Now what will Frankie do once all three sisters are broken to his will?
The Last Straw (new 9/7)
Re: The Last Straw (new 6/17)
Cindy won't have to be "broken."
Now what will Frankie do once all three sisters are broken to his will?
Now what will Frankie do once all three sisters are broken to his will?
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Larethdf
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neverdoubted
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The Last Straw - Chapter 51
Lightweight and flexible, the wooden switch made an angry hiss as it flew through the air. It landed with a loud crack right where I had been aiming - at the sexy little crease where her legs started to curve outward and form the lower half of her bottom.
"WWWWAAAAAAAAA---"
Oh, how many times I had heard Beatrice Rose make that exact sound before! It was practically her trademark wail. Frequently deployed when she wanted to get me in trouble and let it be known that she was not happy about something.
Of course, she wasn't happy! She was buck naked in the woods with her arms bound behind her back wearing a harness meant for horses and her stepbrother nemesis had just given her bare behind a painful swat with a tree branch.
Her first instinct was to dart away from whatever had just stung her. But she only made a partial stride before the slack I had let out of her lead rope ran out and her head was jerked around. So predictable.
I didn't want to give her time to think. Animals don't think. They act.
"Let's try that again." Wielding the crop like I was a master swordsman, and it was my prized rapier, I lunged forward and sent another stroke flying in a wide arc. She barely had time to see it coming and hear the ominous swish before it struck home on the plumpest part of her round bottom.
All at once, she realized several things. She could not get away from or move fast enough to evade the crop. And with her arms trapped, she had no way of protecting her precious bottom from more punishment should she try to defy me. She couldn't talk or negotiate or beg. She was not in control. And she only had two courses of action. She could do what her stepbrother wanted and run, or she could stand there while he used the riding crop to stripe her naked backside with painful red lines.
She chose the former.
Pulling the lead rope to its limit, she took off running with her teeth bared. The bit in her mouth turned her head and made sure she could only flee in a circle around me.
She set a faster pace this time. More akin to a canter than a trot. But it wasn't fast enough. She was still holding back - keeping her wild blue eyes trained on the wicked switch in my hand instead of the task in front of her. When I swung the crop through the empty air behind her, it let out an ominous hiss of warning. From the tree line, Mare let out an anguished neigh even as Sweetie Bea squealed and broke into a proper gallop. That was more like it.
Becoming a blur of white and blonde and bits of pink, the naked teen ran with wild abandon. Thip-thop-thip-thop-thip-thop, her bare feet trampled the grass into a dirt path as every muscle in her strong, shapely legs drove her forward.
When she started to lag, I sent the crop swinging through the air again; knowing its distinctive swoosh sound would be motivation enough. Resorting to her former pace, the alarmed runner looked like she wanted to squeal again, but panting heavily by now, she couldn't spare the extra breath.
On and on she ran, until her muscles had to be straining from the exertion. But somehow, she kept at it. She really impressed me with her endurance. Back then, children would run and play for fun, and soldiers would do it to get in shape for battle. But young ladies rarely engaged in such frivolous activities as jogging for sport. What a preposterous idea!
I suppose that, even without jogging experience, someone as stubborn as Beatrice Rose could make her body bend to her will when properly motivated. And the hissing crop in my hand provided all the motivation she needed.
But after a while, she didn't even need that. I could tell she had stopped worrying about the crop when she lowered her head and leaned forward. Focused on the trampled path before her, and adopting a determined expression, she pushed her body to its limit and beyond.
After several more laps, the searing in her lungs finally put an end to her run. Bent over at the waist with her elbows forming into a back hump and her heaving breasts hanging down in front, she slowed to a trot on trembling legs then to a walk.
She stared at the ground as cute abdominal muscles all up and down her torso flexed and worked to suck air into her oxygen-starved lungs. Her normally buoyant bangs were matted to her forehead, and the sweat that had started on her brow now streaked down her cheeks and nose.
Despite the warning to remain seated, Cindy leapt to her feet and applauded her sister's spectacular feat of endurance. Bravo, Sweetie Bea!
Her breathing slowing, she raised her head and stood a little straighter. But I could see in her glassy eyes that she was well and truly broken. The only thing that mattered in her world now was that rope running out from her mouth and telling her where to go next.
Relaxing my grip, I let it drape loosely over my open palm then walked forward. She did not resist but ordered her legs to stumble forward as I took her on a cooldown lap. The vigorous workout had given her bare body a hale glow. And the parts of her anatomy which had jiggled and bounced as she ran now wobbled sexily - coated with rivulets of sweat.
She barely reacted when I moved onto the next part of our demonstration by buckling the figure eight of soft leather around her thighs just above her knees.
