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

Chapter 6

"How could you be so enormously stupid?" Myrna screamed furiously at Joan.

They were in Myrna's trailer and the woman had just told the weeping girl what the consequences of her act were. The lion was a killer now and would have to be destroyed. There might have even been a possibility of hope had not the fight ended in Mae's death. Then both cats would have been put in zoos. But once a tame cat became a killer there was nothing else to be done but destroy him. And it was all Joan's fault. She had overstepped her authority and the results were disastrous.

Myrna's act was ruined. The two lions that she had trained to allow her to stick her head into their mouths were gone. Where could she find such animals again? And the time to train them? She was ruined because of an impulsive, unthinking child.

There was nothing Joan could say. So she wept.

"Here I am with your collar round my neck!" Myrna continued to fume.

"My cats are gone and a spiritless bitch sits sobbing in front of me.

It's too goddamn bad that it would kill you or I'd cut you up like Mae, you dumb little bitch! And I've got your collar on!" Myrna shook her fists at the heavens as if her rage were inspired by the gods of fate.

"Please, Myrna, please," Joan burbled. "What can I do? What can I do?"

"I don't know yet," Myrna's eyes glowed with contempt and rage. "But you can be sure you will pay. For a start, you can put this around your neck." Myrna's hands fairly tore the mink collar from around her throat and threw it at Joan.

It was the same kind of collar that Amanda wore, and Joan knew that if she placed herself into submission to Myrna, she would become like Amanda. Myrna would have won again.

Even though Myrna had allowed the collar to be fitted around her neck she had struggled continually. Now the roles were reversed.

As if the guilt Joan felt were not enough, Myrna was now insisting the path to forgiveness for the havoc lay in enslavement.

Darkly, a secret thrill rushed to Joan's womb. She had never played that role before!

She imagined what the collar would feel like as it surrounded her throat. Suddenly she wanted to know and at the same time she felt the heat in her crotch spread like a flower through her hips. She wanted to submit! A whimper escaped her lips.

"Pick it up and put it on." Myrna's voice was like thunder in the small room.

"As you wish." Joan felt the words pass her lips and was surprised at how easily they came out. That is what Amanda always says, she thought and felt as if she were gently relieved of a great burden.

She got down on all fours from the chair in which she had been slumped and crawled to the collar. Her tears had become whimpers and she seemed to cower like a dog.

"Please, please." The tiny sound was surrounded by Myrna's heaving breaths.

"Put it on," Myrna commanded. "From this moment on you are mine to do with as I choose. Do you understand that?"

"Please," said Joan whimpering as she put the collar around her slender throat.

The leather was hot and pliant as her fingers struggled to fit the tongue of the belt through the buckle. But the mink fur was sensual and soft.

"And cinch it tight. I want you to feel it."

Joan's fingers trembled as her mind whirled in a jumble of conflict.

She was submitting to Myrna's will and the feeling thrilled her. She wanted to grovel at the other woman's feet.

"Punish me, please," Joan whispered. She felt her heartbeat quicken and her cunt grow hot with the thought of what Myrna might do.

"Here. Let me do that." Myrna strode to her side and seized the buckle from the girl's fumbling fingers. Joan felt the band tighten until she choked. But the only sound she uttered was a submissive whimper. Myrna tightened it farther, and despite herself, Joan choked for air.

"Don't want to kill you," snarled Myrna cruelly through her teeth as she ran her fingers between the leather band and the girl's tight throat.

"There, that should do it," Myrna said as she hooked the buckle. Joan felt the blood in her neck swell around the leather band. But she had enough room to breath, barely. Her eye watered and her head throbbed from the sudden surge of blood.

"All right, get the rest of those clothes off," Myrna commanded harshly through the rising din in Joan's ears from the pounding blood.

"It's too tight…" Joan gasped.

"Shut up, bitch," Myrna snarled. "You can breathe and I want it to leave a scar. Just get your clothes off fast." She strode across the room and took a cluster of leather thongs from the wall.

She's going to whip me, Joan thought and something thrilled her until it showed in her eyes and Myrna saw the glow.

"So you think you'll like it, do you?" Myrna's voice was a rasp. "We'll see. And if you do-I may not use it where you like."

Joan was hypnotized with the whip and slowly her fingers unbuttoned her leather vest.

