"A Kingdom Of Love" - читать интересную книгу автора (Richards Charles)

Chapter 4

"Oliver! Oliver, you and I must talk," Myrna said in a gush as she burst in on the circus manager late that night. "You'll never believe this. But, already that little she-bitch has got her heat on-and I just left her licking Justice's ass in the center ring."

"You should have joined in, my dear." Oliver grinned lewdly at the animal whip in Myrna's hand. 'Evidently, you'll just have to start whipping the girl into shape earlier than you thought."

Oliver Oates, short, squat and blond, chuckled like a greedy fat child after three candy bars.

He was a punster when he could be but most often Myrna's whip cut his wit off short. She glared at him now.

"This is no time for bad jokes, Oliver Oates." She reprimanded the fat little man and the chuckle disappeared. "We're going to have trouble with that kid."

"What kind of trouble, Myrna?" Oliver whined. "I thought your sister said she was an animal lover."

"Oh, stop your sniveling and let me think!" Myrna snapped, then turned her back on Oliver's dismay and stared into the night. "Oh, it's no use!" She stomped her foot, then turned back to face Oates. "I'm sure what Amanda says about the girl is true enough, but that's not the question here."

"Why! I believe you're jealous, Myrna love," Oliver said cunningly.

"What? Of that kid? She couldn't possibly come between me and the animals. Why, my years of experience alone… Hell, I'm old enough to be her mother!"

"That's not what she's come between, dear," Oliver said with relish in his voice. "She's come between you and Justice, Dear. And you're afraid she might be better than you."

"That little brown nose," sneered Myrna unconvincingly. "She'll never be the cocksucker I am-I can assure you of that."

"Have you checked the animals yet?" asked Oliver, suddenly feeling queasy and wanting to change the subject in the face of Myrna's wrath.

"No," Myrna answered irritably. She had nearly forgotten her nightly check she was so pissed at that little bitch. "No, I haven't, dammit!

And wipe that sneer off your face!"

"Yes, Myrna," Oliver said sheepishly as with some effort he turned his lips up into a grin.

"And wipe that insane smile off your face, as well!" Myrna's voice rose in a tirade and Oliver was caught betwixt and between.

When Oliver had nowhere else to go, he became jovial: "Yes, indeedy!"

"Oh God, you are incorrigible," Myrna gasped, completely exasperated.

"Come on. I want you along when I check the animals."

"Not tonight, Myrna."

"Tonight, Oliver," Myrna insisted, now firmly gaining control of herself. "I haven't seen you around the ewe much lately. For a while there, a real love affair was going on. What happened, Oliver? She too hot to handle?"

"There's no need for abuse, Myrna. I'll come with you, of course; just let me get my coat."

As they walked together across the circus ground to the animal tent, Oliver's shape was like a butterball next to the statuesque Myrna. She was still in a lather and smacked the coiled whip against her leg like a tambourine in march step. Her jaw was set and her eyes gleamed with a hidden fever. Her strides were so long that the shorter legs of Oliver nearly had to run to keep up with her.

When Myrna was in this kind of mood Oliver knew better than to say anything; so he merely hurried along by her side and kept silent.

When they arrived at the animal tent, Myrna suddenly ordered: "Put your hipboots on, Oliver. I want you in the ring with the ewe."

Rather than enrage her any further Oliver shrugged his coat off and took the huge rubber boots to a nearby bench and sat down.

Myrna moved between the bars of the cage rows until she found the ewe and her ram. Then she trotted out the female while holding the old man off with the handle of her whip against his forehead. "Phew!" she grunted with the effort. Turning, she saw that Oliver already had his pants off and was into his hipboots. He looked ludicrous; the plump mounds of his white ass glared chubbily in the dark. She flicked the whip sharply from her side and a tiny ping of pain stung Oliver's behind.

"Now you know how I feel about the whip, Myrna. I forbid you to employ it on me!"

"Shut up, and get in the pen, Oliver. Here's the ewe."

