Marketplace (18 page)

“What... what are you
doing? What are you going to do? Let me go, this hurts!” Sharon,
not having learned her lesson from the first time, pulled at her
bonds again.

“It ’urts!” Jack gasped
out. “You silly git, it’s
supposed
to! Now, take your medicine like a good
girl!”

Trying to control his
hilarity, he took a sweat scraper out of his back pocket and palmed
it. It was a fourteen inch long piece of aluminum, curved and
shaped to be pulled along a horse’s body, pushing rivers of sweat
or bathwater before it. It was bent somewhat like a shepherd’s
crook, to be able to get into narrow spaces as well as along the
broad flanks and back of the animal. He took hold of the straight
end, and tapped the back of the tool experimentally against
Sharon’s butt. Faint marks denoting previous beatings were still
discernible on her skin.

He grinned.

With one easy, powerful
backswing, he brought the length of the scraper smacking across
Sharon’s ass. She screamed as it impacted. The lightweight metal
cut through the air faster than Chris’s heavy strap, and the narrow
hitting surface intensified the pain of the blow.

“Be a brave girl, now!”
Jack laughed as he swung again. This time, he aimed slightly
higher, and the spot he managed to get made Sharon gasp for breath.
Her hands were already pounding. She wailed as he drew his arm back
and began a slow, orderly, excruciatingly thorough beating of her
rear end. He moved the aim of the scraper up and down, careful to
cover every inch, and then began to strike at the backs of her
thighs.

Her screams went up in
scale, and she began to choke on them. There wasn’t enough time
between blows to adequately catch her breath. Desperate to get away
from the steady, burning bites of the tool, she began to twist and
squirm in her bonds.

“Damn you!” she gasped out,
throwing her hip to one side. “Stop! Please! Ow! Stop
it!!”

Jack pushed one arm against
her back and thrust her against the stall to hold her
still.

“Not until you say you’re
sorry, lass!” The blows continued.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she
screamed back.

“Aye? For what?” Jack
laughed again and picked up the tempo. Sharon’s answer (if any) was
taken over by her breathless cries of anguish, that lasted several
seconds after Jack stopped beating her. She gasped for breath, and
sobbed, and then wailed.

“We’re not finished with
you yet, my pretty model,” Jack announced, pulling his hand from
her back. “We’re just finished with this side!” He turned her
around without bothering to adjust her bonds, and she stumbled
against him. Her hands seemed to be two balls of pins and needles.
Before she could even begin to form words, Jack kicked her thighs
apart and pushed her back against the wall.

He reached out with one
hand and took hold of her right nipple. Catching it between his
fingers, he put light pressure on it and then began to smack
heavily at the insides of her thighs with the scraper.

The first time she tried to
pull her legs together, he gave her nipple a vicious twist. “You
should know to be a good girl by now, model,” he said, giving her
an extra hard smack. “You ’old yourself still and open for Jack,
an’ I won’t ’ave to get nasty with you, understand?”

She sniffed and winced, and
yelped when he smacked her again, this one directly over her shaven
pussy lips. “I b’lieve I asked you a question, model. An’ I sure as
’ell didn’t get an answer!”

“Wha?” Sharon opened her
eyes in confusion. Her arms, her ass, her thighs, everything was a
blur of pain. “Yes! Whatever! Yes!”

“Oh, you are a treasure,
model, that you are!” Jack resumed his beating, covering the delta
between her legs with dozens of stinging swats. And despite his
grip on her nipple, she twisted and contorted her body to escape
the blows. Her cries changed both tempo and timbre as genuine pain
replaced shame, shock and discomfort. Finally, she slumped against
the reins, unable to stand against his steady assault.

Instantly, Jack slipped the
scraper back into his pocket and boosted her back onto her feet. He
pushed her against the wall and reached over to untie the rein. She
fell down, her knees buckling, and slid to the floor of the stall,
nestled among the bedding. Flies buzzed, and she cried, unable even
to shoo them away.

“I don’t believe you’re
doing this!” she wailed.