"Please," she mewed as she felt her pussy throb with desire. She imagined the lash on her bare breasts and her nipples stiffened with blood. Myrna saw her lick her lips and that familiar cheshire expression take its place on Joan's face. It infuriated her and she threw the whip away in disgust.

"You can't turn everything to sex," she shouted and slapped the girl in the face with her hand. The effect was like cold water on Joan. Her mind cleared instantly.

"What does this collar mean then?" she demanded to know as loudly as her voice was able.

Myrna was taken aback. In a sense, slapping Joan refuted everything bestial in Myrna's life and the woman was startled by the unconscious admission. But she recovered quickly.

"I don't want to hear anything but your whimpering," she said in a voice as cold as stainless steel.

"As you wish," Joan assented by lowering her eyes and crawling to Myrna's knee.

"Stupid bitch!" Myrna muttered as she tangled her finger up at the back of Joan's head and forced the girl's face up to behold her rage. What she saw in Joan's face was so compelling, however, that she felt pity take the place of her rage.

That Joan was a pagan slave to bestiality was obvious. She could not help her condition. What her actions had caused was as much Myrna's fault as Joan's since she had known of Joan's nature from Amanda.

Joan placed her face in Myrna's crotch and sniffed like a nuzzling dog.

Then, despite her pity Myrna was quickly aroused.

The beautiful girl was as base as a dog and the comparison fired Myrna's imagination to a raging boil. If her nature took to submission as compulsively as it had to bestiality, Myrna knew she would have a nearly perfect body slave. Did she want the girl like that? The responsibility was great. And she wanted the girl right now and with every breath her loins grew more aware of Joan's hot tongue.

"Take them off me," Myrna commanded as she looked down on the auburn top of Joan's head. The girl's face was pressed into the sweet smelling goat leather of Myrna's crotch; without raising her head to look, her hands fumbled over her head and unbuttoned the buttons above Myrna's leather covered cunt. Her mouth breathed heat into the taut coverings while her tongue wet it to make it soft and hot. But then her fingers were finished, and with a tug at both sides of Myrna's hips her hands rolled the pant tops down.

Myrna was naked beneath her outfit. Joan plunged her nose into the lush forest of hair about Myrna's love lips while her tongue licked through the foliage for the slit. The tip encountered the tiny wings of flesh at the top of Myrna's clit and she twirled her tongue. Myrna moaned and Joan mewed.

"Stand up and take off my top," Myrna commanded and Joan rose.

Her fingers toyed with the buttons down the front of Myrna's leather shirt and the smile on her face was kittenish.

"Why did you want to be whipped when you've told me how you feel about cruelty?" Rather seriously Myrna asked the question even though she was panting for breath.

"I want to be broken," Joan replied simply as her fingers moved lower on Myrna's front.

"I will not whip you," said Myrna with control. "As you wish." Joan then nuzzled between the globes of Myrna's now exposed breasts. Despite the effort she was making at reserve, Myrna gasped as Joan licked her tongue across one plum-colored nipple. Joan's mouth moved to the other nipple and Myrna felt the cold air on her aroused bud.

"Do you know that Andy was licking your pussy when I came up?" Myrna's voice was passion laden, her breath heavy as she questioned Joan.

"Ummmm… so that's why my stomach and thighs were still wet when I woke up." Joan's words mumbled on Myrna's velvet breasts. "What made him stop?"

"Mae finished eating and was prowling nearby. Andy is very protective at times."

"Oh Myrna! Can't we save him somehow?" Joan looked up to the other woman's face with abject eyes while her voice pleaded.

"Quiet," Myrna commanded and pushed on the girl's shoulders so that she was forced to kneel with her nose only inches away from the woman's lush crotch.

Joan grasped Myrna's naked ass with both hands and pressed her face into the heavy growth. She was intoxicated by Myrna's musky scent and a mew of pleasure came from between her lips. Her pink tongue tip followed it and licked up Myrna's labia. The soft lips opened for Joan's tongue to dip into the honey pot and spoon the hot juices of the woman's pussy into her avid mouth.

"Let's move to the couch," Myrna moaned passionately.

"As you wish," Joan's muffled voice replied.

Myrna curled her fingers between the leather backed collar and the girl's neck and led her like a dog to the couch. Joan coughed at the pressure.