The sheep's eyes gleamed like red rocks of fire in her white head as she gazed up at Oliver from beneath Myrna's hand. He was entranced by those eyes and moved like a fat wooden soldier into the training pen.

The ewe followed and Myrna swung the gate closed behind them. Oliver had his back to the animal and when she pawed the ground impatiently he turned to face her. He approached her with a coo in his voice so as not to get her excited at first. He wanted to avoid a struggle with her legs when he picked up her rear end and imprisoned the limbs within his boots. He soothed her fleecy coat with light strokes as he moved along her flank.

"Good girl. Good. Take it easy." Oliver's voice was gentle and sure; as he took her by the loins and dropped her hooves into the hipboot tops.

She squirmed a little and Oliver had to struggle to avoid being toppled, but soon she calmed and he soothed her rump with gentle hands.

Expertly his fingers found the puckered twat beneath the sheep's fleecy ass and he moved his stubby cock toward its goal. Wriggling the tip of his stem into the blossom of the ewe's cunt.

Just then Myrna's whip stung him like a bee on his chubby ass and he screeched his displeasure.

"No whip, Myrna! No whip-I told you that!"

Oliver was beginning to sweat from the effort required to keep the wriggling ewe impaled on his prick. He grasped each side of the sheep's flanks and clutched the loins of her legs to him while his midsection worked to get a rhythm started. He was huffing and puffing around the pen with the sheep's weight on her forward hooves like a wheelbarrow.

He was maintaining his own-but it was a struggle. Finally he managed to guide her into a corner of the square pen and to press her into it.

Her head tucked between the ropes while Oliver resumed his thrusts.

The ewe's twat was elastic and hot around Oliver's stubby joint. As he stroked, it pulled on his foreskin like a suction cup. Both the men and the animal were grunting and too far out of whip range for Myrna to flick.

Lazily she considered whether or not to enter the pen and nick little fleshpots from Oliver's ass with the whip. But she tried not to be cruel to any beast. So, instead she put the thought away and leaned on the gate to watch.

Joan awoke with a start from where she slept curled like a kitten in the crook of Justice's arm. She listened tensely for some sign of what had awakened her, while Justice groaned in his sleep and rolled away from her tension.

There it is again, she thought when the sound of the squawking ewe reached her ears from the direction of the animal tent.

Like a cat she slipped silently to her feet and rubbed her eyes to adjust them from the glow of sleep to the dark night. Then treading with her lightest step she slipped through the night toward the source of the noise. She was the huntress again, and so caught up in the role of a stalking cat was she that she crept off and forgot the room key still clutched in Justice's sleeping hand.

She paused for a moment when she became aware of the cool night air on the swath of her exposed skin. She quietly zipped the leotards back together and the white flesh disappeared with only the slightest of whispers. Then she resumed her quiet stalking of the sounds that had awakened her.

She followed stealthily past the tiers of seats and into the hallway to the animal tent. She crept along in the deepest shadows with all her senses alert and like a leopard did not make a sound.

The grunting increased and she began to suspect that both a human and an animal were responsible for it. As she drew closer she saw the leather-clad figure of Myrna Westmore leaning against the corral fence.

Not wishing to be discovered sneaking about silently, Joan changed her tack. She stepped out of the shadows boldly, being sure to scrape her feet for the noise and approached the apparently enraptured Myrna with a firm step.

As she drew within a few feet of Myrna, the woman's voice suddenly cracked like a whip. "You could have come silently, Joan. I've known you were coming for some time now!"

"You think you always know, don't you?" Joan said reaching the gate.

"You said something very much like that this morning when you found me in the main tent. Did you arrange this show for my benefit?"

"Let's say in response to the brown nosing you were doing with Justice earlier…" Joan eyed the white globes of Oliver's fat ass as they bobbed gelatinously in the dim light.

"What's that-a ewe-he's with? And who is it anyway?"

"Oliver Oates, my dear, the circus manager. And to answer your first question: yes, it is a ewe."

