She Lived the Pony Girl Fantasy--For Real! The line of women circled the vast courtyard four times. Occasionally, one of the women would fall, only to be pounced upon by a whip wielding, t-shirted man. They would struggle to their feet, as quickly as they could, and rejoin the streaming line of naked, frightened women. When they were done, after the fourth pass, they stood there panting and gasping for breath. After a few moments, the whistle blew again and they hustled back into the building. Maddy wondered how much more she could take! By the author of the bestselling Carmella Enslaved saga!
EXTRACT
CHAPTER ONE
It was a typical Saturday afternoon at Grafton's Tavern. There were
three sullen patrons at the semi-circular bar. The Tennessee game was
on the television, and the home team was leading Miami by ten points
in the third quarter. Four of the Baker Hill boys were playing pool,
drinking Coors and doing the occasional shot of Wild Turkey. Their
mildly profane shouts were the only noise in the place audible over
the nonstop chatter of the game announcers.
Madeline stood behind the bar, the cheeks of her young, firm ass
resting on the large, silver colored beer cooler. She was a tall, well
built girl, about five feet eleven inches. She wore a peasant style
skirt with bright calico swirls that descended to well below her
knees. Her top was a bright red Moorestown Community College t-shirt,
pulled taut across her chest, accenting her more than ample breasts.
Her hair was long and brown, reaching to her waist. While working, she
kept it bound tightly in a braid, a bright pink ribbon serving as a
tie on the end. Madeline wore her low top cross trainers; she was
conscious of her towering height and shunned anything that would add
more than a quarter inch to her frame. The shoes were kind to her feet
too. Along with her height came a comparable weight, although she
dieted constantly. Broad shoulders and big bones separated her from
the lithe, tall fashion model type, but she was pretty, had a
distinctly feminine shape and was lively and fun to be around. Her
face and arms were still brown from the her spring break foray to
Florida and her arms were taut and well toned.
Two of the men at the bar were regulars. Danny ran the garage across
the street, and on Saturdays he closed up at noon, or three, depending
on whether Tennessee was playing an early or late afternoon game. He
was in his late fifties, divorced, and had little visually to offer a
young college girl like Madeline. His belly protruded over his blue
work pants. His grease stained work shirt, of the same dark
utilitarian color, spread open at the top to reveal a densely hairy,
salt and pepper chest to match his scraggly beard. Old Grand Dad and
Schlitz was what he drank. When the game was over, he would buy two
sixes and head home.
Manny sat a few seats down from Danny. He was in his thirties, a
lean, wiry fellow. He liked to think of himself as a lady's man and
wore sharply creased beige pants and a bright yellow Izod shirt. His
hair was slicked back in a mini pompadour and he liked to sport a day
or two growth on his face, like one of those detectives on Miami Vice.
He had money on Tennessee, but he had to give away seven and a half
points. His eyes were glued to the screen and cursed Tennessee
whenever the Hurricanes advanced the ball.
The third fellow was someone who Maddy, everybody called her Maddy,
had never seen before. He was nursing a Bud draft and seemed
preoccupied with himself. The man was in his mid fifties, maybe older.
He wore a dark blue baseball cap with a Caterpillar bulldozer logo on
the front, a short, dark green work jacket zipped up over a white tee
shirt, blue jeans and work shoes. His hair was short and gray, almost
a buzz cut. Maddy wasn't sure how tall he was because he sat kind of
hunched over, as if he was trying not to be noticed. Neither Manny nor
Danny seemed to have noticed him, and the Baker Hill boys were too
involved in their afternoon away from their wives and girlfriends to
have any interest.
Miami had just scored on a half back option pass that caught the
Tennessee defenders flat footed. Manny cursed and pounded his fist on
the bar. A quarter popped into the air then rolled off, over the sink
and down onto the floor by Maddy's feet. `Jesus fuckin Christ on a
cross!` Manny yelled. `Those stupid fucking hillbilly assholes!` Manny
didn't bet much, maybe a twenty or a fifty on a game, but he was a
cheap son-of-a-bitch and hated losing any money. He looked up at Maddy
who had jumped at the sudden noise.
