Date: Wed, 14 Mar 2007 00:04:48 -0500
From: d.a. w <daw62@hotmail.com>
Subject: "The Farm" Part 2

Thanks to the many who have written comments.  They are much
appreciated.  A sepcial thanks to White Collar for editing.  Hope all you
engoy part 2.


              THE FARM                Part2


 Kevin lead the way this time out of the training room, and on the way
out Andrew noticed that the walls were thick and soundproofed.  No wonder
that he had heard nothing of the screams and sounds of torture inside the
barn, and certainly nothing would escape outside the barn.  Andrew stole
one fast glance back at the training scene, and this time noticing that
other naked prisoner slaves were chained to the wall, hanging from chains
from the ceiling of the training chamber, and in various dungeon devices
like saw horses and slings.  This place could provide enough variety that
a slave trainer would not have to use the same exact device twice in many
days he thought.  Imagining himself in some of those devices, which he
recognized from the magazines he read, and some whose use he could only
fantasize about, caused another rise and drip from his cock.  Andrew
could not remember a time that his cock had been hard so long, deflated
just a little only to reharden again, and drool again and again.  Had he
been naked as he liked, and to lie on his own bed and beat off, he would
have guessed that his little prick would have spouted many times, and
begun to be rubbed raw.  "Well," Andrew though, "this was one great
idea.  I'll have enough jerk off images to keep me happy for months."

   When the door had been closed, and Kevin again locked it, Andrew
looked over at the smiling Kevin.  Kevin said "I'm glad you've come out
prof."  Andrew winced a bit at the familiarity, but the wet front on his
slacks didn't allow too much room for professorial superciliousness.
"I'm also glad I figured out the economics you REALLY wanted to see,"
Kevin added.   All this time they were walking through the barn toward
the back door.  Kevin pressed a button on the wall, and this door slowly
opened to reveal a series of trails, and to his right, a trail leading to
an oval racetrack.

Right in front of them was his cart with a truly magnificent black male
animal hitched up in front.  His pony was not standing upright.  Its
waist harness was attached to the shafts of the cart.  Around the pony's
neck was a collar, which went not only around its neck but also under and
around both armpits.  From this device other attachments to the shafts
were made, and the pony was definitely attached to the cart, and there
was no way it could release itself with its hands immobilized in front of
it.  The reins went from the bit down through guides on the neck harness
and then through more guides on the waist harness, and then into the
cart.

Kevin invited Andrew into the driver's seat.  "God what a view," Andrew
almost audibly gasped as he looked over the back of his pony, and noticed
that the pony's head was also pulled back and up by a leather strap from
the back of its head harness to the neck harness device.  "Having the
neck up like that would have to be uncomfortable," Andrew thought, "but
that'll be all the more fun for me."  Finally Andrew looked at the tail
on his pony and the powerful thigh and glute muscles which sort of
quivered in readiness.  The tail came out of the harness facing up, and
so the tail was elevated and a bit away from the ass crack.  Andrew could
see the shaved and exposed asshole right in front of him, and in a holder
near his right hand the plunger, as Kevin had called it.

"I've had it greased for you," Kevin said.  Andrew noticed that the
pony's head moved ever so slightly at hearing this information.  Clearly
ponies were used and lived as animals but you had the added torture of
knowing you could say things about them and the animal would understand,
but be totally helpless to react in any but the smallest of ways.   "WHAT
POWER!" Andrew thought.  It was better than verbally having fun with
jocks in a class.   He couldn't resist and so he said "Could you make
sure that the pepper is really strong in the mixture.  I may never be in
this situation again, and I want to be sure that I have run this pony as
fast as it will go." Andrew could not realize that a malicious little
smile was crossing his lips as he said these words.   Again the smallest
reaction in a little more quivering of the ass, and perhaps some movement
around those quite noticeable asslips.   ""Don't worry," Kevin said also
enjoying the fact that his words were causing two reactions he was
enjoying watching.  "I ordered the strongest dose for you in anticipation
that you would want to make sure the pony remembered your efforts in
driving it to excellence."

Andrew was completely intoxicated by the smell of the being harnessed in
front of him  and the perspiration forming on its body giving it a sheen
and a sweet smell of fear.  Otherwise, he might have noted that Kevin's
words were chosen carefully.  It was a not too different paraphrase of
what he said when he was asking questions and making those jocks sweat
with public humiliation of their lack of verbal, analytical, and writing
skills.  His phrase was "Sometimes you have to hurt and sweat to learn.
A good professor will force you to be uncomfortable to force you to
grow."  This phrase was always delivered with the superior smirk, which
would infuriate the victims under his power and in the grasp of his
merciless attack on their self confidence.  Kevin remembered those times,
but his old professor was so into sniffing the smell of the fear of his
totally helpless victim, and clearly enjoying the view of that powerful
ass and legs, that he was paying no attention at all.