Myrna's voice dropped into a matter-of-fact, friendly tone as she continued, "He was too busy to see you today. You'll meet shortly, though, I'm sure. And now back to Justice, my dear. Another little something that didn't come to your attention today is that Justice is mine alone as long as he is with this circus." A dreamy light came into her eyes. "And I don't think he has any reason to complain." She licked her lips lasciviously.

Joan watched her with deliberate humor and mewed, "My, yes! He does taste good."

At first Myrna did not answer. All that could be heard was the cacophony of grunts and bawls from the fornicating couple in the corner of the pen.

With imperceptible slowness, her eyes seemed to fill with rage and Joan tried to imagine what Oliver and the ewe looked like through those angry eyes.

She could not. To her, they were simply an animal and a man engaged in the event of bestial sex. The union aroused heat in her loins while her mind became cool and stellar in its placid depths. The innocence she radiated in the face of Myrna's rage infuriated the woman to a new pitch. The cheshire expression on Joan's puss nearly made Myrna scream like one of her big savage cats. She would teach this little bitch!

"Think you're pretty good, don't you, pussycat?" Myrna snarled.

"When I want to be, just like everybody else." The cut was obvious and Joan left it to sink in as she continued coolly, "But I don't really wish to talk-I'd rather watch."

She turned on her words and gave her attention to the man and goat. No-ewe, she reminded herself, though what the difference it made she had not yet enough experience in her short life to comprehend.

Suddenly the enormity of her commitment to bestiality glared out of the pen at her and she was fascinated with the sight.

The bawling animal was like an overstuffed sheep dog, while the fat man's jolly buns bunched into her behind. In Joan's imagination she saw the two nutty putty mountains doing the soul shake behind the sheep and Joan squirmed with delight at the thought.

"Like to watch, do you?" Myrna drawled in Joan's ear. "All right. Come along with me."

Joan was fascinated by Oliver and the ewe and did not want to leave.

But then she shrugged and complied. After all, Myrna was turning their relationship into a battleground and there seemed to be nothing else she could do.

Myrna turned and stalked off with a suddenly tired Joan following. From Myrna's tone, what was coming had to be something lewd and Joan wondered whether or not it was all worth it. She was strangely dissatisfied with the whole affair. Bestiality seemed sordid when in the presence of Myrna and Joan did not like the change. Myrna seemed to make a special effort to be dislikeable at the outset of any exchange between the two of them. Joan wondered at the cause.

Amanda was not like that. Joan's mind ran over remembrances of Amanda: the secret, almost blushing smile that washed across her face as Prince fucked Joan and Amanda watched. She truly enjoyed the play. But not so, it seemed with Myrna. Myrna wanted to corrupt everything with hate.

Again Joan wondered what it was that Myrna wished to show her. She would try to make it ugly and Joan would fight to keep it pure. The stage was set.

Myrna emerged from the shadows, leading a pony behind her. The animal's coat was like steeldust in the dim light. And Joan could see a tired, woeful expression on his face.

"It's late to wake him up, isn't it?" she asked Myrna with concern.

The woman only smirked and shouldered her way past the girl, with the small horse trailing dutifully along.

Don't let her get your goat now, girl, Joan reminded herself to be cool. Quietly she joined the train of midnight figures in the rear.

Myrna led her back past Oliver and the ewe. Joan paused long enough to make out that the man must be cumming. Good! she thought triumphantly.

Myrna did not see.

But she did not stay long, as the pony's flank was already disappearing from view. She hurried to catch Up.

Myrna seemed to be headed for the center ring.

Joan wondered if Justice was still there and what he would do if Myrna found him. As they entered the ring she breathed a sigh of relief to note that he had gone. Then she remembered he still must have her key.

Myrna's whip swiftly cracked through the air and the pony trotted away in a widening circle. The whip snapped again and the pony's iron-shod hooves began a rhythmic clomp.

Joan was not sure, but she guessed he was a long-haired shetland. His tail stood behind him like a silver comb and streamed in a point to the long grey feathers floating along his flank. His white mane slapped the steeldust grey of his noble neck and his head turned his eye to follow Myrna's commands.