The point of the hobble was to show that your horse could be kept close even overnight and without a bridle. But since she was in no danger of running away from the group, I didn't bother to unlatch the lead rope to prove my point. I just had her walk around in another circle to show how a hobbled horse is restricted to small, shuffling steps. But don’t think I didn’t notice how much this halting gait made her breasts jiggle and shift.
It also gave me a chance to inspect her behind while she walked. The mark on the backs of her thighs had lost all its definition and was just a faded pink blur by now. But the other two, especially the sharp red line expertly painted horizontally across her pale bottom, looked like it wouldn't be fading anytime soon.
The hobble prevented her from taking full strides and kept her hips from rocking back and forth as much as they usually did. But I could appreciate the simplicity and straightforwardness of the restraint. The rich leather straps encircling her legs could not be removed without help and prevented her from spreading her bare, virgin thighs without permission. Percy had thought of everything. My only regret was not asking the blacksmith if he could duplicate the design. For while I had three girls, there was only one hobble.
The presentation winding down, I discarded the switch to one side. With Sweetie Bea broken, I shouldn't need that form of motivation again. And if I did, I could always cut another branch from another tree and make a new one.
The final portion of Percy's show had been on the care and grooming of horses. Sadly, I had traded away his hide brush and had to skip that part. But I did have one last surprise prepared. Removing the hobble, I took a final bow to Cindy's thunderous acclaim and a snort from Mare.
"She's perfectly tame now," I bragged to Cindy, as if my lovely assistant really had been some dangerous beast at the outset, "you can take a turn if you like!"
I winked at Sweetie Bea and watched the realization dawn on her ashen face. The presentation may be over, but I was in no rush to take off her bridle. Escorting her to the edge of the clearing, I offered Cindy control of her lead rope.
Cindy's face lit up as she eagerly accepted the offered gift. After all, what girl doesn't dream of having her very own pony?
After checking the travois to make sure our supplies were still secure, I dragged it over behind Mare and re-attached it to her hands and the back of the harness before unhitching her from the high branch she had been strung up to. Then I nodded to Cindy that I was ready to go.
Leading her new pony along, she came to stand beside me and looked up with those clear, adoring eyes and bright smile. Then she snaked her free hand around my elbow and tiled her head against my shoulder.
A tug on Mare's rope was answered with a soft grunt as she got the travois moving again. And Cindy and I, arm in arm with two of the loveliest show ponies imaginable in tow, set off for the campsite.
"WWWWAAAAAAAAA---"
Oh, how many times I had heard Beatrice Rose make that exact sound before! It was practically her trademark wail. Frequently deployed when she wanted to get me in trouble and let it be known that she was not happy about something.
Of course, she wasn't happy! She was buck naked in the woods with her arms bound behind her back wearing a harness meant for horses and her stepbrother nemesis had just given her bare behind a painful swat with a tree branch.
Her first instinct was to dart away from whatever had just stung her. But she only made a partial stride before the slack I had let out of her lead rope ran out and her head was jerked around. So predictable.
I didn't want to give her time to think. Animals don't think. They act.
"Let's try that again." Wielding the crop like I was a master swordsman, and it was my prized rapier, I lunged forward and sent another stroke flying in a wide arc. She barely had time to see it coming and hear the ominous swish before it struck home on the plumpest part of her round bottom.
All at once, she realized several things. She could not get away from or move fast enough to evade the crop. And with her arms trapped, she had no way of protecting her precious bottom from more punishment should she try to defy me. She couldn't talk or negotiate or beg. She was not in control. And she only had two courses of action. She could do what her stepbrother wanted and run, or she could stand there while he used the riding crop to stripe her naked backside with painful red lines.
She chose the former.
Pulling the lead rope to its limit, she took off running with her teeth bared. The bit in her mouth turned her head and made sure she could only flee in a circle around me.
She set a faster pace this time. More akin to a canter than a trot. But it wasn't fast enough. She was still holding back - keeping her wild blue eyes trained on the wicked switch in my hand instead of the task in front of her. When I swung the crop through the empty air behind her, it let out an ominous hiss of warning. From the tree line, Mare let out an anguished neigh even as Sweetie Bea squealed and broke into a proper gallop. That was more like it.
Becoming a blur of white and blonde and bits of pink, the naked teen ran with wild abandon. Thip-thop-thip-thop-thip-thop, her bare feet trampled the grass into a dirt path as every muscle in her strong, shapely legs drove her forward.
When she started to lag, I sent the crop swinging through the air again; knowing its distinctive swoosh sound would be motivation enough. Resorting to her former pace, the alarmed runner looked like she wanted to squeal again, but panting heavily by now, she couldn't spare the extra breath.