“Y’got off easy this
mornin’,” Jack said, standing over her. “Now listen to me proper.
You’re ’ere to learn the proper care and feedin’ of the denizens o’
this stable. You’ll do as I say, when I say, and ’ow I say, or
you’ll get that, an’ worse. You don’t impress me, model. I’ve ’ad
prettier ones, and nicer ones than you.” He casually opened the top
button of his sturdy jeans and beckoned to her. “Now get over ’ere
and thank me right.”

Sharon flexed her fingers
back and forth to get some life into them and openly gaped at the
stableman. Standing there, cool as could be, his blond hair damp
with sweat and his hands tucked into the sides of his leather
suspenders, he looked like he was showing off a prize calf at a
state fair. She glanced at his waist and registered the open
trouser button, and then looked back up at him. Surely, he couldn’t
mean...?

“Do as you’re told,
girl!”

She sniffed and crawled
forward to him, the straw and sawdust sticking to her sweaty body.
She sneezed heavily and sobbed at the indignity of it all. When she
got to him and pulled herself up, she eyed the bulge in his pants
with nothing but despair. She shook her head and sank back on her
heels.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” she
whimpered. “I just can’t... not here, not like this... I have to
pull myself together, OK?”

Jack stared down at her in
sheer confusion for a moment, and then unhooked his fingers from
his suspenders. With a well practiced move, he tore open the
buttons on his fly and pulled his cock out. It was thick, uncut,
and hard. Grabbing a handful of her hair, he jerked her up between
his legs and shoved it violently into her mouth.

She gasped as the fleshy
intrusion passed her lips and slammed against the back of her
throat. A sound like a strangled, muffled scream came from her, and
tears sprang from her eyes as she choked and gagged. Jack pulled
her head back, away from his cock.

“Y’don’t use that word with
me, model. There isn’t a damn bloody thing you can’t do! You do as
you’re told, an’ you do it good!” She gasped for breath as he aimed
and thrust forward again. His sweat was sweetly salty, the smell of
him was of old leather and horses. He filled her mouth and drew
back, dragging her spit out, making her drool down her
chin.

Sharon’s inarticulate cries
continued as Jack began to methodically rape her mouth. She wanted
it, oh, she wanted it so bad! But not like this! His relentlessly
calm motions dragged her back and forth, making her choke on him
over and over again, until he pulled her head back in
disgust.

“You ’aven’t got the
sucking talent God gave a mosquito,” he said. “Do it right, will
you? Get in there, before I lose it.”

Sharon stared up at him and
her mouth gaped open in disbelief. “No!” she shrieked, pulling
back. “Leave me alone! I don’t want to!”

Jack leaned forward and
laughed at her. “Still with th’ mouth?” With a smile still on his
face, he calmly drew his hand back and cuffed her across her full
lips. Then, as she fell over and tried to get away from him by
crawling through the straw, he followed her. Her panicked movements
and her lack of direction got her into the far corner in moments,
and Jack stood in front of her. As he reached down for her, she
screamed.

“What the hell is going on
here?”

Jack turned toward Grendel
and stood up straight. He ducked his head in a brief nod before
speaking.

“Sorry to bother you, Mr.
Elliot. New fluff’s actin’ up a bit, but she’ll come
along.”

Grendel looked down at
Sharon. She was a pitiful sight. Sweaty, dusty, and covered with
small scratches and smudgy marks, she crouched in the corner of the
stall, her hair a tangled mess around her shoulders. She was out of
breath, gulping air in between sobs.

“What’s the problem?”
Grendel asked, leaning one elbow against the partition.

“She’s got a bit o’ spunk
in ’er, that’s all,” Jack grinned. He casually tucked his cock back
into his heavy jeans. “Or not enough, maybe.” He laughed at his own
joke.

“Spunk, Sharon, hardly
becomes a pleasure slave,” Grendel sighed. “Don’t put that away
yet, Jack, keep it busy. Sharon wants to take care of you. Don’t
you Sharon?”