The whip cracked at his forelegs and he began a goose-step trot. Clip clop, clip clop went his hooves as he strutted proudly about the circus ring. Joan's heart went out to the horse: how beautiful he wag.

Myrna's whip cracked between the pony's legs and he slowed to a walk.

Joan found herself standing next to the seat she had been in earlier in the day, and she sat down to watch the show again.

Myrna was an incredibly compelling figure in the gloom of the dark tent as she spun on her heel to follow the pony's walk. His pace quickened again to the snap of the whip in the air and his coat seemed to sparkle electricity in the dark. Blue sparks clung to his gunbarrel colored coat and shone brightly.

The woman looked like a leather crop handle as she revolved in the center of the ring. Her fingers toyed down the front of her leathers and unfastened the buttons one by one. Her face cast a leonine glare into the shadows where Joan sat and she swelled her breasts with contempt.

She pulled the tails of her deerskin shirt from her waistband and ran her red-nailed hands across her golden abdomen.

Despite her reserve Joan's breath quickened a notch. So did the pony's trot.

Myrna flared the bells of her slender nose, shook her head and stepped up the pace with a nick of the whip on the pony's shiny flank. The animal snorted with the cruel flick and Joan felt contemptuous of Myrna. But she could not deny a flicker of interest in Myrna's charms.

Myrna stood planted in one place now with her body seeming to rock in a rhythm to the pony's clip-cloping hooves. She clutched the whip handle in her teeth while her arms struggled to get out of the snug fit of her leather coat. Her torso was bare beneath the garment and it seemed to Joan that her body was shiny with sweat.

She was like a pagan princess carved out of jade as she stood glaring at Joan with her bare breasts heaving and gleaming. They were as pendulous as Amanda's and swung from her chest like tropical melons.

Joan felt her mouth desire a taste of the sweet water in the melons and stood up without hesitating to unzip her clothes.

When Myrna saw the movement, a leer of sadistic pleasure swept across her face and she peeled her lush hips out of her leather pants.

Joan rolled the leopard spotted garment off one shoulder at a time.

Her breasts were no match for Myrna's in weight but they had a greatly sensuous beauty all their own. Strawberry nipple tips crowned the gentle mounds of her young, eager, sexy flesh. She finished rolling one leg of her costume off as Myrna cast aside her own pants with one hand while she ran the other deeply into the lush dark growth of the furred vee between her legs. She watched the girl roll the other leg of her leotards off and approach her. Myrna was forced to admit to herself she admired what she was.

In the dim tent light Joan's slim body was elven. The sensuality of animal creatures glowed from within Joan and her lithe form radiated a feline grace.

The way she carries herself is so pussy-after-a-dish-of-cream, thought Myrna viciously, wondering how Joan would look with some horse cock stuffed well into her. If there was a chance, she'd damn well find out.

As Joan approached Myrna she felt her cunt heat up with expectation.

She felt the hot slick crease between her legs moisten and the lips pout open as if for breath. Without speaking Joan bowed her head slightly as she reached Myrna and suckled her mouth onto the plum of the woman's breast.

The suddenness of the move surprised Myrna but she recovered herself quickly. Her right hand still held the whip and while Joan kissed and sucked her tender nipple, she ground the handle absentmindedly into her thigh as she spoke.

"I thought you said you liked to watch," Myrna's voice was contemptuous of Joan for what she took to be submission.

"I like to do this, too," Joan breathed heavily, as she took her mouth from Myrna's nipple to answer.

"What don't you like, my dear?" Myrna asked sarcastically.

"Cruelty," Joan replied with a level gaze at the woman.

Myrna laughed in her face.

"I am not cruel, my dear. My love is to administer discipline-not punishment. You misunderstand my actions."

"You may call it discipline, Myrna. But that's not what it looks like to me. Put down that whip if you're telling the truth and let's make love. We will soon know each other well enough to judge."

Myrna threw the whip aside and said scornfully, "I don't need a whip to tame you, pussycat. I can do it with my tongue!"

"We'll see," said Joan evenly and resumed mouthing Myrna's breast. She let the weight of her head hang from the pendulum's end and encircled Myrna's waist with her arms. Myrna allowed her knees to collapse and followed Joan's weight down until their bodies reached the earth.