"How does it feel, dear?" Myrna asked with hard bitchery in her voice as they reached the couch. Joan did not bother to answer but instead nipped with small bites on Myrna's fleshy ass. The woman yelped and pulled on the collar until Joan choked for air.

"Don't play games, bitch!" Myrna's face was an angry, threatening snarl even though she was full of self-doubt.

When Joan had admitted her willingness to undergo the whipping, it was as if Myrna's last resource had been taken away. She felt as though she was about to fall off a tall building. How long before Joan knew of her failure? But Joan truly deserved to be punished if only Myrna could find the strength in herself. Why was it absent? From a lifetime of empty words such were the thoughts running through Myrna's head when the phone rang.

Joan flashed, "I'll bet it's Amanda," and she looked upwards at Myrna.

She could see the lush swelling gourds of her beautiful plum-tipped breasts looming above the woman's thatchy ebony covered mound.

The bell shrilled once more and Myrna started to answer it, then seized the opportunity of the moment and bent it to her will.

"Answer it," she ordered Joan.

"As you wish."

"And don't be so damned submissive, bitch!" Myrna exploded in utter exasperation. Then she slapped her forehead with disgust. "Stupid," she muttered to herself as Joan went to answer the phone.

"Hello, Amanda." No! thought Myrna, she couldn't have known. What if it was…

"Yes," the girl replied into the mouthpiece, all the while eyeing Myrna levelly. "Yes," she went on.

"Give it to me," Myrna spat out and snatched the phone from Joan's hand. "Hello? Who is this?"

"Your sister, dear." Amanda's melodious voice floated through the receiver and found Myrna's mind in a fog of disbelief. "Myrna, are you there?"

Amanda's voice expressed concern at the growing silence.

"Yes. I'm here," replied Myrna from a void. It was as if she were suddenly alone in the room with her sister's voice coming from a shoe held in playful pretending at her ear.

"Myrna, what's wrong?"

"Oh Amanda! I don't know what to do. This child has cost me my act and yet I can't tame her. I don't know what to do."

"I know about the lions, dear; and I'm grief stricken. But just hold on and I'll be there shortly. Oliver called-" Myrna cut in.

"You're coming here? Oh, thank God! But what should I do with Joan until you get here?"

"How is she?"

"What the hell do you mean how is she? The little bitch just got Mae killed and Andy destroyed. How is she, you ask. Well, I wish she were dead!"

"No, dear, you misunderstand me. What I mean is what state is her mind in? What ever she feels shows all over her face. She is such a simple child, really."

Myrna glanced at Joan for the first time during the conversation and after a moment said, "She looks like either a zombie or a maniac-I'm not sure which. But in any event, the main thing in her face is sex.

"Is Eric with her?"

"Who's Eric?" Myrna asked, her exasperation starting to churn within her again.

"Eric is Joan's king snake. He acts like a sedative sometimes on the girl. He soothes her if you understand and, of course, you must."

Myrna chuckled slowly in response. "Will other animals besides the snake do?" Myrna felt an idea taking shape in her head.

"Well, Prince for one; and from the letters I've received from her I'm sure that pony of yours is another. But I thought you understood about Joan from the first. She is not to be held responsible for her desires where animals are concerned. She is a free agent."

"I understand. It's nearly impossible to act against, however. How do you ever manage?" Myrna asked trying to remember what they were talking about and suddenly very aware that the subject was just across the room. Joan stared up at her with the glazed expression of a dumb beast and for a moment Myrna was disgusted.

"I have no wish to subject the girl, or anyone else for that matter, Myrna. You should know that. You trained me," Amanda said quietly.

"When are you coming?" Myrna changed the subject curtly.

"Tomorrow morning first thing."

"What do you suggest I do with Joan in the meantime?" Myrna asked rather sarcastically.

"Why not entertain her with the pony, dear?" Amanda suggested glibly.

Myrna had the feeling that she had already thought of that, but since it was a rather good idea she said nothing. Yet, there was something else bothering her. What was it? Ah, yes. Somehow Joan had known it was Amanda calling.

"Amanda. Joan answered the phone with your name. How did she know it was you?"

Amanda chuckled. "Yes, I know. It was probably a hunch on her part, but I do have a habit of interrupting Joan with phone calls at inopportune moments. That was what she replied 'yes' to: I asked her if she was making love with someone and she said, yes, she was."

