Teacher Rides a Pony

An original story by

Wolf Ferret (wolfferret@gmail.com)

This is adult fantasy including gang rape, torture and beastiallity. All of the characters or actions are imaginary. Do not read if you are under 18 or offended by violent non-consenting sex.

…

My name is Sue. I’m writing this out at the suggestion of my therapist. It’s the story of a horrible ordeal I went through some years ago when I was 24.

Back then; I was a teacher at a primary school in a small town in Idaho. Of course, all towns in Idaho are small but that one was even smaller than usual. Frankly, I was bored, it was summer vacation and I was between boy friends. I didn’t consider myself promiscuous but I haven’t been virgin since I was 17 and I changed boy friends every year. The term “serial monogamy” described me.

Getting new boy friends was never a problem. I was sociable and easy to talk to and easy on the eye. Not model beautiful but my 5’6”, well shaped figure didn’t repel anyone. My long blond hair also helped!

I decided to spend a month in California. The first few days would be fixed. Make a reservation at a hotel near Disneyland, fly to Los Angeles, take a shuttle bus from LAX to the hotel, and spend 3 or 4 days touring Disneyland. Then pick up a rental car with unlimited mileage and go wherever I felt like – foot loose and fancy free.

The first part went perfectly. I loved Disneyland. It would have been better with a friend to share the rides and the food but I still enjoyed myself. I did regret that no one was around to share my king size bed – what a waste – but I didn’t feel like picking up a stranger at the bar.

I finished with Disneyland, collected my rental car and checked out. I was dressed for travelling in jeans and a light sweatshirt. I didn’t really have any plans – my first idea was to drive north to Big Sur and then on to San Francisco and maybe the Redwood Highway. I took one of LA freeways and discovered they were just as bad as I’d heard. I was terrified – a small town girl like me couldn’t handle the speed and traffic. I took an off ramp with the intention of parking and checking my map to find a non-freeway route out of LA.

Bad choice! I found myself in a poor and run down district and thought the parking area of a supermarket would be a safe place to stop. I asked a clerk to show me my present location on my map. Now I knew where I was, so I went back to the car to work out a route. I was deep in the map when the passenger side door opened and a big, husky man slid in. He was rough looking and wearing a short sleeve T-shirt. I could see tattoos running up both of his arms. The mere sight of him frightened me. I was about to scream when he took out a large hunting knife and said, “Be quiet and start driving.”

The knife pricking my throat convinced me, I followed his directions and we drove into a run down industrial district. We finally turned into the entrance of what looked like an abandoned factory. We drove right inside – destroying my hope that someone would see the car and call the police.

He forced me out and I realized we were in a large room. There were 20 or 30 men present – mostly white but some black and Asian. I immediately noticed a king-size bed in the center of the room. It wasn’t hard to guess what was going to happen.

The men laughed and clapped. Some one said, “Is this our new toy? Good catch. Why don’t you save everyone a lot of trouble by getting naked and spreading yourself on the bed?”

“Look, just let me go and I won’t tell anybody about this. There won’t be any trouble with the police.”

“There won’t be any trouble with the police if we keep you. You’re not going to appear in court and publicly tell the world that you fucked a few hundred men in a week. Undress and you’ll save yourself a lot of pain.”

“NO! I won’t”

“I guess she’ll have to take a pony ride.”

The term didn’t mean anything to me but I soon found out that they were not talking about a cute little horse at a kiddie ride.  Two men seized me, pulled my hands behind my back, and tied my wrists together. Then they dragged me over to where a rope was hanging from a pulley and tied the rope to the bonds on my wrist. I was soon hanging in midair, screaming in agony as my wrenched shoulders were forced to support my weight.

They spread my legs and slid a sawhorse between them. Sheets of plywood were nailed to the legs of the horse to form a long triangular shape. The sharp edge was at the top. I was lowered so that my legs straddled the horse and my toes barely touched the floor. I sighed with relief as the weight came off my shoulders. But then I realized the sharp edge of the wood was pressing against my tender pussy lips through my jeans. It was uncomfortable but would obviously become painful when my legs gave out and I could no longer stand on tiptoes.