Joan's mouth still hungrily tongued the hard nipple on the end of Myrna's big breast, and now she let a tiny growl seep between her lips.

Myrna heard the purr and her eyes closed while her head lolled back on her shoulders. Her own hand came up her ribcage and cupped the swelling gourd to Joan's eager lips.

Joan took the areola completely between her lips and lashed the nipple with her tongue. When the nipple was as hard as it could be she sucked it soft then switched her head to the other breast. Her tongue seemed to lick tiny flames on Myrna's vibrant flesh, and she was rewarded by the sound of the woman's groans.

The growl that hummed from her own lips was the same kind of sound she had made earlier as she had vibrated her mouth over Justice's cockhead.

But Myrna's breasts were immense in proportion to the whole of Justice's staff even though his man cock was large under normal comparisons. The turgid knobs of Myrna's nipples were only tiny buttons though, and Joan had to pout her lips in a tiny 'O' to feel the rubber hard flesh. When she could not draw the sweet water taste her mouth hungered after she made her growl a snarl, then began to devour the whole of Myrna's breast.

The increased sound startled Myrna with its fury. Suddenly the kitten had turned cat and was mounting an attack on her breast. But still the pleasures increased even though the sounds coming from Joan's mouth were fearful. Myrna shivered. When she understood she no longer held the upper hand with Joan, her mind cast about for some way to change this ranking sexual order. She whistled shrilly.

Joan heard the clip clop of the pony's hoofbeats change and she sensed him coming toward them. Not wishing to be caught in any situation in which she could not face the onslaught, she rolled off Myrna and onto her back beside the woman.

The pony came looming out of the shadows until he stood just before their legs and stopped. His breathing was heavy from his run and his nostrils steamed warm drafts of air onto Joan's naked thighs. The saucers of his huge, dark, melancholy eyes regarded her from the top of his muzzle.

"What's his name?" Joan turned her head and spoke to Myrna with a ragged breath.

"Clyde." Myrna's voice came out of a deep valley of breath heaving in her passion-gorged tits.

"Oh, why did you give him such a name? He's so much more noble than that."

Myrna sneered a laugh.

"Down, Clyde! And roll over." Her voice boomed the command and the horse obeyed instantly. Joan feared she would be crushed by his weight and tumbled backwards over her head and to her feet.

"So, you're a tumbler, too," Myrna snorted shortly when she saw Joan's move. "Perhaps we should give you to the Wolfgang Flyers."

"No, thank you. Why did you have the pony lie down?"

"I'll show you, pussycat," Myrna said, heaving herself to her feet and stepping to the prone animal's middle. The pony was lying on its side with its legs outstretched. Myrna took both fore and hind legs up and rolled the little horse to his back. When she was satisfied with the positioning she stepped back and simultaneously barked the command,

"Hold!" to the animal.

The pony's rear quarters were wide-spread and Joan could see the skin sheath of his cock grow like a ridge out of his belly. If Myrna had hoped to shock Joan she was disappointed.

"Does he have a big prick?" Joan asked with a touch of excitement in her voice.

Myrna stared at the girl and was thrown off balance by the innocence inherent in the question. "Big enough," she said defensively. Then she added with catty gloating, "Are you familiar with a horse's sexual organs, my dear?"

"Oh yes," replied Joan. "My uncle has a breeding farm in Kentucky and my family goes there all the time. "Will it bother him if I touch it?"

"No. Be my guest," Myrna said completely at a loss as to how to stump the girl.

Joan moved in next to the pony, then dropped to her knees beside him and took the sheath of skin gently in her hand.

At her first touch the nearly flat head of his prick showed itself bluntly at the end of the skin. It was purple-grey and shiny, and Joan could feel the enormous volume move beneath her hand. On the slit end a drop of white fluid formed and stood like the white of an unseeing eye on the blunt stick. Joan stroked her hand over the length of the skin covered shaft and it slid farther into the air. It was big-but not so big as the stallions' on my uncle's stud farm, Joan thought. She increased the steady strokes until the organ stuck out of the sheath of skin nearly a foot. It looked shiny and black and curved up at the end until the last four inches of the blunt tip were nearly perpendicular to the pony's chest.

