Test Drive ………..Part Two …..

She walked up to me. “Pathetic,” she spat. “How do you get so unfit? It’s disgusting,” she snarled in contempt. Then she turned to my Mistress. “I don’t think this will be very successful, but we might as well try a test drive, now that he’s here.”
The test drive. It was starting to make sense.
Leaving me on the yard, both women entered the barn and came out pulling a two-wheeled cart or buggy. There was a comfortable looking padded seat between the wheels surrounded by wooden panels to lean against and a foot rest. Two long bars pointed forward, presumably to attach to a horse. Mistress Serena was also carrying some sort of thick belt. She walked up to me, putting the belt low around my waist and buckled it tightly. There were various short lengths of chain hanging from the belt, and when she pushed me roughly over to the cart, I realised that they were to attach to the bars so that I could pull it. After I was securely attached, she clipped the reins to the bit between my teeth, leading them behind me.
Pulling on each side of my mouth in turn, she said, “Turn left. Turn right,” and yanking them both, she added, “Stop.” Then she thrashed both reins together, stinging my back, “And this means go.” She waited a moment. “Clear?” I nodded, unable to see her around my blinkers.
So this was to be the test drive. The utter humiliation of the situation washed over me. I really was just an animal to them, and they were going to make me behave like one.
“Do you want to try him first?” she said to Mistress Paris. She agreed and I felt the cart move as she got into the driving seat.” Just use the whip to drive him,” Mistress Serena suggested. “Fry his ass if he doesn’t lift his knees. See how fast you can make a circuit of the paddock. Then I’ll see if I can do it faster.” Both of them laughed. So this was to be a race as well.
Mistress Serena stepped away from the cart to watch. Mistress Paris waited a moment and then shouted at the top of her voice, “MOVE IT!”, giving me several lashes across the back with the buggy whip. The pain and the order made me start to pull the cart as fast as I could, but she was not satisfied. “FASTER!” she yelled, lashing me again and again with the whip. After a while I managed to get the cart up to a reasonable speed, I thought, but still she occasionally whipped me, shouting. Half way round she zapped my ass with the anal plug and I screamed in pain, “KNEES HIGHER!”. I heard her laughing as I desperately tried to keep pulling the cart at speed. Whenever I slowed, the whip would inevitably follow, along with her angry voice. I was terrified, both of the whip and the anal punishment, and when we finally came back to where Mistress Serena was waiting, I was very relieved.
But of course the relief was short lived. “Three minutes and ten seconds,” Mistress Serena said, laughing and handing a stopwatch to Mistress Paris. “Now let me show you how it’s done.” She stood in front of me and forced me to look directly at her as she growled. “And if he is slower this time, I will cut off his fucking balls.” I was even more terrified.
She got into the cart, and as before started me with a burst of whip strokes and shouting. I pulled as hard as I could, but my legs were already tired from the round with Mistress Paris. There was a hail of whip strokes whenever I slowed even slightly, and every few seconds she blasted my ass with electric agony. Unlike Mistress Paris, she was not laughing, seeming to whip me with more and more anger as my performance slacked and exhaustion overcame me. Eventually, despite the unbearable agony of the whipping, my legs could not pull any more, and just a few yards short of the finish line, I staggered to a walking pace and then collapsed. Without my arms free, I sank to my knees then fell forward onto my face in the cool grass.
Mistress Serena jumped out of her seat and started kicking my ass, shouting, “YOU FUCKING LAZY PIECE OF SHIT!” over and over. Again and again she kicked me, but I could not move or get up from exhaustion. All I could do was scream and moan in pain.
Eventually Mistress Paris came over and joined in the verbal abuse and I felt a wave of humiliation as I always do when I let her down.
Unchaining me from the cart, Mistress Serena kicked me again, ordering, “Get back to the fucking barn!”. I tried to crawl, but my legs were jelly and I had no arms. In the end both women picked me up by the shoulders and dragged me to the barn, dropping me by one of the posts. “STAND UP!” Mistress Serena kicked and shouted until I managed to stagger to my feet, unsteadily. She pushed me face-first against the post and then fixed the metal ring on the front of the bit between my teeth to a sturdy ring nailed to the post. I was effectively hanging on the post by my mouth, head pulled up, on tiptoe. The strap behind my head took most of the weight, but I could not turn my head.
The women were quiet. I could hear them moving, and talking quietly, but I could not see anything because of the blinkers. All I could see was the wooden post. I could feel my body shaking, both from exhaustion and fear of what they were about to do to me.
Eventually, I sensed someone standing by my side.
“You are very poorly trained,” Mistress Serena said, calmly, close to my ear. I was relieved that she seemed not to be as angry. “But luckily I know a great deal about training animals.” I felt a gloved finger tracing the line of the whip marks on my back. “These are light marks. They will heal quickly.” She seemed reassuring, but I sensed menace in her voice. There was a long pause, then she said, “Do you know how we train animals?” I could not answer, so I tried to shake my head. “Think,” she said. “Whips, spurs, cattle-prods, crops, branding irons. What do they have in common?” All I could do was listen. “Pain”, she said eventually, “Pain and fear. That is how we train animals.” Again, there was a long pause, then she added. “And you are clearly in need of training.” She continued to trace the lines of my whip marks gently. “Are you afraid?” she asked softly. I was too terrified to to answer. “Do you remember that bullwhip you saw earlier?” My heart skipped a beat and I nodded. I sensed her move away from me slightly, then there was an almighty CRACK in the air behind me. “Are you afraid now?” she asked with the same silken voice. I was shitting myself, and nodded frantically, whimpering, hoping that a demonstration of utter fear and submission would placate her. “Good,” she said. “So now we just need to add a little pain.” I tried to shake my head, anything to avoid being lashed with that monster, but I sensed her take up position behind me.