“This is called riding the wooden pony. Every thirty minutes, we will ask if you are willing to take off your clothes and spread yourself on the bed. If you say yes, we take you off the pony; if you say no, you get to ride it for another 30 minutes.”

He set a timer and put it behind me where I couldn’t see it.

“This will ring in 30 minutes and we’ll ask you if you’re willing to strip. Don’t bother volunteering before the 30 minutes are up. We won’t listen. Enjoy your ride.”

He walked away and left me sitting on the infernal contraption. I watched the men open the car and examine my purse and luggage. They found my driver’s license, plane tickets and credit cards.

My legs were giving out and I was sobbing with pain as my weight was forced down onto the boards biting into my pussy lips.

“So your name is Sue and you are 24 and from Idaho. We don’t see many sluts from Idaho so you’ll make an interesting new toy. Are you a virgin?”

“That’s none of your business. Let me go!”

He pressed a button and my arms were raised another inch. The pain in my shoulders got worse but at least it lifted me off the pony. That is, until he bent down and tied weights to my ankles. I was back on the pony and in even more pain.

“We will repeat this anytime you don’t answer questions. And we won’t release the rope or weights until you are taken off the pony. Now lets have a nice friendly conversation.”

“Are you a virgin?”

“No.”

“How old were you when you broke your cherry?”

“17.”

“Have you had sex with more than one man?”

“Yes.”

“Do the men think you give good rides?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have orgasms?”

“Yes.”

Discussing my sex life with a strange man with other men listening was humiliating but it was better than more torture from the rope and weights. The pain in my pussy lips was becoming agonizing. I found it hard to talk without screaming.

“How about your mouth? Do you suck cocks?”

“Yes.”

“Do the men enjoy it?”

“Yes.”

“Tell us how you do it.”

“I take about an inch of his cock into my mouth, lick the tip and suck until he begins to cum. Then I take my mouth away.”

“You don’t lick or kiss the shaft? You don’t swallow his cum?”

“No!”

“We have a lot to teach you. You’re going to get a good education here. How about your shit hole? Do you do anal sex?”

“Never and I don’t intend to start!”

“Ah, so you have one virginity for us to take. I’ll let you sit here for a while and think things over.”

He ran his hand over my hair and walked away.  I couldn’t decide which was worse, the sexual threats he had made or the pain in my shoulders and pussy. How long were they going to keep me on this “pony”?  Surely they’d let me go if I held out long enough.

The timer rang and the man walked over.

“How are you feeling? Would you like to get naked and stretch out on the bed?”

“Damn you bastards! I am not going to let you rape me!”

“Oh, we don’t believe in rape. If you strip and stretch out on the bed, you will be consenting to sex with any man who wants you using any hole he wants. So it won’t be rape. It will be consensual sex. Oh, by the way, ‘any man’ means just that. All the men in this club and any man we decide to give you to.”

“So how long do you think you can keep me sitting on this damn piece of wood?”

“Your return flight leaves in 3 weeks. We’ll guarantee you make the flight, with the car and all your baggage. We can keep you until then. We’ll let you have food and water but we won’t take you off the pony until you agree to strip and stretch out. Of course, you’ll have to piss and shit in your pants but that’s your problem.”

He reset the timer and walked away. He came back with a glass of water and a straw.

“You are sweating. Would you like a nice drink?”

I shook my head but he held my nose closed and put the straw in my mouth. I drank and he walked away.

I lost track of how many times that damn timer buzzed. Each time some man would come over and ask, “Ready to strip and stretch out?” and each time I would refuse and be forced to drink a glass of water.

There was a hole in the floor in front of the “pony”. The men pissed into it where I could see them. They took to walking naked in front of me so I was forced to look at their cocks. And all the time, the pain in my pussy lips kept getting worse and worse. My bladder was becoming painfully full. I had to struggle to hold my piss hole closed. The men kept forcing me to drink and the struggle became harder and harder. I felt a few drops pass and then lost control as a stream of piss came out, soaked my pants, ran down my leg and left a puddle on the floor. I blushed at the shame while the men pointed and laughed.