As Jack took hold of his
cock and began to work it back into a full erection, the young
woman raised her head to look at the master of the house and
sneezed. “I can’t,” she whimpered. “I... it’s too dirty. Can’t we
go somewhere else?”

“Get on your knees in front
of Jack right now.” His voice was low, but the note of command was
unmistakable.

Sharon shivered in disgust,
but quickly picked her way through the straw to the spot Grendel
had indicated. Jack’s hand was still stroking his cock, pulling the
foreskin back with every stroke and cupping his rough fingers
around the head.

“Now, lean forward and let
him feel your breath on his cock. No, don’t grab him! I didn‘t tell
you to do anything with your hands. Keep them down! Just listen and
do exactly what I tell you.” Grendel remained standing by the stall
gate, his body casually leaning against it. But his voice was clear
and hard.

Sharon followed his orders,
Jack’s cock bobbing directly in front of her mouth.

“How does it
feel?”

“Oh, not too bad, Mr.
Elliot, not too bad. She’s not got the talent I bet the boy does,
though.” The stableman’s hand never stopped. A drop of glistening
fluid appeared at the tip of his cock and he quickly wiped it
across Sharon’s cheek.

“You’re probably right,”
Grendel admitted. “I’ll let you have some time with him and you can
give me a report. Sharon, now move forward and gently lick around
the head. Just the ridge, and just your tongue.”

Sharon moved forward with
an open mouth, but Jack caught her and tapped the sensuously shaped
ridge defining the head of his cock. “Just around ’ere,
girl.”

She flicked her tongue out
and began licking.

“You’re like magic for the
girl, Mr. Elliot, that’s f’sure!”

“That’s because she knows
she’s always ten minutes away from a train station, Jack. In the
future, if she ever gives you a really hard time, just send her to
Chris and he’ll pack her up.”

Sharon moaned, even as she
licked. She heard a familiar crackling, tearing sound.

“Here, Jack.
Catch.”

Jack reached up and easily
caught the foil package Grendel had pulled out of his pocket.
“What’s your pleasure then, Mr. Elliot? Y’want her to finish me off
like this, then?”

“No. She claims she’s a
great fuck, so why don’t you investigate? But first, let’s see if
that mouth has any practical use at all.”

“Take this, model,” Jack
said, passing the condom down. “Get it on my ol’ cock like a good
backstreet whore does. Slip it right on with them pretty lips, an’
make it nice an’ slow.”

Sharon tore the little
package open with trembling hands. Was it possible that only an
hour ago, her hands had been soft and clean, her nails glistening
and shining? She produced the safe and placed it on the head of
Jack’s cock. He immediately cuffed her again, and she
yelped.

“With your mouth, girl! Do
you not hear me?”

Frantically, she pushed the
condom between her lips and then spent a hellishly long minute
struggling to get it over his pulled-back foreskin and then down
the length of the shaft. By the time she was finished, her lips
felt bruised and swollen. And still, there was more.

She was pushed onto her
hands and knees, her face pressed close to the stall floor, while
Jack casually knelt behind her. While Grendel watched, a vaguely
bored look on his face, Jack entered the kneeling woman in one
strong thrust, his powerful hands wrapped around her upper
thighs.

Sharon reared up at his
entry! Her back arched, and she yowled like a cat in heat. She was
open and wet with excitement, despite her horrible circumstances,
and Jack chuckled as he slipped all the way in.

“Oh, she’s a ripe ’un, Mr.
Elliot,” he grunted, pulling out to thrust back in again. “For all
’er words and tears, she’s randy as a bitch.”

“But is she
good?”

Jack pressed himself deep
into the woman and shifted his hips comfortably. “Not bad, not
bad.”

“Good. Let me know if she
improves by Thursday. I may want to take Skipper out later. You’ll
see he’s ready, won’t you?”

“Oh, yessir, Mr. Elliot.
See you later, then!”

While the men exchanged
words, Sharon cradled her head in her arms and emitted a steady,
breathless stream of moans. Jack never missed a stroke as he
casually chatted with Grendel. But as soon as the master left, Jack
pressed in hard and fast, and gripped Sharon tightly against
him.