Midnight-Pearl

'Midnight-Pearl' (by Eve Adorer)

Chapter 10 – A Prescient Present

Ever never after I was never ever whether sure, if I had dreamed the horrendous scene of Sparrow-Hop's live writhe roasting. The scene was too terrible for the mind to store or recall, but revolt and recoil yes.

She was no longer among us, that much was for sure.

I was so disgusted at my reaction to it too. I had seen it only as a masturbatory fantasy and orgasmed at the sight of it, so overpoweringly erotic had I found it, not least after the constant pounding of my minx by the eighteen-inch penis-coupling by which Naughty-Nymph and I had hauled the phaeton with our cunts, even whilst I had fought the good fight not to suffer the unedifying indignity of a demeaning cum from my own torture.

I had resisted the ultimate in degradation. I had successfully fought against coming in my bondage. My mistresses did not care a jot if I had a cum or not, but for me to cum in my bondage because of my bondage, was the supreme way to degrade and control me. Were I, a highly intelligent eighteen-year-old girl, to become so that my bondage was sex to me, I would fear my bondage not only for the severe stress it put my beautiful body through, but also because it led to my further diminution and animalisation. If I came as a consequence of the labour I was forced to whilst wearing it, I came as an animal and not as a girl: I came as an 'it' and not as a 'she'.

My cums in bondage were animal cums: they were not human cums. No mere girl could experience the cums I had had. Such cums needed the removal of the supervening intervening interfering human intellect. At the time of their happening I was my cunt, I was my whole cunt, and I was nothing but my cunt. And I wanted to fight these cums because they depraved me. My cums betrayed me to the sub-human world to which my ponygirl bondage had exiled me from the heavenly world of my fellow, now former fellow, girls.

The massivity of my cums was monumental, and thus fundamental in destroying my veneer of girlness, and confirming my animality: in forcing my "itness" to replace my "sheness".

Epileptic in their ecliptic power over my humanity, I was in fear of them. I wanted to cum but I did not want to cum. I did not want to be overwhelmed so by the animal that was at the core of me, such that the core was become the outer of me. I did not want to have my desire for the heaven of the cums I was experiencing to finally tip me over the boundary, beyond which I really and truly lost the last flicker of the fight to remain holding the torn vestige of the hymen of my human girlness.

I was regarded as an animal. I was treated as an animal. I was forced to behave as an animal. I feared beyond fear that my cum-longing, my natural girl's desire for sexual fulfilment in the ultimate of the orgasm, would take me and make me an animal and an animal alone: that I would, through my cums, transubstantiate from girl to pony, to the point of no return. My cums were catalytic to my conversion and thus a perversion from which I must adhere to my aversion.

I was in fear that I would be punished for buckling at the knees with a cum at the sight of pretty little Sparrow-Hop being spit roasted alive. I shudder at the mention of it! I deserved to be punished for that: not for my collapse but for my unholy wholly sadistic cum at such a horrible happening. I could never and would never understand how and why or why and how Sparrow-Hop could have died with an orgasm as she was slowly rotated being cooked alive as if she were just meat.

There she had been, alive live meat with a skewer right through her. Her little titty's nipples were already cooked into their erect aroused state. She had been enduring the ultimate raping fuck from the rod rammed up her cunt and right through her till it emerged from her mouth. And she was licking it! She was fellating her murderous lover, the spit upon which her body was completely and helplessly impaled as it was slowly rotated just above the red and yellow-hot coals. And the unyielding unmerciful flames from those coals were licking her bare flesh, roasting her body. She was still alive to feel her flesh kissed by the constant flames and her body beginning to cook, always and always rotated so that she would not be scorched but would be heated thoroughly through evenly! Oh god it had been so horrible!!

I was in fear that I would be punished for buckling at the knees with a cum, and yet for weeks on end I was left to exercise and cavort in the meadow, running riotously free, and playing tit-tag with my fellow ponygirls.

So long had been my captivity that by now, I had long since lost track of time. I knew the time of day to an approximation because I was guided by the sun. I knew what season of the year it was to an approximation because I saw the height of the sun. But I knew not what month it was for sure, what week in the month, what day of the week, and least of all what date of the day of the week of the month. All of these were the concerns of my superiors and need form no matter meet for my mind.