`Sorry, Maddy,` he said. `I didn't mean to startle you.`
`That's fine, Manny,` she replied in her soft, deep toned voice. `But
don't break the bar, okay?`
`Sure, honey, sure,` Manny replied. `Ah,` he said to her somewhat
meekly, `could you get my quarter?`
`A quarter saved is a quarter earned, eh, Manny,` she joked.
`Yeah, I guess you've got that right.` He watched Maddy bend to
retrieve his quarter. `I know I'm tight with a buck, Maddy, but I
don't mind spending it on the ladies. Now you, for instance, I'd spend
that quarter on you in a New York minute, and a couple more too.`
`Well, I'll just run home and get my pretty dress on, Manny. Where we
going, the Piggly Wiggly or the Stop and Shop?`
`Honey, we can go anywhere you want as long as we end up at my
place.` Manny quipped back.
Maddy knew Manny was harmless. He talked a big game, but she had
heard it from Sally James that he was a little light where it counted.
Anyway, she could take a little ribald ribbing. It was good for tips
and made her feel just a little more attractive.
She crouched to her knees to find Manny's precious quarter. As she
did so, her skirt pulled tight around her legs and buttocks. Her
finely tapered thighs were outlined by the cloth. The man in the
bulldozer hat took especial notice.
She stood quickly and slapped Manny's quarter on the bar. `Here's
your fuckin' twenty-five cents, Manny. Don't spend it all in one
place,` she told him. Manny was already glued back to the TV screen.
Tennessee had fumbled at their own thirty-five yard line.
`God fuckin' damn it!` Manny yelled. `Of all the goddamn fuckin'
stupid things to do! Jesus!`
Maddy returned to her perch on the beer cooler and looked around. The
man in the bulldozer cap was gone. He left a thirty-five cent tip.
The man in the bulldozer cap was Herman Rusch. As he drove his
battered, green Ford pickup from the tavern parking lot, he made a
little note in small, yellow memo pad: `Maddy, twenty-one or
twenty-two, tall, athletic. Pretty face, long, muscled legs, brown
waist length hair. Grafton's Tavern, Marlsburg, Saturday, 2:30 p.m.`
He always took notes, although he destroyed them later. It took a
careful, observant man to ply his trade. Patience too. He pulled the
truck out on to Cooperstown Road and headed south.
He had been looking for a girl like Maddy for a while. Three or four
girls he had found had come close, but this one was just about right.
He would talk it over with Louise, his wife, and work out a plan. They
would need to know more about the girl: where she lived, what her
habits were. Was she living at home? With a boyfriend?
There had been four pick up trucks and a small Ford Escort in the
parking lot. Inside the Ford was a stuffed animal and a woman's
sweater. There was a decal from Moorestown Community College on the
rear window. The man felt it a safe assumption this was Maddy's car.
He took the license plate number.
The other tall girls he had scoped out were more like string beans.
He wasn't looking for the willowy type. The girl he was looking for
had to be strong and pretty--and tall. Maddy was all three. Her torso
was long and sleek, but her hips were wide. Her arms were far from
delicate, and her thighs and ass were ample. She would do fine.
Five hours later, Herman pulled off Route 265 in Canterville,
Georgia. It was dark and he was tired. It was a lot of driving, but
you couldn't shit where you ate. He had made many a long distance
drive in his pursuit of female flesh, once even all the way to
Pennsylvania, but he liked to keep his business limited to small town,
Southern girls. In his inimitable redneck way, he loved to think of
those snotty bitches getting fucked in the ass by some South American
mongrel drug dealer or some greasy little Arab. It was all fantasy
though, because he never met the ultimate customer. He dealt with
middlemen, and for two weeks he had been looking to fill a particular
order. Maddy fit the bill to a tee.
As he pulled up his long, gravel strewn driveway, Herman thought
about Louise. If he didn't need that fat old witch to help snatch the
girls and take care of them until they could be sold, he'd have put
her in a hole a long time ago. When they were younger, she was a pip.
She loved to fuck and raise hell, but now she cussed him and snarled
anytime he put his hand on her. Was it any wonder he had his way with
the girls from time to time?
Herman pulled up to the porch of his ramshackle house. It was an old
wooden frame structure, with rotted out gutters and weeds sticking up
all about the foundation. He and Louise had made plenty of money over
the years, but they had to hold on to this decrepit shithole of a
house if they wanted to stay in business. There was an old red barn in
the back. They needed the barn. The location was hidden, at least two
miles from the main road. Where could they ever find another place
like this?
