The Last Straw - Chapter 17
Posted: Sun Nov 24, 2024 9:28 pm
by neverdoubted
Sending a muffled cry into her rope gag, she started running toward the barn – the only refuge in sight. But she only made it a step or so before her head was jerked around. The lead rope running from her mouth had been pulled taut. Percy’s firm grip on the other end made him the arbiter of how far she could go. As long as you control the head, the rest has to follow.
Mary nearly lost her balance as the abrupt halt caused her to perform a naked pirouette. Now facing the crowd, everyone had a clear view of not only her obscene, bulging bust, but also her shaved heart and the private petals of her sex framed perfectly within the gap of her thighs.
“Such distinctive markings on this filly,” Percy teased when he saw the unusual shape of her pubic hair. Then, probably in reference to her large, healthy chest, he added, “she is a rare breed, indeed!”
She had been so careful to keep her privates hidden despite her lack of clothes. But now, with her arms tied behind her, every part of her body was revealed.
Seeing the audience gaping at her nude exhibition, Mary snorted and turned her back on them. Sensing she was about to attempt another flight, Percy called out, “whoa, Mare,” half to her and half playing to the audience. When his taunting words failed to calm her, the naked, bound girl took off running again. This time, he did not yank on her lead but loosened the slack a little and jogged beside her.
Percy was happy to let his naked filly put on an erotic show – jiggling and bouncing her way across the yard. But he had no intention of letting her reach the barn. As they got closer, he gradually collected the lead rope, turning her head and altering her course once more.
When Mary found herself inexplicably facing the crowd again, she reared up and bared her teeth in alarm. I don’t know why she couldn’t comprehend that the harness was making her run in a circle. Maybe it was just too much for her pretty little head to process while her sense of modesty was screaming at her to do something about her indecent exposure.
When shaking her head and flailing her trapped arms achieved nothing, she acted on instinct and did the only thing she could still do. She started running again. Percy was content to stand in one spot and let her make a large arc around him. To outpace him like this and escape was literally impossible. But in her frantic state, I’m not sure she was thinking very clearly.
To show his complete control over the situation, he raised his arms with a flourish – facing the crowd and holding the lead rope out at arm’s length while my naked, bound stepsister circled him in an erotic trot. The audience showed their appreciation with more whistles and applause which only spooked the frightened filly and made her run faster.
After a few laps, the rational parts of her brain finally caught up to the primitive ones and convinced her that running around mindlessly was literally getting her nowhere. Or she might have just got tired. It’s hard to say. But either way, she started to lag.
Coming to a stop, she sucked in large gulps of air which made her breasts somehow swell even bigger. Though she could not bear to look at them, from the expression on her face, she was acutely aware of the people around her and the humiliating fact that she had just jogged around for them buck naked with her arms trapped behind her back.
The nefarious knot in her mouth kept her teeth bared while she panted for air. Occasionally, she would flex her upper arms and wiggle her shoulders to try and free them from the harness. The only thing that accomplished was to make her nipples bounce erotically upon her jiggling breasts. Knowing exactly what was keeping her from escaping, she glared at the lead rope in Percy’s hand.
“I’m afraid this is what’s called a false break, folks,” Percy calmly explained, “the signs are all there if you know how to look for them. Wild horses are clever. Sometimes they’ll try to fool you. But an experienced hand can always tell.”
Mary was no longer trying to run away, but she still looked like she would bolt as soon as she got the chance. If that’s what he meant by ‘false break’, I guess it kind of fit. But did that mean he was going to try and break her for real? If so, he was in for a surprise. This cowboy might have experience with real horses. But I doubt he had ever encountered one as headstrong as Mary. And her elevated levels of humiliation would only make his job harder. As far as I know, real horses don’t have a sense of modesty motivating their actions.
He made his intention clear when, coming around behind her, he reached into his boot and pulled out a long, thin rod of wood. It had a leather-wrapped handle on one end and a flat spade shape on the other. A riding crop! It was probably a good thing Mary didn’t see it, or she would have definitely been spooked.
“The worst thing you can do is leave the job half done,” he said dramatically. “Sometimes, you just gotta wind ’em up and let ’em run it out of their system.”