I had endured my slavery for months on end. I, of course, knew I had arrived in Spain at around Christmas of the preceding year, and that another year was yet to fully elapse. We had gone through spring and summer, and with the evolving revolving calendar had dissolved my fantasy that a police raid would one day free me from my horrible constant cruciform bondage, release my neck from the gold giraffing rings, see my pretty little bells clattered to the ground, take the bit from my mouth so I could talk once more, and dismount me from standing always on the erotically stretched legs of a girl always on the tip-tip-top of her big toes in pony-shoe shod hoof-clogs.

Of course my beautiful buttocks would always display the 'HSS-AR' brand burnt into me. I would forever be labelled the property of Her Supreme Serenity the Princess Astrid Maria Poliphnia Sarahnaya De Palmania-Thomasatto-Riento. But with the passage of time had gone my assumption that my bondage, unlike the brand, would not last. I no longer had any right to conclude that this torture had an end. I could no longer fool myself that this was tantamount only to transient temporary terror. Only my will kept me from despairing.

Of course I knew that I was still Emma. I was still Emma Jones the shy pretty eighteen-year-old university student. Oh please call me Emma! Someone please call me Emma! But then I knew in my heart that Emma was gone. I was, despite my fight, having to accept that I was and was only and completely now Midnight-Pearl. It was become such, had I realised it, and I did not realise it, because it was not tested, that had "Emma" being called out, I would not have reacted: just as it had become that my lovely face was raised tinkling my multiple face bells in the instant of the calling out of "Midnight-Pearl".

The girl had gone away; the pony was here to stay. My mistresses had had their say. I was Midnight-Pearl first and foremost and Emma not even almost. I was to forever trot: Emma was foregone and forgot.

………….

My body was cold as the rain trickled like angels' tears all down all round my heavenly shape. The silken soft rippling rapids of a rolling river flowed in the ravine between my soft gentle breastal mountains, and their peaks, high above the snowline as they would have been were they the mere Everests of earth, capped with nipple-brown-pink where the earthly snow would gravity and sun defy, contributed myriad millions of sweet trickling contributory tributaries to my heaven's valley river's flow.

I was wet. I was soaking wet. I was thoroughly wet from head to pretty feet. I was shivering and quivering with the coldness of being wet in the breeze of an autumnal day, and my bosoms were jiggering and joggering as the soft rain ran down them and dripped or gathered and dribbled droplet nectar streams from my huge bold brown-pink negress' nipples.

I briskly shook my soft-tight-short-curly-dark-brown-haired head and rainbowed a thrice-multi-coloured halo around my lovely face as the droplets scattered three-hundred-and-sixty-degreeingly from my close-cropped negress' curls-within-curls.

I was excitingly enticingly beautiful when wet. My coffee-coloured negress' skin sheen-shining with a glow of erogenous perfection: droplets of sweet soft rain dripping from my sweet firm-soft nipples: rivulets running the complex contoured completely curvy course of my compelling legs.

I was about to be put to plough. My beautiful youthful body was to be made useful in turning the soil by its toil.

I was solo and so low because I was lonely and frightened.

Before me was the huge virgin field, all tall unkempt grass and tugging hugging weeds. And I was going to be made to plough it. I had no choice in the matter. I had been chosen to pull the plough: pull the plough I must, pull the plough I would.

I was giraffed and cruciform-cangued and bell bedecked to tinkle like heaven's hell's heaven, as I shivered awaiting, naked else, to be fitted to the plough I must obediently pull or else.

My plough-mistress was arranging her rainwear. She smelt delightfully of rubber. Naked beneath it, she wore a sleeved huge rubber cape down to her ankles, and a hat with brim so wide as to shrug of the rain that poured from it onto the cape without touching the humid human warmth of her lovely body in ten-inch-heeled knee-high boots. Kim Kai was to drive me and had been ordered to show no mercy.

The plough of bright shiny stainless steel, had four blades to bite the earth and turn the turf before the serf and her pony, eponymous me.