 

My bowels were demanding attention. I worked hard at keeping my anus closed but was having cramping bad stomach aches. I could feel the shit pressing against my sphincter muscles and fought to hold it. But the position of my legs and the pressure on my pussy lips made that difficult. I could feel the shit pushing through and then it was filling my panties and running into my pants. The men could see the growing bulge in the seat of my pants and they could certainly smell it. "Hey, she's shitting herself."

 

The shame was bad enough but the filthy piss and shit were working into the cuts in my tender pussy lips. The humiliation and pain were too much. I couldn't take any more punishment. I sobbed and screamed out “Please, please – I’ll do anything you want – just take me off this thing.”

“You’ll have to wait. The half-hour isn’t up yet.”

More agony until the timer buzzed again.

“You’re beginning to smell. Do you want to get off the pony?”

“Please – I can’t take more.”

“You agree to strip stark naked and stretch out on the bed for us to use as we wish?”

I wept, “Yes, I’ll give you all the sex you want – just let me off this thing!”

“You are consenting to having sex with any man who wants you. If we get tired of you, we will send you to work in a very low and busy brothel or as a streetwalker for some very nasty pimps. Do you understand?”

I sobbed harder but managed to say, “Yes, I understand.”

Someone took the weights off my ankles, hands around my hips lifted me up and the pony was no longer between my legs. They lowered me to the floor and released the rope. I collapsed to the floor and lay there weeping while my wrists were untied. They let me cry for a while and stretch my arms and legs and then a hand in my hair pulled me to my feet and dragged me over to a grate with a showerhead over it.

“Get naked!”

I pulled the sweatshirt over my head and dropped it on the floor. Then I unhooked my bra, conscious that 30 men were looking at my 33" C cup breasts. Having my boyfriends look at my breasts had always been fun. The boys liked their firm feel and the way my nipples hardened when fingers ran over them. But I had been the one who decided who looked at my breasts and played with them. Being forced to expose them to the eyes of 30 unknown men was awful. I had to bend over to take my shoes and socks off. I slid my jeans down and stepped out of them. They were full of my shit and left streaks along the length of my legs. Removing my panties in public would have been bad enough but doing it when they were full of shit was really humiliating. Finally, I stood stark naked in front of the men.

“She’s really filthy. We’d better rinse her off and make her take a shower.”

They turned a cold-water hose on me and rinsed off the worst of the filth. Then they let me take a hot shower. They gave me a bar of soap and I had to wash myself with my hands with everyone watching. They made me dry off using a hair dryer – a towel would have counted as clothing.

The comments began.

“Nice thick bush. It even matches her hair.”

“Yes, but she should shave her armpits and legs.”

“A bit of blood on her pussy lips. The pony must have cut her up a bit.”

“That’s her problem.  We can still fuck her and we can always gag her if she’s too noisy.”

“Well, don’t just stand there. Go lie on the bed and spread yourself.”

I walked over to the bed, lay on my back with my arms and legs spread and stared rigidly at the ceiling. I didn’t want to think about what was going to happen but my mind wandered back to a “bull session” in a college dorm room. Five of us girls had been talking about rape, none of us were virgin but none would admit to having been raped.

One girl said she had been told, “If rape is inevitable, just lie there limply without fighting or responding.” She called it the “Dead Fish” defence. It wouldn’t stop the rape but increased the chance of getting out without being killed or badly injured.

Another girl said that sounded like men holding the victim’s arms and legs during a gang rape so it certainly wouldn’t discourage a rapist.

Someone else said that implied at least 3 men and we started arguing whether 2 men could be called a gang. And that led to a discussion of how it would feel to be held and know there was a line of men waiting their turn. Would your pussy get sore from the friction or would all the semen act as a lube? And would you be able to breathe properly if the next man in line quickly replaced the man on top of you?

None of the girls knew but none were willing to volunteer for the experiment. Now it looked like I’d fine out the hard way. I wasn’t going to give them any satisfaction. I’d try the “dead fish” defence.

My first rapist was the man who had captured me. Being the first to fuck me was his reward. In other circumstances he would have been an impressive hunk of male. He was 6’2”, about 180lb, and well muscled. I didn’t care for the tattoos on his arms and chest and certainly didn’t care for his leer. He lay down next to me and ran his hands over my breast and nipples for a few seconds – so much for foreplay – but I hadn’t expected more from a rapist.