On and on she ran, until her muscles had to be straining from the exertion. But somehow, she kept at it. She really impressed me with her endurance. Back then, children would run and play for fun, and soldiers would do it to get in shape for battle. But young ladies rarely engaged in such frivolous activities as jogging for sport. What a preposterous idea!
I suppose that, even without jogging experience, someone as stubborn as Beatrice Rose could make her body bend to her will when properly motivated. And the hissing crop in my hand provided all the motivation she needed.
But after a while, she didn't even need that. I could tell she had stopped worrying about the crop when she lowered her head and leaned forward. Focused on the trampled path before her, and adopting a determined expression, she pushed her body to its limit and beyond.
After several more laps, the searing in her lungs finally put an end to her run. Bent over at the waist with her elbows forming into a back hump and her heaving breasts hanging down in front, she slowed to a trot on trembling legs then to a walk.
She stared at the ground as cute abdominal muscles all up and down her torso flexed and worked to suck air into her oxygen-starved lungs. Her normally buoyant bangs were matted to her forehead, and the sweat that had started on her brow now streaked down her cheeks and nose.
Despite the warning to remain seated, Cindy leapt to her feet and applauded her sister's spectacular feat of endurance. Bravo, Sweetie Bea!
Her breathing slowing, she raised her head and stood a little straighter. But I could see in her glassy eyes that she was well and truly broken. The only thing that mattered in her world now was that rope running out from her mouth and telling her where to go next.
Relaxing my grip, I let it drape loosely over my open palm then walked forward. She did not resist but ordered her legs to stumble forward as I took her on a cooldown lap. The vigorous workout had given her bare body a hale glow. And the parts of her anatomy which had jiggled and bounced as she ran now wobbled sexily - coated with rivulets of sweat.
She barely reacted when I moved onto the next part of our demonstration by buckling the figure eight of soft leather around her thighs just above her knees.
The point of the hobble was to show that your horse could be kept close even overnight and without a bridle. But since she was in no danger of running away from the group, I didn't bother to unlatch the lead rope to prove my point. I just had her walk around in another circle to show how a hobbled horse is restricted to small, shuffling steps. But don’t think I didn’t notice how much this halting gait made her breasts jiggle and shift.
It also gave me a chance to inspect her behind while she walked. The mark on the backs of her thighs had lost all its definition and was just a faded pink blur by now. But the other two, especially the sharp red line expertly painted horizontally across her pale bottom, looked like it wouldn't be fading anytime soon.
The hobble prevented her from taking full strides and kept her hips from rocking back and forth as much as they usually did. But I could appreciate the simplicity and straightforwardness of the restraint. The rich leather straps encircling her legs could not be removed without help and prevented her from spreading her bare, virgin thighs without permission. Percy had thought of everything. My only regret was not asking the blacksmith if he could duplicate the design. For while I had three girls, there was only one hobble.
The presentation winding down, I discarded the switch to one side. With Sweetie Bea broken, I shouldn't need that form of motivation again. And if I did, I could always cut another branch from another tree and make a new one.
The final portion of Percy's show had been on the care and grooming of horses. Sadly, I had traded away his hide brush and had to skip that part. But I did have one last surprise prepared. Removing the hobble, I took a final bow to Cindy's thunderous acclaim and a snort from Mare.
"She's perfectly tame now," I bragged to Cindy, as if my lovely assistant really had been some dangerous beast at the outset, "you can take a turn if you like!"
I winked at Sweetie Bea and watched the realization dawn on her ashen face. The presentation may be over, but I was in no rush to take off her bridle. Escorting her to the edge of the clearing, I offered Cindy control of her lead rope.
Cindy's face lit up as she eagerly accepted the offered gift. After all, what girl doesn't dream of having her very own pony?
After checking the travois to make sure our supplies were still secure, I dragged it over behind Mare and re-attached it to her hands and the back of the harness before unhitching her from the high branch she had been strung up to. Then I nodded to Cindy that I was ready to go.
Leading her new pony along, she came to stand beside me and looked up with those clear, adoring eyes and bright smile. Then she snaked her free hand around my elbow and tiled her head against my shoulder.
A tug on Mare's rope was answered with a soft grunt as she got the travois moving again. And Cindy and I, arm in arm with two of the loveliest show ponies imaginable in tow, set off for the campsite.
Re: The Last Straw (new 9/7)
BRAVO Neverdoubted!
I'm greedy--more, please. I know, I'll just have to wait.
Thank you for what you provided. It was enjoyable to read how Sweetie Bea got tamed. But will she and Mare stay tamed?
I'm greedy--more, please. I know, I'll just have to wait.
Thank you for what you provided. It was enjoyable to read how Sweetie Bea got tamed. But will she and Mare stay tamed?
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XboxPoptart
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Re: The Last Straw (new 9/7)
always glad to see another chapter of this. One of my favorite ongoings.
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