The blades were mounted side by side on a strong bar. Up from the middle of the strong bar rose two more bars, one leading fore to where the pony would be harnessed, and one aft, with a handle formed like a 'T', for the plough-mistress to hold and guide the blades. To give the plough substance and purchase, the four share blades were sharp and there were lead weights on the bar the blades hung down from, to press them and keep them in the ground once they had been dug in.

Kim Kai had led me by a short rein from the ring of a steel bit that had been forced into my mouth. This bit was huge rustic and unyielding. Solid cold steel, its one-and-a-half-inch diameter gaped my mouth extremely wide and painfully, pushing my tongue completely down and grinding my teeth, so hard was it pulled back into me.

I wore huge side and tunnel-funnel blinkers. Firstly, black leather half-moon shaped side blinkers. The straight side of the semi-circles these formed at the sides of each of my eyes, being married to three-inch-long tubes of the same leather that I wore integrally with the side blinkers, in the manner of eyeglasses pulled up close to my face so that they looked like glassless binoculars permanently at my eyes.

These side-blinkers and tube-blinkers were to control me. I must not be allowed to see any more than I needed to see so that I would not be distracted from pulling the plough.

The huge steel bit and the side and eye-tube blinkers had been strapped to my head before Kim Kai had led me to the field, and let me taste on my nakedness the wetness of a day which was the second of which on which it had rained from dawn to dusk and back again.

Of course I wore a blazoning band brazenly across me forehead shouting to all who needed to know, which need no longer include me, as I knew all to well by now, that this sensationally sensuously curvy creature was 'Midnight-Pearl': a farmer's pony: a former girl.

I wriggled in my wet waspie, fifteen-inch waif-waist-wiggle-waisted, swinging my gorgeous bottom as Kim Kai led me out where there was no sun, with my tail up my anus, soaked and dripping, such that even the erotic undulations of my super-feminised hip-swings, could not cause it to flick to and fro with all its usual magical magisterial majesty.

A girlplough-pony must keep its lovely eyes always cast humbly to ground and never be allowed to look around, and my heavy blinkers would ensure, that in that I was found sound.

I would, of course, wear tit-reins so that I could be instructed in the only way a ponygirl understands, in my movements and my turning. And I must suffer the twin agony of having extra-long nipple-bits inserted into my nipples' milk-holes this day.

And I gasped and closed my eyes and bit down on the savage huge bit, as I suffered the horrendous pain of having six-inch long needles pushed into my titties through the central hole in my nipples, to be held there to agonise me, by the multi-toothed crocodile clips in which these six-inch-long needle nipple-bits formed a central tongue.

My tit-reins were fed through the hoops at the ends of my mouth bit, and the dog clips at the end of these reins next my nipples, opened so as to clip my reins to rings in the nipple-biting crocodile six-inch-long-nipple-bit-needle-holding clips.

Tears from terrible pain filled my gentle devil-deep-dark-brown eyes.

Today I was to be a girlplough-pony, and so I must also be fitted with straight-furrow-guides.

I had, as of yet, no idea what these were as the agony in my nipples was increased by my having one-foot long chains clipped and dangled, one from each nipple-bit. Both of these chains hung like plumb-lines, with a one-pound lead weight pulling unmercifully hard on my poor tits.

This was why I wore extra-long nipple bits. The pull of these chains tugged the needles in my breasts cruelly as they swung uncontrollably freely from my nipples so feely.

If I had thought the penis-coupling of the Giggle and the phaeton to be huge and painful I was now to be gainful of a hard lesson in the true meaning of pain. From a four-foot chain at the front rising handle of the plough hung a two-foot-long, three-inch diameter, spiked steel penis-coupling, covered and caked in the mud in which, on this soaking wet day, it lay adangle.

This was to go up my cunt. I must have all two-feet of this ripping tearing raping rasping obedience conformer forced into my vagina.

