Summer School & After School: The Ponygirl Omnibus Edition (37 page)

      
What a weird switch
, she thought, by now
slowly rotating her hips and trying to get something pleasurable from the screwing
that she was going to get one way or another. The rough hands were now on her
tits, squeezing the soft hanging globes and tweaking the ringed nipples. The
plunging in her cunt increased, driving the already deep butt plug even further
into her ass and bringing with it sensations of pain and sensual arousal. Then
she felt the surge of semen being fired rapidly into her cunt. He came in
several jerks, then all motion ceased.

      
Groff
knelt on the bed, her hips still slowly moving, her pussy muscles clasping the
softening prick. To her surprise, this movement seemed to stimulate him again
and in a few minutes her unknown fucker was at it again, charging into her with
renewed enthusiasm, murdering her tits and shouting for her to “come on, come
on, you fucking pony” as he drilled into her now totally liquefied cunt. This
time it took longer, but the impact of his release was just as strong as before
and this time Groff was with him, ramming her hips and ass back against him,
chewing furiously on her bit and gag, tugging at the ropes on her wrists,
crying silently inside the pony head as she finally got the first real orgasm
she had had in years.

      
“Is this the way I need to be fucked?”
Groff
asked herself as her breathing began to slow and her rapist pulled out and got
off the bed. “
Can it be that this is what
I need? Am I that much of a masochist or is this just self punishment for the
hard life of a detective?”

Party

      
“Screw
it,” muttered an annoyed and frustrated Fabian at the gala dinner that evening
in the Greenhouse’s dining saloon. His thirty-three male and female guests
looked up as one and awaited his next, hopefully clarifying comment. Fabian
raised his wine glass and said, “A toast to Doctor Brenner, who, despite his
best efforts, failed today to convince anyone here that our little rubber
queens can have a useful purpose.”

      
“Hear,
hear,” the assembled diners uttered jointly with less enthusiasm than one might
expect, given the amount of money and work that had gone into producing the
somewhat lackluster underwater show.

      
“Tell
me, Fabian,” said one elegantly dressed male diner. “What is your next move
with these creatures? Will you install gills and fins?” A ripple of laughter
began at the end of the table and quickly died as it reached Fabian.

      
“These
‘creatures’ that you observed today are mere curiosities. With Doctor Brenner’s
help, we have sealed them in rubber and in rubber they will stay for the rest
of their pitiful, meaningless lives. They are nothing but toys and their lives
will now be little more than worthless motions in a dark and sightless,
soundless world. They may be underwater or in a forest or wherever I put them,
but they will not ever again enjoy this world as we know it. They are less than
pets. They are mere rubberized creatures.” He finished this lengthy statement
breathlessly, took a long drink from his wine glass and sat back, a bit of
sweat glistening on his forehead.

      
“But
why?” another guest asked.

      
“Because
I enjoy watching them suffer,” said Fabian darkly as he waved his hand and a
curtain on one long wall of the room slowly slid back, revealing the four
women, still encased in their rubber skin.

      
“
Ahhhh
,” murmured several guests simultaneously as they
turned their heads and looked once again at the displayed creatures hanging
listlessly from overhead chains, only a few meters away. Lucy, Brenda,
Bibi
and Groff each hung from their own single chains,
ankles spread wide by steel bars cuffed to their feet, their heads still
enclosed in the black helmets, their rubber-encased bodies shining in the
candlelight. The overhead chains were tight and their bodies stretched by other
chains extending downward from the spreader bars. They breathed soundlessly
through the helmet and hoses. Every detail of their bodies showed through the
transparent rubber coating: their full breasts with rigidly ringed nipples,
their tight, shapely asses, their shaven and slightly open cunts with the ivory
dildoes
deeply embedded. Thin metal wires led from
their cable-encircled waists through their legs and up through their buttocks,
snugly retaining the
dildoes
and butt plugs.

      
“To
the creatures,” shouted one guest, holding his glass high and gesturing towards
the four hanging figures.

      
“Yes,
why not?” said Fabian. “Here’s to the creatures.”