"It's big, isn't it?" Myrna interrupted Joan's inspection of the gigantic organ.

"Big enough," Joan answered the woman, mimicking the words and tone of Myrna's earlier remark. "Do you fuck him, Myrna, or just watch?" Joan turned her gaze coolly on the woman.

"Fuck him, my dear." Myrna raised her eyebrows in mock horror. "What do you think?"

Joan did not answer but instead placed her lips against the blunt-ended horse cock and murmured something to herself.

"Would you like to watch me fuck him, Myrna?" Joan asked with the back of her head to the older woman.

"If that's what you want," Myrna replied, now even more unsure of what to make of Joan. The girl seemed open to anything, and therefore Myrna could not find a way to blow her cool.

"I don't really care if you watch or not," Joan informed her as she rose and straddled the pony. Her hand toyed briefly with the wet slick lips of her cunt and she lowered her body slowly to the animal's stumpy cock. When she felt the blunt head touch the inner flesh of her labia, she paused and looked at Myrna.

"You expect me to hurt myself, don't you?" she asked when she found a cruel smile on Myrna's lips.

"I don't expect anything, my dear. You seem to know what you are doing, in any event." Myrna's voice was a sarcastic drawl.

Joan did not reply but instead bent all her concentration to her body and to her cunt's attempt to swallow the enormous organ.

She concentrated her breathing until only her chest moved and her abdomen was still as she relaxed the muscles of her thighs and panting cunt. She forced herself to look far off at some spot of indefinable light in the distance. The muscles of her pussy relaxed completely and she let her thigh muscles stretch to their greatest extent. Slowly she let the weight go out of her lower body and felt the blunt-headed tool of the pony's member move deeper between her cunt's slick, soft lips.

Myrna had moved closer when no sound came from Joan and she looked at the concentrating girl intensely. But Joan ignored her and centered her entire being on assuming the gigantic cylinder into her pussy with the minimum amount of fussing.

She breathed slowly and evenly, then fell into an escalating dog pant as first one inch, then two, of the blunt prick worked its way into her depths. She began to sweat with the effort of making no sudden motions and Myrna interpreted the struggle to mean she was in pain.

"Sometimes a little scream lets it feel better right away," she advised like a lewd pedant.

Joan let a slow smile roll up from her lips and into her eyes as the prick made its way a little deeper. She let her eyes roll up in her head as far as they would and her head lolled back on her shoulders. A sigh of pleasure escaped from her lips. Nearly five inches of the enormous instrument were buried in her box and she began to rock herself on it. She felt the rest of the shank touch the elastic ridge between her pussy and her asshole and she clenched the buns of her ass tightly against it.

Myrna saw the distended, purple-black flesh of the pony's cock disappear smoothly into the girl and she was amazed. The little bitch must be incredibly limber, Myrna thought. She was transfixed at the sight of the girl and the pony and almost unconsciously her hand stole to the thick bush about her own hot pussylips. She remembered how painful that very cock had been when she had first attempted to mount it herself. For the first time, something like respect for the slim girl was felt in Myrna's breast. A little doubt of her own ability to tame Joan crept into Myrna, and it was the first time since her sister Amanda that any such thought had occupied her. But she had broken her sister's will. And she would break Joan's as well.

Joan had given herself over completely to the feelings between her legs as the gigantic organ pulsed in her cunt. Her own juices lubricated the blunt shaft as it slid in and out of the flexible walls of her box. She could feel the heat of the huge meat as she humped herself up and down on the shaft. It was like a slab of hot iron as it throbbed to-and-fro inside her. The blunt tip glanced against her cervix at the bottom of her hump and she grunted as she experienced a muted pain. God! Had she already taken in that much of his length? A self-satisfied expression sifted across her face, Myrna sensed a growing defeat in herself as she saw the cheshire smile reach Joan's lips. Bitch! she wailed to herself.

