128 assesses. The woman wears the attire of an equestrienne, white satin blouse, beige jodhpurs and black leather riding boots. The girl is of age, perhaps more woman than girl. Hands to her head, she obediently responds to tugs on the controlling leash, alacritously heeling in perfect cadence with the casually strolling woman. She is well trained. In moving about, 128 notes the cruel brand. Just as with 45, a large letter ‘N’ adorns her right buttock, the coloring a distinctive deep red.
“Awaiting branding. And such a motley group. This one is no doubt destined for the stables.”
The comment comes as the woman stands eye to eye with 127. She snickers, her look of Scadenfreude remaining as her right arm extends to offer the sjambok. Her leashed companion knows to take the implement in her mouth.
The free right hand reaches forth. 127 squirms in her bonds.... resistance... fear? It matters not, the woman’s touch is not to be avoided.
“You’re well shaped for physical exertion, 127. We can offer that here in abundance. Too tall for a gymnast. Basketball? You may speak.”
“Track, Ma’am. 200 meters. I.... er... 127 set a conference record.”
The words come as the woman’s fingers brazenly pinch a perky left nipple, roll about then squeeze to bring a grimace of pain.
“Well, there’s the stables for 127. And 127 will be run more than 200 meters here. The pony cart... girls like 127 pull for miles. Come to enjoy laboring for the amusement of others. Also savor a bit of the sjambok. Girls like you come to crave it, relish it. You won’t be feeling much else.”
The fingers release, the hand gliding down to apprize rippled abdominal muscles, then moving to the well exposed mons. Fingers splay open the feminine portal, sliding within. 127 shudders... in distress?
The woman smiles, 127’s quim affirming what she knows.
“You’re excited. Aroused to be presented to me stripped naked, branded and spread?”
The hand retreats, the woman holding up her fingers, wet and glistening in the hot sun.
“No need to answer. Your cunt speaks for you. 127 is going to have a long grueling stay here at Nusquam. I may just work you a little myself. But I prefer working the male. I have a stallion. Well trained yet not too docile. Still there lacks the challenge of breaking in a new steed.”
The woman retrieves the sjambok, steps back and delivers a crisp and exacting stroke to the left buttock. 127 screams in agony, the woman laughing with the strident reaction.
“Ha, ha... it’s unfortunate I need to restrain myself. Can’t have that right cheek welted. The branding iron awaits.”
The woman returns the sjambok to an obedient mouth and steps to confront 128.
“Well, well, a dumpling. Nice and soft. Lots of flesh. My imagination hears the thwacks of a cane on buttocks eager to be heated. Is that true 128? You look like the type of girl that would bend in eagerness. And such tits. More bovine than human.”
Free hand and leash hand extend to palpate left nipple and right. The touch is tender and knowing. The pinks nubs instantly crinkle seemingly inviting more manipulation. With the many weeks of denial... Nurse Kelly long ago refraining from bringing 128 to complete orgasm... the many chaste days and nights enshrouded in plastic... 128 sighs with the delightful touch. She wants more, disappointed when the fingers withdraw.
“Yes, 128 would express marvelously. We’d have you letting down copiously, the goat milking machines are amazingly effective. Have you begging to be milked... by hand... slow, gentle. There are subjugants here at Nusquam who can have a girl performing for us... lactate dribbling at the sound of their voice,” the words offered in a soothing and sultry tone.
The free hand lowers finding the outer labia of the hairless portal, once again splaying with deft, fingers entering a vagina sopping with feminine essence.
“You’re even wetter than 127. So eager to serve. So eager to perform for me. So nicely curved, 128. You must have been attractive before being shaved and tattooed. And you will brand well... have you looking like the cow you’re so eager to emulate,” the leash hand reaching behind to smooth over the soft well rounded right buttock.
“54, after she’s branded and trained I want you to show 128 around. Show her how you groom and ready Richard for his daily run. She’ll fluff him nicely, I’m sure. Richard’s becoming too accustomed to you. And you’re nearing another step in status. The pump house beckons.”
The girl nods, her face sullen in reaction to the commands.
“Thank you, Ma’am,” 128 finding her voice. “May I pee?”
There comes a grin, turning wicked.
“Yes. But you’ll not soil the ground here. We have certain ...ah... rituals. 54,” snapping her fingers and pointing.
The leash hand offers slack. A glum 54 steps to 128’s front, lowering to her knees, her mouth proximate to the moist portal.
“Go ahead. You’ll return the favor for 54 when you’re better trained.”
128 is horrified, the woman ready to accept her excretions, the lips are pressed to her labia, positioning perfectly to take her flow. Though 128 finds the deed repulsive, she can no longer hold back as the girl’s tongue extends... her lips sucking to encourage.
“You’ll note that a drop won’t escape. We tend to be very exacting here at Nusquam,” the words coming as 128 finds she must release. And indeed the flow is neither to be seen nor heard... only the gulps of 54’s throat.