"Horses and ponies are dumb beasts" Kevin then said, showing he too knew
how to say things that a thinking dumb beast would feel the sting of, "
and so you have to tell them everything to do.   A little slap of the
reins will be the 'go' signal.  The rider's quirt or the buggy whip are
the accelerator and the passing gear, and finally the plunger is a
supercharger.  Pull on the side and the animal will turn somewhat in
relation to the amount of pull on the side.  You might have somewhat to
get the feel of how far to pull to the right or left to get the amount of
turn you want.  The ponies have been trained to be very consistent in
their turns.

When we get back I'll show you that training area.  There are marks on
the reins so that the trainer is always pulling almost the same exact
amount, and there are marks on ground of the training area, which I am
sure you can understand by the way that the heads are cinched up, the
pony itself can not see.   However after enough repetitions, a pony will
follow a certain circle with each amount of pull.  They have
progressively unpleasant experiences until this perfection is achieved.
Then every month each pony receives a skills test in this and other pony
behaviors.  A failure to pass means punishment and remedial training,
which is done with heavy harness, electricity, and barbed whips.  No pony
having experienced remediation once ever wants to do it again.  Finally
pull back on both reins at the same time, and that is the stop signal.
 You'll probably have to practice a bit.  It's a bit like learning to
drive a car."

   Andrew as anxious to begin.  Never had he so reveled in the idea that
HE was in the driver's seat.  The human male in front of him in the
freeworld could have terrorized him by the fact that he was so much
bigger and stronger than Andrew, but here, this powerful human animal was
totally under his control.  All that power would be slave to HIS will.

   Andrew gave the reins a bit of a slap, and the pony began pulling the
cart and Andrew straight ahead.  Andrew first thought about running the
pony into a low hedge directly in front of them, and then decided that he
would not do that.  He would first show the animal that HE, the DRIVER,
MASTER ANDREW was in control and knew what he wanted to do, and then when
the animal knew that he intended to make it hurt, require it to run into
a shrub or something like that.

The evil smile grew on his lips as he formed his plan of control and
suffering.  Andrew pulled gently on the left rein and the animal
responded with a slight change toward the left.  It was not enough and so
Andrew pulled harder, and as the hedge approached Andrew was afraid that
the score would be pony 1 and Andrew 0 because the curve was still not
enough at the speed they were traveling.  Andrew decided to let the pony
know that if it were trying to make HIM the fool, the pony would pay, and
he yanked the left rein hard and fully.  Andrew was pleased to see that
within the limits of anatomy and harness Blackie's head moved to the
left, and so do their direction change dramatically.

The left turn negotiated, Andrew and Blackie went out on the paths, which
were paved by the barn, then covered by saw shavings, and finally were
just trodden earth.  These paths were about 10 feet wide, and so he had
chances to keep in the center of the path and still get some feel for the
turns.  After about fifteen minutes, Andrew was feeling enough confidence
to move Blackie out to the track.  The little pony cart he was in was
certainly not a harness racing sulky, but he thought the racecourse was
the place to try speed out on his pony since the course was almost 20
yards wide.

   When he brought his pony to the top of the stretch, he stopped the
pony and leaned forward and patted that muscle builder rump in front of
him.  When his hand touched the flesh both animal and man jumped in
surprise.  Andrew was surprised by the feeling of hardness of the muscles
and the warmth that was already in those muscles from what he had already
put the pony through.  The animal started because it was not expected the
feeling of that cold hand on its ass.

Blackie hoped that no one at the barn or any of the guards saw his
movement which caused his driver to be thrown back into his seat.   If
anyone on those saw it, the best he could hope for was the pin prick
harness which would itch and scratch and irritate his skin as he worked,
and the lead leg weights which would add 20 pounds of weight to each of
his legs.  However his performance was expected to remain the same.

He knew that any loss of productivity  would then in turn receive minutes
of electricity through those devilish electrodes that his owners had had
the vet put into his ball sack, in the flab of skin on the bottom of his
cock, just under his cock slit, and finally two little electrodes
inserted under the skin beside his asshole on both its right and left
sides.

The electricity torture was done by computer, and he remembered the only
time he had been hitched on it.  He had been led into a leather and steel
tube device which held him in place.  And then, as a quiet and
deceptively pleasant voice noted, wires were attached to the terminals of
all of these electrodes which projected up through the skin.  Then after
he had been wired, the attendant said in that quiet voice, "You are about
to experience as close to Hell on earth as you might want to ever
happen.  This computed program has been developed by experts with varying
intensities of current and in patterns of where the current begins and
ends its journey through you that maximum pain will be produced.  Once
the program is begun you have to live with it, as there is no provision
to terminate the program before it ends.