Joan was much too involved with fucking the pony to care what Myrna thought. She swayed her spine forward and cocked her hips like pivots over the massive erection. Then she rippled the long muscles attaching the base of her spine to her hip fronts and slowly ground her pelvis around the cock. Myrna could only marvel at the intense concentration Joan put into the act. She literally chugged her hips like slow moving cartwheels while her trunk remained rigid above. Like a piston driving the wheels of her hips Joan lowered and raised her torso rapidly as her hips thrashed around the tremendous rigid rod of horseflesh below. The girl's body was quickly wet with the effort and her hands ran over her now slick flesh. She found the buds of her nipples and rolled them in a counter rhythm to her rocking hip thrusts. Drops of perspiration began coursing down her brow. It was as if she were mesmerized into some pagan dance, drumming her hips around the phallus with her back arching her breasts to the gods above. She began running her hands up the slopes of her breasts as if they were mute offerings to the god of love. Joan shook the sweat from her eyes and gulped draughts of air into her churning body. Then like a racing filly who had found her pace, she began an even gallop within the saddle of her hips.

"Oh yes! I'm cumming-horsey cock, rock me home. Oh yes, yes, yes!"

Myrna felt as though she were attending some sacred event and for the moment forgot any thoughts of taming Joan. The picture she made as she fucked the horse was so purely erotic that fascination soon turned to the need for more satisfaction and she cast about for the whip. Without even thinking of using it for any other purpose, Myrna pressed the whip handle to the lips of her pussy and pushed it in. Under certain conditions she would have considered using the whip on the girl.

But that obviously was not going to be so easy with Joan. The girl certainly was not like Oliver-or Amanda, for that matter. Her presence seemed to exude the strength of steel. Myrna compared Joan's personality to Justice's physique and found them alarmingly similar.

However, soon the feel of the ivory dildo on the end of the whip took charge of Myrna's thoughts and she drove the hard bone dick relentlessly in and out of her pussy.

It was only after the carved ivory of the pecker-shaped handle had given some relief to the heat of her loins; she became aware of the noise coming from Joan and the pony. Each time Joan squatted on the horse's dick she grunted, then sharply sucked in her breath while her hips thrashed up the pole. The sound was like a calliope when the pony neighed. Up and down she churned on the rampant engine, breathing and grunting faster and faster as she felt herself cum.

"Ahhhhhh!!!!!" Joan screamed her pleasure at the top of her lungs. The sound startled Myrna as she rapidly worked the ivory dildo between her legs. She poked the hard bulb too deeply into her sensitive box and the sharp pain gave Myrna one more reason to blame Joan for her own fall from being high priestess of sex.

The way the girl's body was vibrating it was obvious that she was lost in a continuous orgasm. Myrna could tell that Clyde, as well, was very near cumming. Her own loins were cooling though.

Damn the girl.

Joan felt the first hot gob of the horse's semen blast into her canal and she shook to her roots with the sensation. It was as if she were a sponge suddenly before a roaring river and her body sucked up the cum to overflowing.

"Oh yess, yess, yessss," she snarled as the horse's prick spasmed again and sent more of the fluid coursing within her snatch. Joan's own orgasm had reached such proportions that it ran in sheets down her thighs to dry sticky in the air.

The pony kept cumming. It seemed never to finish, and now Joan's distended box filled beyond its capacity. The thick syrupy fluid mingled with Joan's own pussy juices and dribbled from between her legs onto his underbelly. Finally the pony ceased his giant spasms and shuddered beneath the girl. Joan gently disengaged herself from the horse prick and fell exhausted to his side.

"That was very interesting," Myrna commented dryly to the girl as she lay breathing heavily on the earthen dust of the main ring. Joan wanted to say, Fuck You! But she decided against alienating Myrna any more than she already had. So, instead she said:

"Dear me! I hope I haven't taken all the pleasure out of him for you, Myrna. Does he revive quickly?"