"I see," answered Myrna even though she did not really follow the entire trend of behavior between the strange girl and her own twin sister. "Well, I'd better go."

Joan was restless. She prowled between Myrna's legs like a pussycat and licked the woman's creamy snatch while she was talking.

"See you tomorrow," said Amanda.

"All right. Goodbye," returned Myrna hurriedly replacing the phone on its hook.

"Jesus, girl! Nothing turns you off, does it?" Myrna exclaimed.

"No." Joan's voice came silkily from below and she nuzzled her nose for Myrna's clit.

Myrna was incredibly disturbed. It was as if she wanted to be eaten softly by the kittenish tongue of the girl, but at the same time she wanted desperately to punish her. And it was evidence she could not do it with sex. The dilemma was ponderable but not while Joan licked between her legs. All right. The girl wanted submission. There was no better time to begin than right now.

"Stop that," Myrna ordered and Joan obeyed with a woeful moan.

"Put some clothes on. I want you in the ring with Clyde. And you are going to perform!"

"As you wish." Joan nodded her compliance and thought of what Amanda would look like saying the same words: As you wish.

Myrna saw the resemblance to her sister pass across Joan's face as the tone of the girl's voice took on a mimicking sound.

"Think you know all the tricks, don't you, chickadee?" Myrna taunted Joan sarcastically.

"Not necessarily," Joan said in a placid manner. "I haven't got any pants to wear."

"Here." Myrna took a silver-studded, goatskin wrap-around skirt out of her closet. "Put this on and hurry it up."

Joan took the leather garment and slipped it on. The feel of leather on her bare skin made her squirm the wet lips of her pussy together, and she became anxious to know where they were going.

"What are you planning?" Joan inquired. She knew she was taking more liberty than her role as slave allowed.

But Myrna surprised her. She did not give the conventional response and shut her up but instead answered her honestly. "I don't know."

"Well, aren't you going to get dressed as well?" Joan asked innocently.

"Apparently I've forgotten myself," Myrna answered bemused and took a light weight raincoat from the closet. "Get your top and let's go." She slipped the raincoat on and crossed to the door.

"Don't you want your whip, Myrna?" Joan taunted as she shrugged on her calfskin shirt.

"Bring it if you wish," Myrna snapped and swung the trailer door outwards, motioning Joan to go before her.

The summer night air was warm and beneath the leather outfit Joan's body began to sweat. She was hot everywhere.

The tight collar still was hard to breath against, so her nose flared with every long breath. Her scalp tingled with perspiration from the blood gorged in her head. The control she exerted on herself to remain submissive to Myrna took a visible effort. All in all, everything the girl's mind dealt with contributed to heat and the accentuation of her drive toward sex. The sweat poured into every crack of her tawny body and made the leather slick. Her face was red.

Myrna on the other hand was cool beneath the light raincoat and the warm air was like a caress against her naked skin. Her large breasts pressed her nipples taut against the fabric and jiggled with each step.

The breeze kissed its way down along her marble thighs and blew lightly among the lush ebony curls between her sculptured loins.

Myrna was contemplative as they walked. What Joan had must somehow communicate itself to animals. Because, wasn't Andy eating her when Myrna had arrived at the tragic scene? Myrna knew there was no way of explaining something like that to anyone who had not seen it. And even then, unless one knew of Joan's nature before, the sight would most likely be taken for a freak event.

The pensive Myrna had dropped behind the girl, and she saw Joan pause and stand still near Clyde's stall, waiting for Myrna.

Good, thought Myrna: She is maintaining her self-control even though she knows I cannot master her. Amazingly, Myrna realized she was somehow not disturbed when the thought struck. It was as if she, too, agreed with Amanda that Joan was a free agent and, as such unmasterable. There's something amusing about that, Myrna continued the conversation with herself, but for the life of me I don't know what it is.

"Lead the pony out to the training ring," she said coming up next to Joan. "I want this to be private. All right, move."

Joan obeyed without so much as a glance at Myrna. Eagerly she opened the stall door and led the pony into the aisle.

"I'll close it," Myrna said as Joan stopped to close the door behind the pony's exit. "Go on ahead."