I was led before the plough and faced it with my lovely bare rain running bottom, before being made to bend, straight legged slightly apart parted, and having my lead rein tethered to a huge rock with a hoop in it readied for the purpose. And my inhuman human screams of unbearable pain to be borne, as I was torn, echoed from the distant woodland as my nether lips were sundered and the two-foot-long, three-inch-wide penis was pushed inexorably inside my minx, with the multiple needle spikes with which it was spitefully spikeley adorned ripping my softness so that I bled, and was thus led to understand that I was animal cunt and no more.

And I screamed as the two-feet of tearing steel, still filthy wet and muddy from the ground on which it had rested, slowly filled me. And I moaned as my softness nestled to the spikes that bit into the walls of my minx. And I cried endless tears of pain in the rain as the girl from Spain fixed the crupper chain to me again, so that with my cunt the plough I could and would full pull. And the reason for the spiteful spiked penis-coupling filling me, was to increase my super-sensitivity, so that I would not from the straight furrow stray away that day.

The chain crupper soon held the penis-coupling deep thrust up me. Its 'Y' shape had its strong single tail attached to the heavy ring at middle-front of my waspie. The two chains of the 'V' of the 'Y', were then fed through a ring at the base of the penis-coupling pushed up me, before being divided to leave my ponytail unencumbered, and being padlocked to two strong rings at the rear of my waspie. I was filled with the agonising pin-prick-rip decorated cold steel penis, and the crupper chain's tightness held it hard up my cunt, full deep dark in my body's most gentle and sweetly sensitive orifice.

I sobbed with my endless agony as I remained bent double though now untethered. To walk bent like an inverted 'L' with my lovely arms outspread tied cruciform to my cangue, was my fate in pulling the weight of the plough to sate the hunger to torture my beauty by making me perform my duty.

The weights dangling from the chains hanging from my nipples swung and swang. These were my guarantee of a straight furrow. A girlplough-pony learns to have its plumb-lines swing only back and forward as it walks pulling the plough. If its tits are swinging only fore and aft in a regular rhythm, it is going straight and will sate the state of her mistress and save its back from the whip.

A good and experienced girlplough-pony sets its nipple plumb-lines swinging oppositely to one another, so that one tit is pulled maximally fore, just as the other is maximally rear, and thus it is sure it is correctly steered the right way all day.

Of course this hurts. An artist has to suffer for art, and the art of the girlplough-pony is to furrow the earth apart in a dead straight line.

A tangling of its plumb-lines will only bring strife and confusion to the girlplough-pony. From this it must be sorted with force. The brute is stupid and will only understand pain. The whip must be the constant companion of the plough-maid's gain, and again and again must it rain down to reign-in the girlplough-pony in its reins.

……………..

Kim Kai attached the long single loop of the equivalent of a carriage rein to the hoops in which my tit-reins ended at the further end from my nipples, where the large rings of the tit-reins prevented them falling through the smaller rings siding the ends of my mouth bit.

I stared dispassionately passionately pulchritudinously, dripping and slippery with the never-ending velvet rain that poured from the skies and tumbled down my heavenly thighs.

Kim Kai stood on the crossbar from which the ploughshares descended and thus sent them their descent into the soft muddy earth.

I waited obediently patiently for my orders to be given me, and felt the double tug on my tits to tell me to start walking.

She bore a whip of wicked weight. A long, long, three-ply plaited all along, leather intertwined tapering to tip, black leather bullwhip, pregnant with deep saturated steeped wetness from lying in the rain, having been purposely left to soak and gain the water that would increase its vicious violent pain.

Kim Kai had always hitherto been so kind and gentle with me, that the way she had dragged me out to the field, and the eagerness and cruelty with which she had filled my minx with the penis-coupling's huge enormity, told me that there was no solace in her sweetness for my soreness, but only sourness to savagely swat me in harness.

I dug in my tiptoed pony-shoe-shod feet with all the power of my wonderfully shapely legs, displaying the magnificence of their subtle supple muscularity, their curvaceously caressingly curved feminine strength, as "THWICK!!!!" Kim Kai whipped my exposed shoulders with a thwack that splattered the water torrenting down me in squirts of rainbow hue dew, as I hooted and hollered with agony from my cunt being ripped as I pulled and pulled to get the plough to move and cleave the soil and "THWICK!!!!" Kim Kai whipped my bare back unmercifully once more and I reared in reflex and cried out with pitiful pain and "THWICK!!!!" Kim Kai whipped me again.