She waited, presumably watching me tremble, listening to my whining. But then the inevitable whiplash smashed into my back. The pain was indescribable. I screamed out past the bit, shaking physically against the post. Then there was another lash. And another. Blow after blow, rhythmic, sadistic, methodically covering my back with stripes of white hot agony. I was screaming and struggling, driven mad with the pain.
Then she stopped, waiting for me to recover. She came to speak softly into my ear again. “Fear and pain,” she said. “You can see how effective it is?” I grunted, anxious to agree with absolutely anything she said. She laughed darkly, “Good.” Then she reached round and stroked her hand down my belly, cradling the metal cage around my cock. “A pity,” she said. “Your little prick is quite safe in there. But a severe cock whipping is particularly effective for training. I’m quite disappointed.” My heart was thumping in panic, both at the idea of that brutal whip attacking my cock and at what the consequences of her disappointment might be. “So what shall we do instead?” she asked, now cradling my balls. I froze, terrified. She started to squeeze, listening to me moan in pain. “I know,” she said suddenly, “Perhaps I should whip the skin off your ass instead. How does that sound?” She gave my balls a tight squeeze until I growled, then let go, laughing and moving away from me again. I head the coil of the bullwhip brush the floor behind me. Every nerve in my body was tensed, waiting for the onslaught.
I thought I heard the whip whoosh through the air, and a moment later it landed across the middle of my ass cheeks. It felt like it must have cut into me, brilliant flashes of pain were flashing behind my eyes. I let out an unearthly scream, hoping that it might persuade her to ease off, but it had no effect. Again and again she repeated the lashes, rhythmically as before. Her objective was to give me whatever it was, ten a dozen or more lashes, and no amount of screaming was going to change that. She even seemed to enjoy my screams, laughing cruelly as she worked me over.
Eventually she stopped. I was crying and snivelling against the post, shaking from head to toe. I could sense her presence again, but she did not speak for a long time, just watching me. Then she said, “Laziness is when an animal refuses to work.” She was speaking softly again. “When you are told to work, to gallop or run or whatever it is, you will continue until you are told to stop or until you drop dead.” She let me consider that. “Do I make myself clear?” I nodded, praying that this would be the end. She did not respond for a long time.
“I told you it wouldn’t be very successful,” she said to Mistress Paris.
“He does have very poor stamina, I know,” she replied.
“Nothing we can’t put right, given a little time though. Let’s leave him to think it over. I’m hungry – you are staying to dinner, I hope?”
“I’d love to yes,” Mistress Paris responded. “Shall we leave him here?”
“He’ll be safe enough, but… you’re right we shouldn’t let him get bored.” I heard some quiet beeping noises, and then Mistress Serena hung the control for the anal plug just above my head on a nail. “There,” she said. “Something to keep you entertained.”
“What is it?” Mistress Paris asked.
“Just wait a minute,” she replied. Both women laughed quietly and watched. I did not really understand, still in shock from the whipping, but after about sixty seconds the anal plug suddenly gave me an incredibly hard jolt. I screamed in agony again, “AAAAGGGGHHHHHH!”
“Random shocks,” laughed Mistress Serena. “A nice feature. It should keep him entertained for a couple of hours until the batteries go flat. Just long enough for dinner.”
Both women laughed hysterically and I heard their footsteps going across the yard, leaving me hanging alone. When they were almost out of earshot, the plug zapped me again and again I cried out in agony. In the distance, I heard them burst out laughing again.
The torture lasted a couple of hours. The pain seemed to get worse at first, presumably as my body weakened, but eventually the shocks lessened and finally stopped. It was getting dark by then, and I felt the cold creeping over my bare skin. After what seemed like another couple of hours, the women returned, and I started to shake with fear as well as the cold.
“You’re sure I can’t train him properly?” Mistress Serena said as she entered the barn. “I promise, leave him here for a week and we’ll have him completely broken. Living 24/7 as an animal. I have three wonderful stable girls who could easily whip him into shape.” I suddenly tensed, realising what might be about to happen.
“I don’t doubt you could,” Mistress Paris said, “but I have other plans for him.” I relaxed a little, though I had no idea what her plans were.
“Well, if you change your mind…”
I felt fingers unbuckling my harness, mittens and bit. Eventually, when they unhooked me from the post I almost collapsed on the floor. Mistress Paris handed me a small bottle of water. It was the first act of kindness that I had received all day. It seemed so simple, but I felt a surge of gratitude towards her. She may be a sadistic Goddess, but she looks after me too, I thought. I felt the bond of ownership and control between us strengthen.
They shoved me out of the barn towards Mistress’ car. I stood by the boot, while the women said their goodbyes.
“How long has it been,” Mistress Serena asked, pointing to my chastity cage.
“Umm, just over four months now,” Mistress Paris replied. “I was thinking of releasing him, but he just keeps disappointing me, like today.”
“Oh no, you can’t release him if he disappoints,” she laughed cruelly. “And he was a big disappointment today.”
Mistress Paris nodded, and opened the boot of the car. “In,” she ordered, and I climbed in, looking up at the two women. “Yes, a big disappointment. I don’t think he’s getting free any time soon.”
“Not until he learns to impress you,” Mistress Serena suggested.
“Exactly. And he needs time to learn to impress me.” My heart sank, knowing what was about to come, but hoping and praying that it would not be an excessive penalty.
She looked me in the face. “You get an extra month,” she said coldly.
“Please… please no, no, please Mistress, PLEA -“, but she slammed the boot shut.
So this is my life. I am her toy, her plaything, her entertainment. I have no option but to obey her and she can keep me locked in crushing maddening frustration for as long as it amuses her. She delights in the torment she causes and she delights in showing me that she enjoys it.
As I thought about my predicament in the dark, I felt myself swell against the steel pins that have punished every single erection I’ve had over the past four months. This may be hell, but somewhere… deep inside… it was heaven, a heaven created by my Goddess.