Blackie shuddered again as he remembered how the current had begun so
mildly‑ it was just a tingling and then all of a sudden such a
explosion of pain as he could not believe nor even describe.  He would
have screamed to waken the dead except the bit in his mouth prevented any
but muffled,  anguished cries.  He would have thrashed and fled but that
his harness and the straps and harness kept him erect and able only to
move in inches when feet, yards, and miles were his desire.  Blackie
remembered again the remark that it would be as close to Hell on earth as
he would ever want to experience and how right that prediction was.  His
body would be wracked in pain, then allowed to renew itself so that it
could experience the following burst in full attention and retention of
agony.  It seemed like years, but finally he heard the sound of a
computer bell beeping.  His pain stopped.      Blackie then thought of
how much he was indeed different than when he had first arrived at this
farm.  He had been one of those many angry young black men that the
justice system seemed to take special love at placing in the prison
system.   After several times in the "justice" system, which Blackie
remembered the Richard Pryor line really meant "Just Us" a white judge
had given him five to fifteen years.  Two years of prison life had made
him jump at the chance to leave the prison and find work on a farm.  His
mind in that prison had imagined working like the farm workers he had
seem in movies and on television.

He even had thoughts of an easy escape.  He remembered his arrival when
his MASTER/OWNER Kevin had watched the twenty of them get out of the
prison van, chained but with a new steel welded‑on collar with his
prison number on it.  He remembered using his prison taught skills of
looking and acting defiant as a way of preserving some sense of
individual worth, and keeping others from punking him out.  MASTER had
quickly dismissed the prison guards.  The prisoners were nervous, but
they were determined not to allow anyone to guess their fear.  Several
guards arrived with steel shackles and whips.

MASTER ordered "STRIP SLAVES." The prisoners looked at each other.  Being
stripped and inspected was not a new experience, but being called slaves
was.   Quickly whips sang through the air.  His ass was smacked and even
through his prison jeans the feeling was inspirational.  No matter what
he was called, off his clothes went in a fury.  Then naked they were
marched to a place where the steel rings were attached to wrists and
ankles, and then they were put into a thong like thing, which had a waist
band, a pouch, and a strap up the ass crack.

The training began and on the second day MASTER had picked him out, and
said "I think I'll make this one into a pony." His training as a pony was
so strong and thorough that it was now impossible for him to actually
remember his freeworld name.  He had accepted now the fact that his five
to fifteen year sentence would be for life, and that he was, for the rest
of his life, a pony boy and a slave.

   All those thoughts passed in a second of surprise.  Now the man behind
him said  "You had better really put out on this track or I'll report
that little rebellion, and I bet you'll pay for it.  I might even add a
bit to the story and make sure you really pay for it."  Blackie thought
so much for hopes of finding a freeworlder who had compassion.

Immediately he felt a whip across his ass, and off he ran.  This new
driver had acquired skills fairly rapidly and the rains pulled left at
the correct force to go around the curves easily, and Blackie
concentrated on making the driver happy.  Pain now in running was nothing
compared to the certain pain of the punishment, but the driver seemed
relentless.  Soon he felt the buggy whip on his ass and on his back.
Then he felt the tip of the plunger, and tried to summon every ounce of
strength to run so fast as to escape its plunge into his asshole.

But plunge into his bowels it did, and the driver even rotated it around
to enlarge and rub the compound into the tender membranes inside him.  A
smaller version of the pain of the electricity was in his ass, and he ran
like a demon possessed.  After one complete circuit, the reins were
pulled back and exhausted he stopped.  He was glad the harness held him
up; otherwise he might have collapsed.

   Andrew was also panting, but his was not exhaustion but lust.  He let
Blackie rest a moment and then shook the reins to allow his pony to walk
back to the barn.  Kevin was there, holding a pair of binoculars.  "I see
you were having fun, prof." he said.  "Do you think you have enough
information about the benefits of the use of prisoner laborers, both
economic and otherwise.  Andrew got up, and gave one last longing look at
those thunder thighs and managed a somewhat struggling reply, "Yes.  I
think I've found what I was looking for."

   "Well, I certainly hope that sometime soon you'll be here for a longer
visit, and perhaps to become familiar with all the aspects of prisoner
service." Kevin replied in a voice that might most be compared with a cat
purring as it contemplated a wounded mouse.  Andrew was in his dream
world, and only replied, "Yes indeed, I hope that I will be able to be
here and experience many aspects of what happens to prisoner slaves."
 "We'll plan on that" Kevin replied, thinking slyly of the old remark
that one should be careful for what one wishes...you might receive it.

End of Part 2