My beautiful legs struggled to slither in the mud as the whip on me fell with a thud that thrashed its message into my cunt and raised livid live red welts on my naked nudeness. And I was pulling and pulling with all my might, all the might that could be mustered by my cunt: with cunt power I was pulling and I was getting nowhere as the ground was so muddy my hooves just slipped.

And Kim Kai cursed me as "THWICK!!!!" she whipped my provocatively bare bottom as hard as she could, to get this useless slut to do her bidding, and "THWICK!!!!" she whipped it again, the it that was me, she whipped so I screamed and tried to beg for mercy.

And then I was going I was going I was going! I was walking forward pulling the plough with my cunt! I was dividing the sod behind me. I was turning the earth in a fourfold four furrows, and I was crying with my pain as I walked. My lovely velvet soft tears were mingling with the constant rain that poured down my whip-striped coffee-brown body.

My walking with my wanky bummy wiggle set my plump-guides waving. They went every way to torture my nipples. I knew that I must set my tits swinging fore and aft. I knew instinctively that this would tell me I was ploughing a straight furrow. I worked my shoulders to set my plump-bobs aswing, and felt the agony of my tits being stretched and pulled in opposite motion fore and abaft, forward and aft, left and right, to keep me tight right on the path I must plough to please my mistress and to save me from the savagery of the whip on my nudity.

I was the complete slave, my head cast down as I bent forward to pull with all my might with my gorgeous legs shining with the wetness of the coursing rain caressing them. As I used the muscles of the trained runner I was to pull with my cunner.

My tits swung to and fro, fore and aft, being used as a tool to guide me, blind as I was to what was happening to the plough blades behind me. I was as much a tool as the plough itself though of less market value and more likely than it to be discarded rather than repaired if injured.

My lovely legs propelled me in the hell of my latest use and abuse. My owners, for they were my owners, and the onus of the emphasis must go on ownership rather than willing participation, could drive me to hell if they were so minded.

I was inaudibly begging for mercy as I pulled my obedient plough obediently, and still "THWICK!!!!" and "THWICK!!!!" and "THWICK!!!!" and "THWICK!!!!" and "THWICK!!!!", Kim Kai flogged me.

My eyes so heavily blinkered could see nothing but the ground, above which my queenly sweetly gently arrogant negress' head hung submissively, my hair running with rain, my ringlets of tight soft curly black, dripping with rainwater. Only by feeling the forward and backward swing of my tits could I be sure I was going straight.

My minx hurt like hades. The strong crupper chain held the penis-coupling two-feet up me for the greater part, but despite the spikes in the coupling that were meant to bite into my flesh and stop it being pulled in and out of me, as with the Giggle and the phaeton, I was being rhythmically slowly fucked by it.

The dildo the penis-coupling comprised, was moving insistently consistently back and forward back and forward many-mini-inches within me, tearing the supersensitive flesh of my most supersensitive part with its vicious spikes, so that I was bleeding, and then tearing me more so that I bled some more.

Were my mind not numbed with the pain, the pain that was in my mind to the degree that the pain was my mind, and I was become an inhuman human scream, I would have been aware that I was being put to the plough to punish me for collapsing in an orgasm before the princess' special guests on the day that Sparrow-Hop had been spit-roasted alive.

"THWICK!!!!" "THWICK!!!!" "THWICK!!!!" "THWICK!!!!" "THWICK!!!!", Kim Kai splashed the water off my naked back and screamed me some more, with her unmerciful whipping. I had wandered off the straight and narrow. So much was I at wonder from the pain in my cunt that I had let my guiding plumb-weights swing and clash and become forgetful of my duty to feel the swinging of my tits forward and backward. The very reason my tits had been pierced with six-inch needle nipple-bits had, after all, been to increase my pain in that area so that it would register the more as my tits hung and swung.

We, I, 'it', the girlplough-pony that was me, that was it, that was the it I was, had reached the end of the field and its left tit was being tugged with the long reins pulling on its left tit rein to tell the stupid creature to turn.