Holding the crop just beyond her periphery, he swung it back and let it fly along with an assertive, “Hyah!”. Swishing through the air, the crop landed with a sharp crack right across the meat of her unprotected bottom. Mary flailed her trapped arms. Then, letting out a squeal that was much more porcine than equine, she ran for her life.
Her teeth were bared, and her head cocked to one side as she strained against the harness. Her naked exhibition no longer her top concern, she ran with a wild abandon that caused her braided ponytail to fly out behind her. Every time she came around, I could see the whites of her wild eyes trained on the man brandishing his crop in one hand and her lead rope in the other. Her singular desire was to keep him from striking her tender, raw hide again.
As if she needed further motivation, with flicks of his wrist, he would swish the crop through the air just behind her with an ominous sound. The spade never hit home, but the threat alone was enough to drive her onward.
On and on she ran. People didn’t just go jogging for fun back then, so I can’t say I knew she was capable of this kind of endurance. But even as a healthy young woman in good physical shape, she impressed me with how long she kept up the galloping pace.
My only regret was that I didn’t have the presence of mind to get out my camera. I’m still mad at myself for not thinking to snap a few photos of my naked stepsister, bound in a harness and kicking up a cloud of dust as an authentic cowboy ran her in a circle by her mouth.
Eventually, something miraculous happened. Still hearing the swish of the crop behind her, she kept running as hard as she could go. But at some point, I noticed her head wasn’t as crooked as it had been. She was running in smaller circles which allowed her to run more upright. She was still panting and her teeth were bared from exertion, but her eyes were less wild and looking forward instead of at Percy.
He must have noticed the subtle shift in her disposition as well, because he stopped swishing the crop. She completed a couple more circles before she ran out of breath and had to stop.
“Now that’s a proper workout,” Percy praised her, “time for a cool down walk.”
As the cloud began to settle around her, he lowered the crop to his side took her for a walk around the pen to cool down. He only had to use the lightest grip on the rope. As if she had lost her fighting spirit, Mary let him lead her right up to and around the edge of the fence. With her rubbery legs wobbling, her nostrils flared with every deep breath of oxygen she sucked into her lungs.
Her thorough transition from headstrong girl to obedient beast of burden was astounding. But other than getting a little dirty, she looked no worse for wear. Brought in close proximity to the crowd of gawkers, she couldn’t even summon the energy to blush even though her massive, heaving bosom and distinctive pubic markings were on full exhibition. I don’t think she even saw me when she was paraded past. Like a well-trained show pony, her full attention was on the rope leading from her mouth and hanging loosely from Percy’s open palm.
When she was past me, I saw a thin red stripe where the crop had marked her bottom. I think it looked worse than it was because of the paleness of her fair flesh.
Leading her back to his pile of supplies, he looked in his saddle bag and pulled out another rope. This one was the smallest yet and shaped a little like a figure eight with a buckle at each end.
“Once you’ve shown your horse who is really in control, it becomes much easier to manage them. Most times, all you need is a simple hobble to keep them in line. Now there are many different kinds of hobbles,” he explained, opening the buckles and approaching his docile subject, “it’s important to pick the right one for the job.”
Wrapping a loop around each of her legs, he made the buckles just tight enough to keep them from slipping down past her knees. The short cord between them looked effective in preventing her from taking big strides and would have made running impossible.
“If you’re out on the range, you can leave your horse in one of these grazing hobbles all night. They can graze comfortably while you sleep and, come morning, won’t be more than a hundred feet from where you left ’em.”
To prove his point, he dropped the lead rope and let it hang free from Mary’s face to drag in the dirt. I expected her to immediately use her freedom to flee toward the barn like before. She did take a few, shuffling steps away from him, but came to a stop soon after. Either she was too worn out to flee or had simply surrendered to his authority much like a broken horse might. Either way, she only seemed to care about putting some distance between herself and the wicked crop still in his hand.
Turning his back on her, Percy bowed toward the audience who rewarded him with another round of applause. I clapped along even though what he had just done wasn’t all that impressive. He had attached her legs together with a short piece of rope. So what?
Tossing his saddlebag over his shoulder, he picked up her lead again. It felt like the show was winding down, but I guess he had one more thing he wanted to demonstrate before dismissing the naked filly. Using a pace that was slow enough for her to keep up even while hobbled, he led her to a spot where the corral fence met the barn.