Then he rolled on top of me and used one hand to guide his cock into my pussy. I bit my lip as I felt it push into me and begin to heat up my tunnel. Then the thrusts began. Deep into me, almost out, deep in again. I felt the friction heating the walls of my vagina and my hips wanted to move. I wouldn’t let them. My goal was absolute passivity.

Finally, he grunted, spat in my face, saying “Useless Slut”, and rolled off me. Some one handed him a long plastic rod, which he touched to my breast.

I screamed “YAEEE” and my body arched and convulsed in response to the electric shock.

“That was a cattle prod. We won’t use it again but, if we get bored with you, we will send you to a brothel. They will use it every time a customer complains.”

Oh God! That was the end of the “dead fish” defence. I’d better try responding.

I expected the second rape to begin right away. But there was a break while the men had a smoke and then another naked man climbed on the bed. This one spent some time exploring my body before he entered me slowly and gently like a considerate lover. I wrapped my arms and legs around him and let my hips move. He finished and rolled off me.

The men had the place set up like a clubhouse with table, chairs, TV, microwave and fridge. They set around playing cards or watching TV or just gossiping. Occasionally one would glance over at the bed. If I was free, he’s strip, come over and mount me.

A few of them were gentle but many more were rough. They’d pinch and twist my nipples, squeeze my breasts or bite when they sucked on my nipples. But most of the men didn’t bother playing with me, they just mounted my and hauled their ashes. Now I really understood the meaning of “sex object”. I was just a warm body with a hole between my legs.

I had plenty of time to think and remembered reading about the Red Army in Berlin. They’d take a German woman off the streets and assign her to 10 soldiers. She was called a “soldier’s mattress.” That was what I’d become – a mattress for a group of men.

But even under those conditions, I surprised myself. The constant pressure and friction in my vagina triggered an orgasm. The men laughed and cheered.

“See, we knew you could do it!”

My mind hated what was going on but my body had a will of its own. I had four or five orgasms before the men were done with me. I don’t know how long it went on or how many men fucked me. Eventually they had to go home or go to work. But they put a dog collar around my neck; the kind made of chain and fastened with a padlock, and chained me to a ring in the wall. They gave me a plastic mat; the type used on backyard lounges, a plastic bucket for a toilet, and left me bottled water, a loaf of bread, some tomatoes and a few bananas.

I lay face down and cried myself to sleep. When I woke up, there was nothing to do except lie staring blankly at the ceiling and wonder what would happen next.

The first few men into the club released me and made me empty the bucket and take a shower. Then I had to put a clean sheet on the bed and sit on it watching a DVD of couples having sex in various positions. They told me to pay special attention to the blowjobs.

The actual sex didn’t start until most of the men had arrived. I was ordered to kneel and start using my mouth. They didn’t like my technique and slapped my face a couple of times to emphasize that.

I learned to hold a cock in my fingers while I licked and kissed the shaft before putting it in my mouth and running my lips up and down its length. Then I learned to lick and kiss balls before starting on the cock. The final lesson in giving a good blowjob had me lying face down at a man’s feet. I had to kiss his bare feet and kiss and lick my way up his leg to his crotch and then do his balls and cock.

Once I’d learned how to do a blowjob to their satisfaction, they began deep throating me. That was hard, I tended to gag as the cock was shoved down my throat and had to learn to breathe. But my pleas for mercy were met by a threat to have me ride the pony, naked, for an hour. Given that choice, I learned how to deep throat!

The men really enjoyed themselves. They liked having their feet licked and kissed and joked about my high protein diet.

After an endless time on my knees, they chained me to the wall again, and left. I was so exhausted that I didn’t even cry, I just went to sleep.

Once, I woke up, I lay shivering in fear. They’d spent a day using my pussy and another day using my mouth. It wasn’t hard to guess what was coming.

I suppose you could say they were kind at the beginning. They bent me over a table and rubbed KY Jelly into my ass before a man stuck his cock in. But that was the only kindness. They thrust deep and vigorously and I could feel their sperm in my bowels.