And I executed a perfect turn with the plough shares still splitting the ground into spits behind me, and began my lonely lowly painful wiggle-walk back alongside where I had already ploughed, returning to four plough blades aside distance from the point where I had started.

And despite my agonising pain I felt pride flood me for the simple pleasure of now seeing how well I had already ploughed the land with four straight and even stripes that had cost me fifteen evil painful strikes with the whip on my poor nudity.

And I renewed my efforts to be obedient and to do the job I was enslaved to, to the best of my ability, knowing the pain of the whip so increased by its wetness in the water of the rain and the wetness of my body over which the relentless pitiless rain ran in erotically compelling rivers, would rain down on my naked flesh again, should I gain again a strain to stain a stray away from the path of true righteousness I furrowed so thoroughly in constantly consistent insistent horrible pain.

And I dutifully, having begun to walk the straight and narrow like an arrow, I dutifully set my tits swinging with their plum-bobs pulling my nipples to tell me by their motion forward and backward, without a scintilla of sideways, or the threat of them clashing, that I was walking straight and dashing the soil aside with the plough blades as my cruel mistress would have me. I the 'it', with my virgin's cunt raped hard with a brutal mistress penis that filled me to fulfil me, that I nil she must be good and obey her, and obey her here and now and plough.

And my head nodded as I patently patiently plodded, the obedient little donkey, with its nose bell, and lower lip bell and ear bells and eyelid bells adangling and adingling musically as its sexy legs gilrmuscularly strove to divide the sod on which it must endlessly plod.

I turned the virgin soil with my virgin's minx pulling the sacred plough with the penis-coupling I was now wetting with my intimate innermost minx moisture as my lust made me what is called 'boisterous'; but in such a heavenly feminine creation as I could only be poetically poignantly appropriately rendered tenderly "girlsterous".

My minx was being raped as the rain poured in diagonal torrents its soft caress upon my flawless nakedness, and my wetness was becoming as inside outside and as outside inside, such that my supremely soft smooth flesh gleamed inside as outside. My intimacy was intricately infinitely inflamed by the raw rubbing and rampant scratching raw, and scraping sore, of my most sensitive minx by the spiked penis-coupling's copulating of me, as I walked the walk my female body's naturalness made me walk.

The soft rain stung the fifteen whip welts with which my eighteen-year-old's supremely feminine body was zebrared. My cunt was on fire with the heat of its ripped inners. My nipples bled from the cruel six-inch nipple-bits with which they were imbedded and from the pulling of them as I swung my tits back and fore, fore and back as I must to guide me straight.

The profoundly round half-moons of my rear performed mesmerising circular orbits as my hips were rattlesnake-forced to do by my fifteen-inch waspie, and by the very fact that I was fundamentally the greatest gift that heaven had ever bestowed on the undeserving earth: girl.

I could do nothing that was not provocatively sexy, and the fascination of watching my beautiful bottom, glistening with the constant rain, undulate and grind my minx on the huge penis she knew was forced up me, was arousing my mistress of the day with desire for the me what she knew she could not have, and therefore wanted to punish for making her feel so, even though I was innocent of any deliberation in what I was doing, insofar as my being sensationally sensually sexually provocative was concerned.

I could not help my oh-so-stunningly-smackable bottom rising and falling and waggling from side to side. I could not help the wonderful strong and yet still supremely feminine smooth shapeliness of my legs. I could not help the massiveness of my tits or the hugeness of my nipples. It was not my fault that my eyes were such a stunning deep-dark brown. I could not help that I had such pretty little ears. It was not my fault that my negress' lips were so constantly completely compellingly kissable. I could not help my high cheekbones giving my face queenly grace. It was not my fault that my coffee-brown skin was shining in the rain with all the stars in all the heavens unable to match its deliriously deliciously delightful soft smooth languorously caressable lickable longfortotouchness.

I was just girl: no more than girl.