Test Drive………Part one

Her text message arrived as I was having breakfast, and as usual my heart skipped a beat wondering what she would demand of me this time.

“You are coming on a test drive. My place at noon. Wear trainers.”

Her orders were often cryptic like this, and I had learned the hard way not to question them. She had my cock locked in a steel prison, and anything short of unquestioning obedience was likely to get me locked for even longer. I was curious though. Trainers? And why would she want me to go on a test drive with her? Perhaps she thought I knew about cars, a topic where my ignorance would surely disappoint her. Disappointing her was a mistake.

I arrived on the dot of midday, eager not to give her any reason for extra punishment. She greeted me with her usual disdain, but rather than to the dungeon, she led me out to the garage. This was unusual, but I thought it made sense if we were to go on a test drive. Her car was parked inside.

She looked at me for a few seconds in silence, then ordered, “Strip”, casually pointing to a rubbish bin that I could drop my clothes into. I obeyed quickly and without speaking.

When I was completely naked, she grinned at my cock cage, toying with it. “Are you hoping to be released today?” she asked with a sweet smile. To be honest, I wasn’t, and just swallowed nervously, though the touch of her hand was incredibly arousing and I felt the evil spikes inside the device digging into me. “Well, forget it,” she said, sharply changing her tone. “Now put your trainers back on.” This was getting very unusual. But of course I obeyed her instantly.