Joan had calmed herself somewhat but her body still felt on fire with excitement. The seams of her leather garments had begun to chafe beneath her arms. Across her sweaty shoulders and down between her breasts, the leather chafed and sweat trickled down the valley to her belly, collecting in the forest of her snatch.

She could smell the strong scent of the tiny horse and her nose took in huge draughts of the strong dank odor. The thought of his pole-like cock sent electric messages to every part of her body and she squirmed with anticipation and desire.

As the pony fell into step slightly to Joan's rear he nuzzled under the hem of her skirt and found his way to nose between the firm buns of her twitchy ass. His warm soft muzzle nearly made Joan melt to the floor.

The pony tasted the salty sweat and licked his tongue between the girl's legs. She moaned when the hot flat tongue cleaved her torrid thighs and licked off the salt. She did not hesitate at the gate to the ring when she reached it but instead hopped lightly over it and urged the pony to move around the outside with a slap on his behind.

When Myrna arrived Clyde was already trotting in a circle around Joan, and the younger girl tossed the training whip to Myrna.

"All right, I'll use it. But keep your leathers on in case I nick you."

"No," countered Joan petulantly. "I want to feel every inch of Clyde that I can on my body. And besides, the nicks might be fun." She took her clothes off swiftly. Myrna swore beneath her breath because there was no way to stop the girl. More than that, she wanted Joan to know what it felt like to be ordered around with a whip popping near her every action.

And well, if Joan got cut, it could not be stopped. Then, too, if she enjoyed it-fine-as long as Myrna herself did not become involved with the ministry of pain. She would treat the girl as she would an animal.

Fairly and without hate. And if for nothing more, Joan would perform because she was bored.

She unfurled the whip with a snake-like graceful side step and a flick of her wrist. It whirred in the air, until she popped it once high above. The sound cracked way up on the whip's hiss and snapped like a spark. Then swiftly, as if she were an adder striking a wisp, she popped one between Joan's eyes, about an inch above the slope of her nose.

"All right, kitten, I want you to mount Clyde while he's trotting.

Move!" Myrna snapped the whip an inch above Joan's hip; but the girl's eyes were still dazed, almost crossed, from the sound before her eyes and she hesitated. Pop! The whip snapped again beside her ear as Myrna's voice ordered: "Mount the horse, Joan."

Pop! The whip above her hip caused the girl's body to start in the direction Myrna wished.

Clyde was trotting quickly about the ring now. Skillfully, Myrna slowed him just a bit with a snip at his forelegs. Then she snapped one again to Joan's rear and saw the girl's ass twitch in response. She popped two quick ones over her buns like dimples, and effortlessly, Joan started to trot.

She timed Clyde's passing after one loop of the ring. With Myrna's whip snapping through the air like a firecracker, Joan ran along beside Clyde and jumped on. Pop! Crack! Myrna snapped the whip high in the air and Joan felt the pony's tempo quicken. Her naked loins sweat against his coat as she slid into the valley between his shoulders and his rump. She felt the bunched bundle of muscles throb beneath her own buttocks and she squirmed her crotch more tightly against the small horse's back.

Myrna's whip popped another order, causing the pony to lengthen his stride until he fairly flowed around the ring. Joan was a flesh-colored blur on he streaking pony's back. His long silver mane and feathers trailed from his gun metal coat and she was forced to hang on to his straining neck. Her breasts pressed on either side of his thundering shoulders and Joan felt the horse hair slick with the mingling of their sweat. The effect was volcanic in each nipple. Blood swelled the nubs of her nipples as the coarse hair rubbed and bounced against her gelatinous tits.

Myrna cracked the whip before the pony's outstretched nose and suddenly he slowed down to a walk. It would not do to run the tiny horse into the ground. After all, she wanted him to be able to perform. Crack!

Myrna used the whip to bring Clyde to a halt.

"Dismount, Joan," she ordered.

The girl got off without speaking. She was too much out of breath to utter a sound. When she was on the ground she leaned against the horse's flank for support while her tiredness overcame her. Her face was nearly purple from the tight collar and mutely her fingers fumbled with it.

Myrna saw the movement and popped the whip beside Joan's ear. "Leave it on!!"