“There’s nothing worse for a horse’s health and well-being than to be rode hard and put away wet,” he said, “that’s why proper grooming is so important, especially after such a good workout.”
He stopped where a small hitching post had been installed just inside the corral. The hand-hewn log about six feet long – either the trunk of a young tree or a branch off an older one – had been quartered and mounted about waist height by two others set into the ground.
I had seen cowboys in movies tie the reigns of their horses to similar horizontal posts before heading inside a saloon. But Percy felt the need to make special accommodations for his woman-shaped horse. Stepping around the post, he kept guiding the confused mare forward until her hips were touching the quarter log. Then, instead of lashing her to the post, he threw the rope around the upper log of the fence a few feet in front of her.
As he started to pull the rope tight, Mary found herself being gradually bent over the log! Her top half was pulled horizontal with her neck stretched out by the harness and her head raised. Held in this precarious position by the rope sticking straight out from her mouth, her flexed toes appeared to be the only thing keeping her from losing her balance and tipping over the bar. If she could spread her feet a little, she might have found a better bracing angle. But the hobble rope wouldn’t let her. So, she just teetered on the balls of her feet.
Her elbows formed a hump where they met high in the air behind her back. The pose caused her gorgeous, naked rump to also stick out prominently.
Satisfied with his work, Percy knotted the stretched rope in place before calling back to his audience. “If any of you young’uns, twelve and under, would like to try your hand at grooming, it is now safe to cross the fence and join me in the corral.”
With fathers looking on jealously, every single boy broke for the fence at once. They weren’t about to pass up a chance at an intimate encounter with a naked, bound girl. Even though I was a little outside the age cutoff, I climbed over the fence anyway. From the looks of them, I wasn’t the only teenager trying to pass himself off as younger just to get closer to Mary. It’s not like anyone was checking birth certificates.
With the main attraction being moved to the other side of the corral, a stampede broke out as the rest of the crowd rushed around the outside. They all wanted to claim the best viewing spots of the naked filly bent over her hitching post and lashed in place just a few feet from the fence.
Percy ordered the kids to form a line and produced a large brush from his bag. He showed them how to groom my stepsister by brushing a little dirt off her flank then handed the brush to the first boy.
It didn’t seem to matter where the boy brushed. Mary squirmed and flinched at every stroke. Seeing her hands balled into tight fists the whole time, and from the way she kept sucking in sharp breaths through gritted teeth, I could guess the bristles were made from something a lot stiffer and more abrasive than a regular hairbrush.
After his turn was complete, the boy reluctantly handed the brush over to the next one in line and was instructed to return to his father. The men on the other side of the fence couldn’t see her from behind. But they still had a spectacular view. Bent over the log with her arms trapped behind her, her massive chest continued to be thrust out obscenely. Her perfect, teenage breasts hung down in front for everyone in the audience to enjoy. And with her head raised and held in place by the harness, she was practically staring them in the face the whole time.
At some point, Percy reminded us, “don’t forget to do her legs.” I can’t blame the boys for spending most of their time brushing her flank. Thrust out so prominently by her bent over position, her impressive bottom made an attractive and easy target.
The boy with the brush happily followed Percy’s instructions. Mary bristled visibly as he brushed his way down the backs of her shapely legs and calves all the way to her ankles. As he worked back up, she wiggled her bottom urgently from side to side to keep his overly ambitious brush away from her vulnerable nether region.
In no hurry, I had chosen the back of the line. By the end, all the dirt had been brushed away from her pristine hide. But I wasn’t about to let that stop me from taking my turn. I received the brush, but before starting, I walked more forward than the other boys had done. I wanted to get into her field of vision.
It took a second for awareness that it was me standing there holding the brush to dawn on her. Recognizing me, she tried to call out something that might have been my name. But the bit in her mouth made her impossible to understand.
“Chh-chh-chh,” I whispered, trying to mimic the sounds that Percy had used earlier. But too agitated by my presence, she rejected my attempts to calm her. Instead, she bucked against her harness, still trying to form words despite the large knot in her mouth.
Having made my presence known, I returned to her right flank. Unable to turn her head at all, she tracked me with bulging eyes as far as she could before losing track of me outside her periphery. She couldn’t see me anymore, but I had another way of making my presence known.
Crouching, I took a moment to appreciate the ripe, teenage melons wobbling beneath her as she bucked uselessly against her bridle. Her matching pink nipples formed perfect, dangling tips – dancing erotically from the excess motion.