"Fuck You!" said Myrna in a whispered scream. She was nearly beside herself with how truly bitchy Joan was. And she seemed not even to try to hide it at all. So what was Myrna supposed to do when she caught the tip of the bitch's lance? Applaud? Not by a long shot-not Myrna Westmore!

She held the dildo reversed back into a whip handle, and her palm felt the stickiness of her drying vaginal fluids on the ivory. Joan saw her hands move the whip a flicker as the palm caressed the handle savagely.

"If you try that on me and I don't like it, I will spend the rest of my days with the sole purpose of making you wish you hadn't. On the other hand, if I do like it I'll want to see you have a little, too. So start what you want, Myrna. Or else, let's make peace right now and just be careful where we tread. How does that sound?"

Myrna had stopped at the start of Joan's words and trained her attention on what the girl meant. She was saying in effect that if she liked being whipped, she would whip Myrna, too. If not, she would visit a plague upon the lion tamer. As a third choice, there was an amnesty: they would regard each other in the future with care.

Well, the first choice was definitely out. Myrna really never did inflict cruel wounds on any animal. And among humans the whip was but a psychological tool. When fools like Oliver corrupted themselves into its uses; then only did she nick their flesh. Even though the thought was a tempting one, Myrna did not wish to explore the realm of sado/masochism. The self-admission coupled with Joan's apparent readiness to look at the whip as a means of pleasure decided Myrna.

"All right: truce. But leave Justice alone!"

"I'm sorry, I can't do that. To begin with, he is a beautiful beast. Of all people, you should know that."

"I do," Myrna reluctantly admitted. "But I find it impossibly difficult to allow that knowledge to others at all. And what you're asking me to do is far greater than just allowing. You have to give me something just because I live here and you don't. You'll go away and things will never be the same between me and Justice again."

"Things will never be the same in any event. And if you don't act like a fool and fight me for him right where he can see us struggle, he'll never know of this talk. If you'll share him with me, I'll share him with you. Simple as that."

Myrna could see the logic in Joan's argument. If she acted as if it were just the way things were supposed to be, she and Justice would have no argument about Joan and everything would be settled.

"What if Justice doesn't want anything more to do with you?" Myrna asked peevishly.

"I'll risk that. Will you?"

"Justice give me up for you?!? Don't be absurd, pussycat! Wanna bet?"

"That's exactly the bet I've been suggesting that neither of us should make, since I don't want to win him nor do I want to lose him to you.

He is a man, not an animal. One cannot do with love what people do with money and barter over a man's body. We aren't merchants of flesh, but trainers of animals. Don't you see?"

"Of course, I see. But the boundaries of sex confuse the intellectual division between man and animal-don't you see?"

"In that case, an animal, too, should be able to decide who it wants to fuck and not be whipped into the choice." Myrna was silent. "Well, while you think about it, can't we let the horse up? Unless, of course, you're going to use him."

Myrna looked away from Joan at the horse, then let her whip hand fall slack, dropping the whip. "Can you show me how you get so much in without pain?"

"Of course. If you do exactly as I say," Joan replied, amused. She had won the battle and now she would claim victory in the war.

"I will," Myrna solemnly agreed. Then the thought of the hot pony prick in her cunt sent excitement charging in to her voice. She asked. "What shall we do first?"

"Get you a collar," Joan answered matter-of-factly.

"A collar? What for?" Myrna's voice was alarmed as she sensed what Joan meant and her hands flew to her throat.

"Yes," Joan purred and her face wore the same omniscient grin of a cheshire cat. "I have tamed you, Myrna. And you will wear my collar as Amanda does. Will you not?"

"I will wear it." In Myrna's voice was abject submission as she realized what Joan said was true. "Do you wish me to call you 'mistress' or 'Joan'?"

"Wrap the whip around your neck and give me the handle," Joan replied without answering the question. "It will serve as a collar until we have one made." She tested the strength of the noose about Myrna's neck by tugging on the handle as soon as Myrna had done as she had been ordered.

"Now, Myrna. You may call me 'mistress' as you eat my pussy. And I will tell you how to relax for the pony."

"As you wish," Myrna said.