They experimented with positions. They fucked me bent over the table, standing with head against the wall – that was popular because the man fucking my ass could hold my breasts - or on my hands and knees with my ass in the air. The most popular position had me kneeling with my head on the floor and ass raised. The men would spread my hair on the floor and stand on it. They could fuck my ass or my pussy and spank my ass when they felt like it. Or a man would order me to lick his feet and give him a blowjob or deep throat.

It was a hellish day, almost all of them took my ass; the pussy fucks or blowjobs were just for variety. The time when I was left alone to sleep was almost worse. My ass was so sore that getting to sleep was close to impossible. And I was almost insane with worry, what were they going to do next? They’d used all my holes so what was left?

I’d lost track of time, I didn’t even know if it was day or night. Call it day for convenience.

The day after they’d opened up my ass turned out to be free form time. They had a square of carpet about 18 inches on a side placed in the middle of their gossip area. I stood on it with my hands behind my back and my legs spread. A man would say, “Hey slut, come over here and screw me” and I’d walk over and do what ever he wanted – pussy or ass or mouth. Then I’d walk back to the square with cum dripping out of my pussy or ass and wait for the next call. They never used my name, I was always slut or bitch and I never learned any of their names. They were just nameless faces and cocks to me.

Later that day, they changed the procedure. A man would call, “Hey Bitch, over here” and I’d get down on my hands and knees, crawl to him, kiss his feet and say, “Yes Master, how can I serve you?”

The days passed in a blur of endless sex. They knew I was a teacher and they spent some time doing what they called educating the teacher. They had a number of DVDs of men and women having sex in various positions. Each position had a name. I had to learn them by heart so a man could call for a position, I’d assume it and he’d use me.

They also had a DVD of naked women doing belly dances or other erotic dances. I learned to dance. Doing a naked erotic dance in front of a group of men, knowing that you’re arousing them and will be raped afterwards is really humiliating. It might be fun with a boyfriend or husband but definitely not with a gang of rapists.

They liked having me lie on my back spread eagled on the floor while a man ran his bare feet over my body. They thought it was funny to make me piss or shit into a bucket in front of them. And some of them enjoyed knocking me to the floor with a slap on the face, or doubling me over with a fist in my belly or a knee in my crotch.

The sex and torment went on and on until one day a woman came in. I looked at her with hope – would she help me? But she gave the men a wad of money, my hands were tied behind me and I was gagged and put in a windowless van. I heard a man say, “Remember, she has to be back here in 15 days” and then the van left.

The ride ended at a different building.  There was a man waiting for me. I never heard their names but thought of them as Madam and Bouncer. They took pictures of me and pasted them into a book.  I was whore number 4 in the book. Then they took me upstairs to room number 4 and pasted my picture on the door. The room had no window and the only furniture was a double bed.

The two of them put a chain collar around my neck and chained that to the head of the bed. The chain was long enough to allow me to lie on my stomach or back, stand up or kneel on the floor. My hands and feet were free but I couldn’t reach the door.

Madam said, “This is your first time as a whore in a brothel. We have a little initiation ceremony for you.”

The Bouncer forced ring like a plastic donut into my mouth. My teeth fitted into a groove and the ring was held in place by a strap around my head.

“This is called a ring gag. I’m sure you can guess what its for.”

Then they inserted earplugs. The plugs were very effective. I couldn’t hear a thing.

I lay helpless as they forced a plastic hood over my head. It covered my eyes and ears but left my nose and mouth free. The hood had a strap that buckled around my chin and was locked. I was now chained to the bed and was blind, deaf, and dumb.

Nothing happened for a while and then I felt the bed move as a man climbed on. I felt the pressure and heat as he lay on top of me and his cock entered my pussy. By now I was used to the thrusting and just waited for him to roll off. He did and I received a nasty shock from a cattle prod. Passive resistance wouldn’t work here any more than it did at the club.

More men used me. The only warning was the sag of the bed when a man climbed onto it. And I never knew whether the current rapist was going to use my pussy or ass or mouth.

I was lying on my side with a cock in my pussy when the bed sagged and a cock was pressed against my ass. Oh no! They couldn’t be doing two at a time. Even the monsters at the club hadn’t done that. But the cock went deep into my ass and both cocks began to pound me in rhythm. I wanted to scream and cry as I lay there helplessly. But the gag prevented screaming and I’d used up my tears long ago.