But Joan knew that if she did, she would soon pass out from the blood gorging her head. Awkwardly and still unable to catch her breath to the point that huge black spaces were appearing in the world about her, she managed at last to loosen the collar. She gulped huge draughts of air into her starved lungs while she felt the blood rush from her head. So fast it went that her throat pulsed heavily with its passage, and she staggered. She felt as if she was going to vomit, and without wishing to, fell to the earth and was sick for a moment.

As she looked at Myrna hot tears scalded her face from the subsiding burn of the vomit in her nostrils and her esophagus.

"Kick some dirt over the puddle and go wash your face off in the water trough," Myrna wryly suggested. "You'll feel better in no time."

Without waiting to see if Joan was going to obey she turned her attention to Clyde.

Joan raised herself from her hands and knees and pawed through a bleary world to the trough. She tossed the cold water into her face, then dunked her whole head into the wooden water tray. Softly, it washed off the sickness. When she raised her head the water poured down her neck and across her breasts. She shook her head like a dog with a coatful of rain.

Myrna was standing next to Clyde and the pony was sitting on his rear haunches with his forelegs up as if he were begging.

"Come here," Myrna commanded, gesturing with the hand that held the now coiled whip to a spot just in front of Clyde. Joan complied.

"Make it hard." Myrna pointed to the pony's sheathed cock. Joan kneeled and grasped both hands around the protective sheath. She began to pump her hands up and down on the shaft and was rewarded at once when the pony's blunt purplish-black prick emerged from its hole.

"Kiss it."

Joan dipped her head in obeisance and placed a light pouting kiss on the blunt end.

"That's enough." The girl's head withdrew. The shaft extended itself farther from its case and a drop of crystal fluid formed on the slit.

"Lick it off." Joan's tongue slid from between her teeth like a pinkheaded snake and wet her lips expectantly. She pouted them slightly so that she could surround a kiss about the drop, and then with a dart she licked the semen off.

"Have you ever sucked an animal's cock?" Myrna asked.

"Yes," replied Joan, "a man's."

"Only men?" Myrna's voice was surprised. "Why?"

"None of the other beasts have been noble enough though I have thought Andy would be."

"Would you like to blow the horse until he cums?"

"As you wish." Joan bent her head to comply.

"Not so fast!" snapped Myrna. "I asked you if you'd like it."

Joan turned to face the woman for the first time. "I don't know. Do you wish me to find out?"

Myrna was caught in her own trap. She still wanted to punish Joan somehow. But at the same time the sight of the beautiful girl kneeling with the horse's cock in both hands excited Myrna beyond delight.

Despite her fully justified anger Myrna was caught up with the erotic sight.

"Yes, I do," she admitted. "It's something I want to do and perhaps have been afraid to admit to myself before. Suck it. I want to watch."

As if the now fully distended pecker were a clarinet, Joan turned to the instrument and lipped it, licking a ring around the face with her tongue. It was salty and hot. She stretched her mouth as tightly at the corners as she could, then slipped her taut, elastic lips over the blunt-ended tool. It barely fit between the circle of her lips; how could she get her teeth down the shaft without scraping off a pound of flesh? It was an impossibility. Her mouth would not open that far. A growl full of frustrated rage trembled from between her lips. But when her neck muscles tensed to open her mouth farther the collar cut her wind off. Joan was perplexed.

She did not want to remove the collar for it was the symbol of submission, and once her mind embraced the idea in its full scope, well, she had an excuse to suck the horse's cock. So instead of trying any further to make her mouth bigger, she contented herself with lipping the end while her teeth ran smoothly over the blunt face. Her tongue tip licked the slit of the horse prick while her hands jacked off the shaft. She let her vocal cords hum on the end of it while her tongue licked frantic patterns on the slit purple disc. Her hands could feel the huge member swell and stiffen with her rapid strokes. Then she sucked.

But Myrna was not satisfied. She heard the growling deep in the girl's throat and took it for the hungry sound it was. However, when Joan did not try to choke herself with the prick but instead seemed to settle for a hum and a hand-job, Myrna was miffed to say the least.

Crack!! The whip tip popped beneath Joan's crouching hips and the girl felt gravel spray her loins and twat.

Joan increased the power of her strokes down the length of the gigantic organ and revolved her head and mouth around the tip. Myrna could hear the sucking sounds increase and leaned closer to the event.