Louise heard Herman pull up and shot back the inch and a half of
Southern Comfort she was drinking out of a jelly jar. `A little bit
more money,` she thought, `and I'll fix that asshole's wagon.` Louise
harbored her own resentments against Herman. She knew he liked to fool
with the merchandise. That didn't bother her. It was more the way he
looked at her with disdain. Sure, she had gotten old, what the fuck
did he expect! But her pussy still worked at fifty-four years of age
and she had the old urges from time to time. Now, when Herman was out
prowling, she often forced oral delights from the girls locked in the
cellar beneath the barn. In fact, just about an hour ago she'd had a
little session with that cunt, Sharon. She had a good, long tongue and
preferred using it to the blast of a cattle prod.
Herman trudged up the front porch and entered the living room. Louise
was right where he knew she would be, sitting in the easy chair in
front of the TV. The jelly glass didn't fool him. He knew where she
kept the hootch, and besides he could smell it on her breath. `Goddam
drunkin' sow!` he thought.
`So wadja get Herman?` Louise asked him. `Any luck?`
`Yeah,` Herman replied, removing his cap and throwing it onto the
brown, threadbare couch. `I think I've got a winner.` He read off the
description to Louise. She nodded.
`Seems like the one we need all right. When can you get the plate
run?`
`Tomorrow. I'll call my contact and get her address in the morning.
You should take the car up in the afternoon, see what you can find
out. I'd like to get a picture, send it in. There's not much of a
market for these big boned girls and I want to make sure she fits the
bill before we spend too much time on her. Meanwhile we got that girl
in Daleysville we could pick up, or the one in Jackson.` Herman
sighed, his exhaustion slowly beginning to overwhelm him.
`There's some meatloaf in the fridge and some potatoes on the stove,`
Louise proffered. `You want I should heat em up?`
`Nah,` Herman replied. `I'm going to go check on the cunt down in the
hole then get to bed. I'm pretty tuckered.`
Louise knew what `checking on` the cunt in the hole meant. Herman
would get a blow job then go to bed. Well, fine by her.
`As you please,` she replied.
Herman strode through the kitchen and out the back door. The barn was
located behind the house, about twenty yards back. It was an old,
weather beaten structure, with faded red boards and peeling roof
shingles. He knew he should get up there and fix them before the heavy
spring rains set in, but he had been thinking lately, maybe they had
enough dough to get out of here. A couple more scores and they would
have over two million dollars. He would put a bullet in Louise's
brainpan, dump her in the hole and take off for South America. Two
million would go a long way there, and there was plenty of cheap
pussy.
The half moon that was dodging through the clouds lit the pathway to
the barn so that Herman was able to traverse the short distance
without the use of a flashlight. He stepped into the barn and headed
toward the back. A small pile of wooden pallets lay next to the rear
wall. Herman picked them up one by one and moved them aside. A small
trap door appeared. The door had a lock on it and Herman keyed the
lock and opened the steel bolt that held the door closed. He pulled
the door up and advanced down a wooden ladder built into the wall.
When he reached the bottom, he turned.
This was 'the hole'. It was a veritable dungeon. It was lit by a
single forty-five watt bulb in the ceiling in the center of the room.
Along the right wall was a series of five cages. They stood about
three feet high and four feet wide. Each cage had a wooden floor
covered by a thin mat. In the first cage knelt a small, naked girl.
Her silky blond hair was pulled back in a pony tail. She had sparkling
blue eyes and pale skin. She was alert to the coming of Herman, her
jailor. Her hands were connected by a short chain that led through a
ring dangling from a steel collar around her neck. The chain held her
hands in a prayer-like position, there being just enough slack for the
girl to be able to cover one of her plump, firm breasts, but not the
other, as the other hand would be drawn up close to her neck.
The girl wore no gag, it being unnecessary in this subterranean
prison. The ceiling was insulated with sound deadening materials and
the door to the below ground chamber was about six inches thick. You
could set off a hand grenade in there and the only thing heard
upstairs would be a dull thump, and that only if you were standing
directly above it at the time.