***

      
A
few levels below,
Mickeal
lay face down on the stone
floor of his cell. He was motionless and did not appear to be breathing. The
guard, after peering through the spy peephole, opened the door and advanced
cautiously, her
taser
poised at the ready. When she
was standing next to
Mickeal
, she reached down to
feel his carotid artery and
Mickeal
brought his left
foot up hard, smashing the calloused heel into the guard’s right ear. The
taser
fell to the floor.
Mickeal
shifted his weight and brought up his foot again, this time catching the
stunned guard in the nose, breaking the bone and showering him with her blood.
The twin blows were enough to knock the woman down and
Mickeal
was quickly on top of her with his strong thighs wrapped around her neck.
Flexing his legs and powerful back with an upward pull and a quick twist, he
broke her thin neck. He turned around, reached for the guard’s keys on her belt
and quickly found one for the handcuffs. Getting the key into the hole took
longer than he wanted it to take. The heavy padlock on the neck chain was easy
to unlock. By the time he was out of the cell,
taser
in one hand and chain in the other, he was worried that someone might already
be wondering about the guard.

      
He
shouldn’t have worried, because in the dining room upstairs, Fabian’s Fabulous
Foursome of hanging hostages was entertaining the guests. The women, still
fully encapsulated in their rubber skins, were being systematically whipped,
one at a time, by various guests who expressed an interest.

      
Fabian
officiated, taking suggestions from the rapt audience. After a few minutes, the
helmets and breathing hoses were removed. Plain rubber balls were substituted
for their gags. All four were being soundly flogged, but Lucy and Groff seemed
to be the most popular.
Bibi’s
large ringed breasts
were the most sought after target. For a few rounds of this game, the women
just hung from their chains, heads lolling, but Fabian’s assistants then
suggested some variations and these were quickly implemented. Brenda’s slim
legs were released from the floor and pulled upward so that she was suspended
hand and foot, looking like a human hammock. Naturally, the whip blows then
fell on her back and buttocks. Her screams easily penetrated the ball gag in
her mouth and each whip blow caused her to twist and shudder in the chains.

      
The
noise from the dining room was overwhelming. All four tormented prisoners were
howling through their gags while the guests laughed and shouted instructions to
those plying the whips.

      
“Give
the blond another five on her tits,” someone shouted.

      
“Spread
her legs so she feels it in her cunt,” another yelled.

      
“Tie
them tit to tit,” a handsome female guest suggested.

This novel idea
almost stopped the pace, but Fabian’s assistants hustled over and used rope to
bind Groff and Lucy by their nipple rings and then, for effect, connected their
ankles to each other as well. Now the whip blows fell on their backs and each
stroke forced one or the other to swing away from the strike, pulling the other
with her. Lucy, perhaps because she was well accustomed to this kind of abuse,
seemed almost lethargic, swinging in rhythm to the blows, trying not to tug too
hard on Groff’s ringed tits as they recoiled from the whip strikes. She grunted
and moaned as the strikes became more frequent.

Groff, on the
other hand, new to this sort of punishment, screamed out loud each time the
whip connected. The ball gag served little purpose other than to distort her
cries. Groff was tough, but she still reacted instinctively to the blows.
Bibi
and Brenda were in a constant slow rotation. The
guards plying their whips on these two discovered that with a certain twist of
the hand, the whip, when pulled away after the strike, caused the hanging body
to rotate, so this was now sport for them. The more they turned the more varied
the places where the whip struck.

Meanwhile,
Fabian continued to call the shots, telling one
whipper
to change pace, another to slow down, and another to target specific body
parts. The audience loved it, drinking vast quantities of alcohol and wine. The
servers were busy refilling glasses and running, as fast as their chains
allowed, to and from the serving stations. No one was paying any attention to
anything outside the room.

***

      
On
the lower levels of the building,
Mickeal
made his
way through the labyrinth of cells and chambers, slowly picking his targets
among the guards and others who seemed to live there. At first, he used the
chain that had been on his neck as his primary weapon. As he carefully worked
his way through several layers of security, he realized that these guards and
check points were all calibrated with the fallacious assumption that no one was
going to get out of the cells and the chains they wore, so there were only a few
guards. Those that he encountered were not especially talented in martial arts
nor equipped to deal with the Amsterdam detective who was by now running on
high adrenalin levels. Each time he came to a door or gate, he simply knocked
on it, waited until the guard opened it and peered out, searching for whoever
had knocked. Each curious guard was rewarded with a deadly slash of the heavy
chain.
Mickeal
was not in a merciful mood and he
didn’t want any survivors awakening and sounding the alarm, so he took no
prisoners. It took only one or two blows to put the lightweight women into
unconsciousness or coma.
Mickeal
carefully relieved
the guards of their firearms, mostly 9mm Berettas, and locked their wrists to
doors, bars or pipes using their own set of cuffs, even though they were
unconscious. Along the way, he acquired several more 9mm pistols, several
knives and a pair of grey trousers from one of the larger female guards.
Working hard, he didn’t bother with a shirt, but was soon wearing three gun
belts, two slung over his shoulders bandoleer style and one on his waist. With
an array of handguns in holsters and stuck into the belts, he looked as
formidable as he was. He also took all of the ammo clips he found.