I fully intended to brush her rear flank like the other boys had done. But seeing a much more interesting opportunity, I couldn’t pass it up. When I placed the business end of the brush near her exposed armpit and began to drag it down toward her right breast, she froze. And when I reached the spot where her torso ended and her anatomy bulged to mark the start of her bust, she let out a snort that morphed into a groan of dismay.
Either those stiff bristles were more abrasive than I thought or that part of her body was especially sensitive. I was tempted to keep going and see how she would react to having her nipples groomed. But then, she started panting again. And when I saw the fine hairs on the back of her arm standing on end, I thought better of it.
Returning to her torso, I brushed my way down her ribcage. She sucked in her stomach adorably and had goosebumps forming everywhere I went. I brushed over her narrow waist and rounded hips without incident. But when I reached her bottom proper, she winced. So many other boys had already cleaned that area that it was starting to turn pink.
I had already taken more time than everyone else. So, with a final swipe, I stood up. I started to hand the brush back to Percy, but because he was busy wrapping up the show and unhitching Mary from the post, I just held onto it for now.
“Well, folks, I hope you enjoyed my little presentation today,” he announced, “and let’s have a special round for Mare.”
As vigorous applause broke out over Mary’s spectacular performance, he handed me the lead rope with instructions to take her into the barn. He apparently didn’t want her being a distraction while he was making his final solicitation. The last I saw before leading my docile, naked stepsister into the barn was Percy turning his ten-gallon hat over to collect the donations from men who were rushing to open their wallets and show their appreciation.
As soon as we were safely away from the crowd and out of sight, the suddenly chatty girl started mumbling into her gag. I didn’t need a translator to know her meaning. She was done being a horse and eager to get back to being a girl – to say nothing of her hard-earned clothes. I had no trouble removing the hobble from around her knees, but the harness itself proved more difficult a puzzle. I had learned a few knots from boy scouts, but the contraption he had built to hold her was beyond me. Growing increasingly agitated by her continued bondage, she gargled something in an angry and impatient tone.
“I’m trying, I really am,” I apologized, tugging at the knots behind her head, “it’s not budging.”
She offered what might have been a suggestion, but without being able to remove the gag, our conversation was quite one-sided.
“Wait here and I’ll go ask Percy how to undo it,” I offered.
But when I started toward the barn door, she rushed to block my path. I should have guessed that, still naked and bound, with a bunch of horny spectators milling around outside, she wouldn’t like the idea of being left in here all alone.
“Mmmm, mfff o fuffmmm,” she tried to say. But I understood none of it.
“What do you want? Do you want to come with me?”
With wide, frightened eyes, she shook her head forcefully.
“I don’t understand. Look, you have to let me leave.”
But as soon as I tried to step around her, she blocked me again – making a pitiful whinny. Realizing she was being frozen by indecision, I made up her mind for her. Percy had just put on a masterful clinic on how to deal with a willful, unruly horse. It would have made him proud to see me putting his lessons to good use so soon afterward.
“It will just be a minute,” I promised. Then, taking control of the situation, I lunged for the lead rope still hanging from her mouth. Mary reared back defensively, but her reaction was not fast enough, and she had no way to stop me. Giving the rope an assertive yank, I threw her off balance and she stumbled forward.
Taking advantage of her momentum, I got her over to a large supply hook that had been mounted high on the wall. With snorts of disapproval, she fought me the whole way. But once I got the rope over the hook, I was able to turn it into a pulley and use my own weight as leverage to drag her all the way up against the wall. I secured the rope by tying it to a nearby post.
Completely incapacitated with her whole body stretched out and her head tilted straight up, she threw an unintentionally adorable and quite sexy tantrum. She squealed into her gag with increasing alarm – struggling against her bonds and stomping her foot in frustration. Couldn’t she see I was doing this for her own good?
Whispering calming assurances into her ear like Percy had done, I said, “I’m not going to leave you here, Mary. Look, I’ll even put down my pack to show that I’m coming back. You just have to trust me, ok?”
As I backed away, her incoherent protests grew louder and more insistent. But she didn’t really have much choice in the matter. She could whine and stomp all she wants, but she would just have to dangle there buck naked against the wall until I had retrieved the man who could free her.