I was girl aroused as I ploughed my second set of four furrows. They were clean-cut and straight as dies as I worked my thighs and emitted my sighs at the size of the penis up my intimate hole ravishing me without mercy as I pulled the plough in fear and pain. My mouth filled with the huge round bit slivered by slaver, which dribbled down my chin as my mouth was as moist as my quim, and my desire fire grew ever higher.

My mouth was as wet and as dribbly as my cunt. I walked straight the arrow-line of absolute and completely unquestioning obedience. My sexual pleasure was parallel with my good behaviour and the lines I was ploughing four side-by-side, with my plumb-weights swinging my titties to keep me abide with my bidding. I was letting go as my cunt was letting me know that though I had fought the rape of the penis-coupling as I had pulled the phaeton, this was a holy wholly holey different fate. My minx was ordering my mind to give in to sin.

My minx, but not my mind, knew that I was being metaphorically date raped.

As my tits were swinging fore and aft and aft and fore pulled savagely by the chained weights dangling from them, they were pendulums of passing time mounting my mountaining pleasure to its peak, timeously to the coincident event that I would soon, so soon now, give wholly holy holey wanton vent.

My mind fought against the cum in cruel bondage my minx would have me have. I could not cry "get thee behind me Satan" when, bent over 'L' as I was, my satin smooth salivating Sataness was behind me already, and already all ready to enjoy the joy of enforced animal cum. I mentally begged my minx to give me peace. I begged her not to take me to beyond critical mass. But she laughed at my timorousness and reminded herself of the timeliness, and that I was ticking to the point of no return with a cum that I could not spurn, a cum without sperm, a cum so stern in my stern that was so near to the point of no-return.

My right titty was being tugged by the long rein through my tit-rein to turn me again as I had gained more fourfold furrows in the cold earth as the rain poured on my shining body: my shining heavenly body. And I obeyed my cruel mistresses, Kim Kai and my cunt both, and turned in total submissive obedience of the rein that jiggled my titty so plainly in its plane. And I began to plough my third set of fourfold furrows in the soil with my endless toil. And I hung my sweet head to examine the ground before me, such as the limit was that I could see with my eyes so thoroughly blinkered, with eyes in a brown study: brown eyes a study of stately sexual seductiveness.

And I set my tits to swing back and forth for my first second third and fourth ploughshare to score the earth apart in a line, my titty's torture would tell was straight and keep straight. And the frustration of my guiding guardian angel Kim Kai grew to a fearsome rage, as I ploughed another page with my lovely body so near and yet so far to and from her. And she drew back her whip to welt me for her hatred of the power of my body over her, and she beat me savagely brutally "THWICK!!!!" "THWICK!!!!" "THWICK!!!!" "THWICK!!!!" and I screamed as her welting me with whip ticked the time to my crisis, a crisis commemorative of my mother's natal ripping as my head had poked from her in the agony for her of my birth, this day, this time, this year but nineteen whip stripes and nineteen-three-six-five days ago, to the very very split of the split second, as I orgasmed, screaming my birth pangs with unearthly inhuman screech, as had my lovely dam, as her dam had been breached by me as I was now breached and bled with my cunt red, as I spurted my girl-juices with my blood, as I came with a massive thunderous nuclear of explosive cums, my cunt screaming: "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!" as my nineteenth brutal lash had taken this essentially sensual sexy sassy lassie, to the lasting moment of torment that was the total orgasm: the completely animal uncontrolled and uncontrollable orgasm that echoed my birth, the anniversary of my presence, my anniversary present, my birthday present, as the clock ticked to 19.19 hours and I was become in my cum, a girl second to no girl, to the split-second exactly sweet 19-years old.

I had come to my birthday and cum on my birthday at the very split second of my birth.

My mind unconscious of what my minx had known, my mind not knowing I was now nineteen, my track of time lost with my long imprisonment, my titties swung fore and aft, fore and aft, as I obediently ploughed yet more furrows, sensationally sensuously sated, but for the moment a girl can be so stated to be, for, fully obedient slave, I would plough on under the whip and in the rain to have two more monumental cums again, before it grew too dark for my birthday to continue that way.

FOOTNOTE
The above apparently imaginary writings were found on the laptop PC of a student of Camford University in January 2000, after the girl who owned the computer had disappeared along with her tutor-counsellor. All enquiries at the university pointed toward a passionate love affair between tutor and pupil, now missing together.