I learned the hard way that there were three ways for two cocks to rape me – pussy and ass, ass and mouth, mouth and ass. But I wasn’t prepared for a triple. I was lying on my side with cocks pounding my ass and pussy when my head was turned and a cock entered my mouth! It was horrible – how could men do such a thing to a helpless woman?

I was exhausted and sore when the hood, gag and earplugs were removed. The Madam was grinning at me.

“A good start to your career as a whore. 53 man in 24 hours!”

The Bouncer unchained me and took me to a toilet. I needed it! Then he brought me back to Room 4, chained me again, put some food and water on the floor and left the room. I ate and fell asleep.

The Bouncer woke me as he unchained me. Back to the toilet, a meal sitting at a table in another windowless room, a hot shower and back to Room 4. This time he made me put fresh sheets on the bed before he chained me.

He left, the door opened, and the first of the day’s rapists entered.

That set the pattern of my stay. I lost track of days and time, all I could do between rapes was stare at the door and think: “Will it be one or two or three? And will it be a simple rape or will it also be a beating or the cattle prod?”

The only indication of time was the Madam speaking at the end of a shift: “12 hours and 23 men” or “15 hours and 32 men” or “18 hours and 65 men”. The last was after a really horrible shift with repeated doubles and triples. I was exhausted and bleeding from my pussy and ass.

One day the Bouncer led me down stairs after my shower. He took me to a room with a sort of stage in the middle. An audience of men sat around the stage. I was forced to kneel on the stage and my wrists and ankles were tied to rings in it. A rope hung from the ceiling. The Bouncer wrapped a strap around my belly and fastened it to the rope. The Bouncer wiped my pussy with a wet and smelly rag. Then the Madam came in leading a large dog. My mind went numb with horror and shock– could they really do that to me?

I felt the dog sniffing my pussy, and then his paws and weight were on my back and his cock in my pussy. The strap kept me from collapsing onto the floor. The audience laughed and hooted and applauded as the dog began thrusting. The performance seemed to last forever. When the dog was finally done, the Madam brought in another dog. This one was trained to lie on its back under my head. The Madam massaged its cock until the dog had an erection. “Suck it!” I shook my head NO! The cattle prod convinced me to suck. I had my head down and was sucking the cock when I felt another dog mount me and start on my pussy. Oh my God, they were making me double fuck dogs!

Both dogs came and I was untied. But I was promptly led to a table where I was placed on my back with my arms tied to two of the table legs. The size of the table had been chosen so that my hips were at the edge. My legs were spread and tied to the remaining table legs. My pussy was completely exposed. The Madam brought in yet another dog – this one mounted me missionary style with its paws on my breasts.

They left me tied to the table after the dog had finished its fuck. Then the audience was allowed to play with me until I fainted. I woke up Room 4. I thought I’d run out of tears but that horrible day had me crying myself to sleep again.

The Bouncer took me to my hot shower and dinner and then led me down stairs. I was in a panic – not the dogs again! But he shoved me in the van and the ride ended at the club. The man who had captured me was waiting. He pointed to my suitcases and said, “Get dressed. You have a plane to catch.”

He drove my rental car to the airport, turned it in, and escorted me to the departure gate just as if he had been a friend. I was free!

But the flight home was very hard. I wanted to scream every time a man looked at me. A girl friend met me at the airport. She could tell something was wrong but didn’t ask questions until I started screaming at the sight of a dog. A short explanation convinced her to take me direct to a Rape Crisis Center.

They were very good. They arranged a medical examination, a woman to stay in my spare room for a few weeks, a six-month sick leave from work and a psych therapist. The medical exam had some good news. I was NOT HIV positive.

But I did have syphilis, gonorrhoea and was pregnant. I also had tears in the walls of my rectum and vagina that I was told would heal without special treatment. I immediately asked for an abortion but had to wait a month for the STDs to clear up and the tears to heal.

That was some years ago. My therapist says I’ve made good progress. I’m back at work, I can talk to men, and I no longer become hysterical when I see a dog. But I don’t date, I don’t have sex and I never travel.

The End