She opened the boot of her car, which was empty. “Get in,” she said. I nervously stepped into the boot, wondering what the hell was going to happen. She closed the lid without explanation, and I could hear her coming and going for the next couple of minutes, opening and closing other doors as if preparing for a trip. The boot was pitch black, but there was plenty of air at least.

Eventually I heard the garage door open, the engine started and we moved off.

The feeling of being completely naked, being driven away to who knows where, for an unknown purpose, by a woman who had proved herself to be capable of chilling cruelty, filled me with dread. But there was nothing I could do but wait in the dark and stew.

We drove for perhaps half an hour. Eventually the car slowed and we started to drive over gravel, which I guessed was a driveway. Then we stopped. I heard Mistress get out of the car and shut the door, walking away over the gravel. Then silence.

The silence went on for a long time. All I could hear was the occasional squawk of birds. But eventually I heard footsteps approaching the car, two this time, and quiet female voices. The boot popped open and I was blinded by the bright sunshine. “Out,” I heard Mistress order, and so I clambered out, still shielding my eyes. Eventually I saw that Mistress was with another woman, and both had changed into riding gear: black boots, tight black jodhpurs and light sports shirts. Both of them were carrying riding crops. We were in the middle of a stable yard with a grand looking house on one side and a row of stables and farm buildings on another two. The third side led to a grassy paddock.

“This is Mistress Serena,” she said. “You will obey her without question.” I nodded, still not really able to see clearly. Then I heard Mistress Serena’s laughter. “What’s this?” she asked, and lifted my cock cage with the end of her riding crop.

“Oh, just a little experiment in frustration and obedience,” my Mistress replied, laughing too. “Oh wait,” she added, “That’s got to be one for the mailbag.”

“The mailbag?”

Mistress Paris fished her iPhone out of a pocket and started to frame a picture of us both. “Yes, we have a little agreement, don’t we slave? If he should cut himself out of his cock cage without permission, I will send the contents of the mailbag to all his family, friends and colleagues.” Both women burst out laughing. “I have some absolutely wonderful pictures of the fun we’ve had together.” Again, they both laughed loudly while I just felt the despair of my utter helplessness.

When the laughter stopped, Mistress Serena stepped close to me, speaking quietly. “This place is for training animals,” she said. “You are nothing more than an animal here.” She let that sink in. “You may not speak, move or look at me without permission. Is that clear?” I nodded nervously, dropping my eyes. “Good. Because if you get it wrong…” she paused, raised her crop, and gave me a hard stroke across the backside, “… you will regret it.” I jumped and nodded frantically; she smiled back coldly. Then she pointed to a large building at the end of a row of stables. “Barn. Move.”

I walked briskly towards the barn, incredibly conscious of my nakedness. The women followed me close behind. Inside, the barn was large and open, with a hay loft above and several thick wooden pillars holding up the roof. There were no windows. All around the walls and on the pillars hung pieces of riding tack, straps, saddles, reins and so on. One wall seemed to be covered in whips and crops, canes and paddles. I felt more naked than I could ever remember.

Mistress Serena picked up some sort of hood. I was afraid to look too closely, but she untangled it in front of me and I assumed I was permitted to watch. It was like a balaclava, but with an opening for the mouth and the ears as well as the eyes. Along the top there was a line of brightly coloured red bristles. She pulled it over my head, tightening it from the back, and strapping a wide belt around my neck tightly. I realised that the eyes were shielded with blinkers. With the helmet on, I could only look directly ahead, which was a curiously claustrophobic feeling.

Next she took two leather mittens and forced one over each of my hands. They buckled up tightly and I could not move my fingers within them. Then she strapped the wrist of each mitten to the top of the same arm, so that all I could do was to wave my hands helplessly from my shoulders.

Then she took a thick rubber covered bar, about six inches long, and forced it between my teeth. There was a steel ring in the middle on one side of the bar and a flat plate on the other. The bar wedged my jaws open, and the plate pressed my tongue flat, though it was not too uncomfortable. The ring stuck out forwards, as if to attach a lead. Straps from each end of the bit were buckled behind my head and tightened, forcing it deep into my mouth.

Then she stopped to admire her handiwork, with Mistress Paris. I could not see them without turning my head, but they were both laughing and making comments. Eventually, Mistress Serena asked, “Now repeat after me: I want to be a well behaved little pony.”