Rounding a
corner, he was suddenly face to face with a female guard who was totally
engrossed in the process of tormenting a young woman crouched on the floor,
wrists bound to a pulley overhead, her face buried in the guard’s crotch. With
a riding crop in one hand and the other wrapped in the prisoner’s long, dark
hair the guard was very slow to respond. Also, the utter shock of seeing
Mickeal
come around the corner, armed with multiple
handguns, was too much, considering that the guard was nearing her own personal
orgasmic satisfaction and that you could have probably presented her with a
living Elvis and gotten no visible reaction.
Mickeal
recovered first. The guard hesitated a second too long and
Mickeal
shot her in the face at nearly point blank range. Blood and tissue from her
blasted head sprayed around the enclosed space. The bound captive, having no
idea what was happening, pulled her head back and started to scream. She got
out a single muted yell before
Mickeal
unhappily cold
cocked her with a pistol barrel to the temple. Instead of falling over, the
unconscious girl remained hanging from the pulley while the dead guard toppled
back and fell in a bloody heap at the base of the concrete wall.
Mickeal
was about to move on when he noticed that the now
unconscious prisoner was held in her awkward crouch not only by the overhead
pulley rope, but also by chains from her ankles and waist binding her to rings
on the floor. Further inspection by
Mickeal
revealed
that she was impaled on a thick metal post that was fitted into a hole in the
stone floor and disappeared up into her pussy.

“No wonder she wasn’t moving much,”
Mickeal
thought. “
The
poor thing was mounted on a pole and chained down to the floor. Giving head to
this bitch was not an option. Jesus, these people are truly nuts.”

      
He
freed the impaled body from its post and left her where she was, then he took
the elevator up three levels, trying hard to rein in his anger at what he had
just seen. He stepped out into an empty hallway and cautiously found his way to
the dining room by following the sounds of women screaming and men laughing. He
hoped that the screams were not from
Bibi
. Coming
around a corner in the corridor,
Mickeal
suddenly
encountered an incredibly beautiful, naked, chained and gagged serving slave,
heading back to the kitchen with an empty silver tray still locked to her
wrists. When she saw him, she started to flee, but
Mickeal
grabbed her, holding her close, and put his finger to his lips. When she
stopped struggling, it took him a few seconds to unlock her cuffs and collar,
and tell her to get out of the building. She turned and ran, her cute rounded
butt jiggling as she fled down the hall.
      
“
Too bad the rest won’t be that easy
,”
Mickeal
thought.

      
There
was no way of knowing how many guards were available throughout the building or
actually in the dining room. He also didn’t know if the guests were armed.
Standing behind a wall drapery and listening to the noise a few meters down the
corridor,
Mickeal
debated his next move. He could try
to escape the building and return later with enough manpower to take on Fabian
and his gang, but by then he feared that the women would be gone or, worse,
disposed of since they were evidence of Fabian’s criminal activity. If he
stayed and tried to win against overwhelming odds, the chance of success was
very low. His best option, he felt, was to wait and try to free at least Groff
and
Bibi
, who would make good allies and help level
the field a bit. As he stood there, the noise seemed to abate with fewer cries
and less shouting from the now obviously drunken party. Suddenly, another
stunning and fully chained serving girl shuffled by. She was stark naked except
for a shiny transparent rubber skin. Like the previous serving slave, she wore
the usual gag, collar, waist, wrist and ankle chains, all joined together.
Astonished,
Mickeal
did a double take and realized
this was
Evie
, a policewoman from Amsterdam. He knew
her very well and they had enjoyed some exciting times together less than a
year ago when she suddenly disappeared. Some brochures and airline ticket
searches on her personal notebook computer seemed to indicate that she had
planned to take a trip to South America, but there was nothing conclusive.
Nevertheless, there was no sign of foul play and it was finally determined by
the police, based on the small amount of circumstantial evidence, that she left
the country with a new and secret suitor. That unlikely scenario baffled
Mickeal
, but it pretty much closed the case.