or the right," said Tim, "Mostly they do the right one." Suddenly Sally realized what Tim proposed to do. She struggled with her bonds and tried to protest, but to no avail. "Don't worry," said Tim, "it's not painful - leastways not if you wear gloves." He laughed again, and slapped Sally on her waiting rump.

"Would you look at that," exclaimed Tim as he checked the clipboard for instructions, "it says 'No mark unless bad behaviour'. Well, so far you've been a good girl. Too bad - I think I like branding the best."

"Just wait there while I hunt up some saddle soap," said Tim, "and we'll fit you for your first piece of tack." Lying face down on the bench, her hands and feet fastened to the floor, Sally has little choice. "Now relax," said Tim, "while I slip in this number five butt plug."

Tim spread her ass cheeks, and began to gently but firmly insert the plug. Sally's mind raced back to her interview with Dr. Quentin. "Number four! Number four!" she shouted, but, wearing the ball gag still, it came out, "Ummfffrrummffr!!"

"Yeah," said Tim, "when you get the right size, it is surprisingly comfortable. Good for you; a lot of the girls find this the hardest part. Later we'll attach a tail to the plug, but for now it can be an end in itself, if you know what I mean." He shoved the butt plug in the remaining inch, as Sally's sphincter muscle gratefully closed around it.

"Ummffrrummffrrffrrkknniddtt!!" mumbled Sally.

"Now, now," said Tim, "I'm going to take the ball gag off. No more talking, or we will have to revisit the branding iron."

He freed Sally from her bonds, including the ball gag. "OK, let's go milk Astro, and you can begin your breast enlargement program." He led Sally to another part of the barn. An enormous bull was tethered there. Tim fetched a brass pail, and attached some electrodes to the bull's private parts. "You hold the pail, while I give him the juice," said Tim. Sally, still as naked as before - more naked if you count the shaved pussy, less if you count the butt plug - held the pail, while the fully clothed Tim retreated to a switch on the wall, and flipped it down for a couple of seconds. The bull's eyes rolled upwards in their sockets, he shuddered, and an enormous load of semen half filled the pail, steaming in the cold morning air. The smell was similar to a tureen of fish chowder.

Tim disconnected the electrodes, and plunged a dipper into the warm and sticky semi-liquid. "There you go my lovely," he said. "A cup a day will make those boobies grow". Sally reached for the dipper. "Not so fast," said Tim, "what do you say?"

"Thank you, Sir," said Sally politely, if not with total sincerity. She closed her eyes, pinched her nostrils with her left hand and downed the cupful in a single gulp.

Tim looked at her in disbelief. "Silly girl," he said, "you don't drink it - you rub it on your titties!"