As the tutor, Professor Alena Crupper, and the student, Bronwyn Emma Jones (who sometimes styled herself 'Emma Bronwyn' and usually used 'Emma' as her first name), were both of adult age when they had apparently absconded together, the British police confirmed that the matter was one they could not pursue, since there was no evidence of any crime having been committed.

Despite their protestations to the British authorities, Emma's parents who, contrary to Emma's writings on her PC were and are very much alive, could only look to 'missing persons' charities, or the hiring of a reliable private detective with, since the lesbian lovers had possibly fled abroad, international reach.

The detective hired recommended publicity to flush out any hitherto hidden corners where information might yet be forthcoming.

Apologetic to Emma's mother as she needed to be when she raised the matter, this latter-day Pinkerton's agent delicately conveyed that "the lesbian angle" would assure maximum coverage in the national 'popular press'.

Salacious interest was indeed assured in the more disreputable quarters of the British press, where the pictures of the missing professor and her exceptionally attractive student, soon appeared under the headline "Lesbian Lovers Leap Law", the angle of the story being more concerned with the hinted-at bedroom activities of two such lovely young women, than with the fact that Emma's parents were frantic to know that she was alive and well.

Publicity worked its charm though, if in a slightly happenchance way.

The trail seemed to have gone completely cold, when the private detective agency Emma's mother had engaged, received a telephone call from a helicopter pilot working in Scotland. He had been packing to move home back over the border to England. And he had been using old newspapers he had been given, to wrap a vase against prospective breakage, when his romantic eye had been caught by an exceptionally attractive mini-skirted girl, immediately below the headline: "Lesbian Lovers Leap Law".

He had noticed that the article hinted at fetishistic indulgences…….. Could he see someone face-to-face……

The detective had rushed up to see this pilot in Glasgow, and taken notes and notice of his admission that he and his fellow pilots would get bored with low flying to check over gas and oil pipelines, and that one of their favourite diversions was to overfly a fetish club where there were "goings on" with pretty girls trussed up all tight like they were horses.

The club met at the beachside private estate of a Fabrina Saddlesmith, who had often telephoned and occasionally written to his then employer, to complain of the intrusions from helicopters flying unnecessarily and possible dangerously low, undoubtedly poking their noses into what was happening in an entirely private and completely legal institution, "for", as she put it, "reasons, no doubt, of indulging a disgusting male practice".

"To get to the point", this pilot had said, as his eyes roamed the detective girl's very shapely legs, he and his "co" (his co-pilot) had seen a very attractive young black girl one day at this club, in a huge open fallow field.

She was all but naked and seemed to be being made to pull a plough.

She was decked out in some very intricate "tackle", if that was what you called all those reins and things you put on horses, and was bent over forwards pulling with all her might with the plough at the end of a chain, which his mate (his co-pilot) swore was fixed to a ring at the end of something that was in the poor girl's twat (her sex).

And they were whipping her terribly, whipping her for real.

"And she was doing a great job with the plough too……. There were furrows straight as ramrods where she'd already been….."

The detective was not beyond indulging in the odd "break-in". With the help of the pilot, she had tracked down the field the girl had been forced to pull a plough in. The fact that the whole of this field had been ploughed at some non-too-distant time, was still evident from the air. At ground level though, it had overgrown once more.

A brick-built shed in a neighbouring field looked worth investigating. An illegal 'night visit' with strong bolt cutters, resulted in the discovery of a massive and exceptionally cruelly designed dildo, with some poor girl's still lingering musky aroma on it. This was later confirmed to have Emma's very intimate DNA coating it. Emma's dried spittle was also found on what could only be a bridle and bit, clearly designed for the human mouth. DNA from this matched with that of Emma's mother confirmed this also.

Thereafter, the trail went finally forever cold………..

However, the bridle had had incorporated a headband for the wearer's forehead, and the headband had included a peculiar name, very boldly and clearly lovingly carefully tooled into it. The name was 'Midnight-Pearl'…………..

THE END