The purplish-black flesh of the distended horse cock glistened out of Clyde's belly like a baton. Myrna could no longer remain reserved. With a snarl much like a beast she threw herself to her knees and began to lick the pony's balls. They tasted of grass and sweat and earth and something beastly secret and somehow filled with the zest of life.

Myrna's mouth was hungry for the flavor and she sucked and tongued the wrinkled, loose, hanging scrotal sack with fervor. She took one of the balls into her mouth, then the other, and she heard the pony neigh She could nearly feel the thunder of his orgasm as the huge shaft swelled like a pole past Myrna's ear. Frantically, as if frenzy would somehow overcome her late entrance into the carnal event, Myrna gobbled her way up the length of the prick until she came to Joan's startled eyes and vibrating lips. Then hungrily, because she felt the horse cock spasm and was afraid to be left out, she pulled Joan's face to hers and glued her lips to the seal between Joan's lips and Clyde's cock.

Just then the horse came and Joan's lips slipped off the end to receive Myrna's kiss. The freed member shot huge gobs of hot cum into both their faces as the two women frantically licked the fluid into their mouths. The cock shot another load and splashed Joan's cheek. Hungrily, Myrna licked it off, then turned to take the next load in her mouth.

Like a team then, they alternated turns until every drop of the orgasm was devoured. Unsatiated they fell into each other's arms beneath the horse.

As the women kissed and sucked their volcanic mouths slickly together, their bodies writhed and finally bumped the horse nearly onto his back.

Startled he stood up, but the women were unmindful of him anymore.

Mindlessly Joan kissed her way down Myrna's throat while her fingers ripped the raincoat open. She fastened her mouth to suckle on the woman's breast as her hand stole across Myrna's resilient flesh to her cunt. The slit opened greedily and Joan plunged two fingers into the juicy box.

Myrna moaned and clutched the back of Joan's head tightly against her tit. The nipple felt as if it would burst from the pleasure of Joan's hot kiss. Her other hand struggled between the buns of Joan's firm ass and found the frothing spongy entrance to her cunt. Joan growled deeply in her throat and savagely tongued Myrna's breast while her fingers plunged in and out of the woman's pussy.

And Myrna responded the same way. Like fornicating beasts they groveled together mindless of anything but their own desperate needs while climax after vicious climax caused them to shudder together as if they were both having fits.

Finally they quieted and after a long while Joan heard the gentle whimpers of Myrna's crying. "What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.

Myrna just shook her head mutely with her eyes clenched tightly closed.

"Myrna, what is it?" Joan's voice was instant.

"Oh, I don't know!" Exasperated tears were running wildly down her cheeks. Sobbing she got to her feet. "Oh, damn you, damn you, damn you … take off my collar and give it back to me. I don't want to tame you anymore."

"As you wish." Joan spoke evenly through her cheshire mask and smiled.

Joan stumbled back to her compartment window, taking off her uncomfortable leathers. She was caked with mud and sweat beneath them and she smelled like a horse. Rather than undress in the cramped room she took the garments off outside and trundled tiredly up the ladder.

Once inside she switched on the light and found the door to her room ajar. The key must be back!!

She looked about her quickly but found no evidence of its presence.

Well, at least I can go through the door for a while, she thought. But I've got to get clean!

She took a towel and soap from the cupboard behind a small mirror and trailed it behind her as she went down the corridor to the shower.

"God, I hope no one's using it; I don't think I'd be willing to wait."

She mused to herself, but on the other hand if someone was using the shower she hoped it would be Gloria.

But alas, it was free after all. Quickly, Joan adjusted the water to a fine hot spray and gratefully plunged beneath the soothing liquid. She let the warmth sink into her tired, bruised body and slumped against the wall.

After nearly half an hour she soaped herself until she felt refreshed and then adjusted the temperature until the needle pointed to water that was icy cold. She shivered for a few moments with her teeth clenched, then finally shut the water off and stepped out of the stall.

She rubbed her goosepimpled flesh briskly until it glowed with new life. Her throat was raw and tender where the collar had chafed her skin. Her shoulder ached and the scratches on her hip smarted from the mauling she had taken from Andy. And underneath it all her body wracked with fatigue. It was as if she were a balloon suddenly deflated and she felt almost sick for the need of sleep. Wrapping the towel about her and tucking the end of it between her cool, swollen breasts to bold, Joan made her way back to her compartment.