“Aaah aag oo ee a gehh gehhhaaa eegh ooohhhee”, I said, struggling with both the bit and the tongue plate. Both women fell about laughing and I felt a familiar surge of humiliation.

“Yes, you will be,” said Mistress Serena. “But first we have to make you understand the price of failure.” She picked something up and waved it in front of my face. It looked like a flogger, but with tails that were the same colour as the bristles on top of my hood, and with a handle made of shiny metal with copper coloured bands. She dipped the metal handle in a bucket of water and then shoved me roughly up against one of the wooden pillars, kicking my legs apart. She twisted the wet metal handle between my butt cheeks until she found the pucker of my ass, twisting and pressing harder until all eight inches of the cold metal had invaded my hole. At the end, she stretched my ass over a wide lump in the handle and I knew I could not force the thing out. It sat inside me, cold and hard, and I could feel the tails brushing against the backs of my legs when I stood upright. My new pony tail, I realised.

“Very pretty,” she said walking around in front of me. “But it gets better.” She showed me a small black object in the palm of her hand, like a car key fob. Moving her thumb, she stroked a button on the device sensuously, while I watched. She grinned, then she pressed it.

My ass exploded in electric pain. “GGGAAAAAAHHHHH!”

Both women laughed. “Just a little demonstration of what we do with disobedient animals,” Mistress Serena said. “Think of it as encouragement.” I just stood shaking from the shock and surprise of the pain, and the terrifying realisation that this woman could fill me with pain at the press of a button and there was nothing that I could do to stop her.

Turning to the rack of whips and crops, Mistress Serena picked up a very long thin sort of whip, whooshing it around. “This is also a form of encouragement,” she said. “It’s called a buggy whip. It’s not intended to cause harm, much in the way that anal plug won’t harm you. It just causes pain, for those times that we need a little pain to encourage you.” She laughed again, and whooshed the whip in my direction. Even though she was several yards away, the tip of the whip slashed the side of my body. The thin end of the whip was made of something stiff, but flexible, and it stung horribly leaving a burning line on my skin.

Trying to avoid Mistress Serena’s eyes, and limited by the blinkers, I was staring at the wall containing the whips and crops. One whip in particular was much larger than the others – a truly brutal looking monster, coiled and hanging on a large hook. She must have followed my gaze. “I see you are interested in the larger whips,” she said. I instantly looked down, but it was too late. She stood in front of me and lifted my chin with a finger. “Those are not for encouragement,” she said calmly. “Those are for punishment. They cause harm. You could be scarred for life by some of them, both physically and mentally. So don’t say you weren’t warned.” She looked into my eyes seriously for a while, then moved away.

“So, to business,” she said, attaching one end of a long leather strap to the side of my bit. “Come,” she added, leading my out into the gravel yard. She stopped, then stood a few yards to my side, letting the strap line pull taut. “Walk,” she commanded. I walked forward, but as she had me on a lead it was pretty clear that I should walk in a circle around her. I could not see her because of the blinkers, but there were no other orders, so I kept walking in a circle.

“Lift your knees,” she bellowed. “Higher.” This made me feel like I was marching. “Point your hooves down.” Now I was starting to feel utterly humiliated, trussed up and treated like an animal, even trying to mimic a horse’s movements. “Knees higher!” she shouted, and a moment later a burst of pain kicked my ass, sending crackles of agony through my guts. I staggered a little, but tried to raise my knees. “Now trot,” she ordered. “One two, one two, one two…” I tried to obey, dancing around in a circle. “Knees up!” and another slash of pain kicked me. “Point those hooves!” She seemed to be enjoying the game, though I was getting more and more exhausted. “And canter!” she bellowed. I had no idea how to canter, so I just trotted a bit more quickly, careful to keep my knees high and feet pointed. She seemed happy with this, finally ordering, “And gallop!”, which sent me flying round the ring as fast as I could manage. “KNEES!” she yelled after a while, and another bolt of agony tore through me as I galloped around for her. Then she started to use the buggy whip, slashing at my back, “FASTER! FASTER!”. I galloped until I thought my legs would give way. Eventually, she started to wind down. “And canter… and trot… and walk… and stop.” When she finished I was dribbling over the bit, completely out of breath, and fearful of what hellish humiliation was to come next.