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Spring Break Slaves

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Since you had a pair go back I figured the experience would not be too bad, so was unprepared for the resulting brutality.
A brief glance at so-called "reality TV" will show that people will put up with a LOT for the right sum of money. I hear there was a show where people fought to work as "apprentices" for a very nasty man who constantly abused and belittled them. Hopefully he has been shunned and expelled from society for his behavior...

I assume that Pam and Tania were paid at the high end of the scale and, at least so far, seem to have escaped punishment on their return trip.

But a good read, one of those when the brain goes: "Oh good, another episode!"
Thanks, OS. There are certainly many possible directions the story could go. We shall have to see...
 
Again a wonderful hot story, windar! Excellent! Thanks! And ...

How Kelly got to where she is today is a whole other story
;)

... I count on you and maybe Barb. ;)

PS, think about a little bit of crucifixion.
 
Dear CF girls (or women as the case may be): It's that time of year again. Time to get away from the dreary end of winter blues and enjoy some exotic travel. How about the Great Wall of China? Definitely worth visiting, but this may not be the best time. A cruise around Southeast Asia? Sure, if a floating hospital is what you're looking for. The Canary Islands? Lovely, but being quarantined in your hotel isn't fun. Italy, maybe a villa in Tuscany? Sure, some time later.

Man, this corona virus (or carona virus, if you're one of those very stable geniuses) has sure screwed up a lot of people's travel plans. But there is one place that is certified virus free, with its own resident doctor and well-equipped clinic. People don't come and go so freely, so you can feel safe there. Access is by private plane and helicopter, so no hanging around germ-filled airports. The beaches are beautiful and the water is fine.

Yes, ladies, in this time of global fear and danger, there is one place to be-Pirate Cay! Healthy outdoor sports and free entertainment every evening. So come on down!!
 
Dear CF girls (or women as the case may be): It's that time of year again. Time to get away from the dreary end of winter blues and enjoy some exotic travel. How about the Great Wall of China? Definitely worth visiting, but this may not be the best time. A cruise around Southeast Asia? Sure, if a floating hospital is what you're looking for. The Canary Islands? Lovely, but being quarantined in your hotel isn't fun. Italy, maybe a villa in Tuscany? Sure, some time later.

Man, this corona virus (or carona virus, if you're one of those very stable geniuses) has sure screwed up a lot of people's travel plans. But there is one place that is certified virus free, with its own resident doctor and well-equipped clinic. People don't come and go so freely, so you can feel safe there. Access is by private plane and helicopter, so no hanging around germ-filled airports. The beaches are beautiful and the water is fine.

Yes, ladies, in this time of global fear and danger, there is one place to be-Pirate Cay! Healthy outdoor sports and free entertainment every evening. So come on down!!
Or - do your bit for Ecological science - Antarctic research station?
 
Since pretty much every college and university has announced the cancellation of in person classes for the rest of the semester, the girls can stay on Pirate Cay until at least September. :D:firedevil:

And Dean Windar will be free to travel down there to check personally on their wellbeing? :rolleyes:
 
Once again learned something new on CF :)
But for a German the word has something. Another word for "shit" in German is "Kacke" :)
I've been re-reading this story and came upon this comment, which struck me about the close connection between German and English. In English, rich language that it is, there are many words for shit, one of which is "caca." But then, trying to be thorough about so important a subject, I checked Google, and discovered that "caca" is used informally for "shit," in many languages, and not just in the Germanic family, but in Romance languages as well. So it joins words like "fuck" and "okay" in worldwide distribution. In this holiday season, it makes me think, as in the German drinking song:

Alle Menschen werden Brudern (und Sistern, naturlich.)
 
It goes back to the West-Central branch of Indo-European: verbs include Latin caco, Greek kakkao (and the adjective kakos, simply 'bad'), Irish cacaim, Russian and Czech kakati, etc.; Armenian noun k'akor. It probably originated as a baby form, 'kaka', of other IE words for shit, dung beginning with 'k-'.
 
It goes back to the West-Central branch of Indo-European: verbs include Latin caco, Greek kakkao (and the adjective kakos, simply 'bad'), Irish cacaim, Russian and Czech kakati, etc.; Armenian noun k'akor. It probably originated as a baby form, 'kaka', of other IE words for shit, dung beginning with 'k-'.
You are right and in German there is also a similar word "Kacke", which also means shit.
 
CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The cart each team would pull was called a sulky. Normally, they were used in harness racing, pulled by horses limited to a trotting pace. Here, they would be pulled by female slaves who would be hard-pressed to exceed a walk. They consisted of a seat mounted on two large wheels, with two parallel wooden poles extending horizontally from the front. The ones to be used in the race had been modified by the attachment of a crossbar towards the front of the poles, which the women would push on to move the cart.

Sulky could also describe the demeanor of the girls who were forced to compete in this race. They sat on the grass, baking in the hot sun, looking scared at the prospect that one pair of them would be whipped. That is, with the exception of Tania and Pam, who were confident that not only would they avoid the flogging due the last place team, but that they would walk away $5,000 richer.

The four sulkies were lined up on the grass, just ahead of a large expanse of crushed stone that stretched behind the house, with a path leading from the back end towards the jungle that made up the interior of the island. The guests stood under the shade of a large tree, where a bar had been set up, staffed by a couple of locals.

Tara noticed several familiar faces-including the two who had purchased her last night and the “Principal”. She also saw the large form of the Prime Minister, Sir Frederick Bascome, who had not been present the previous night, but had come specially for this event.

Their employer called the proceedings to order. “Gentlemen, it’s my honor and privilege to welcome you to the first annual Pirate Cay Personal Companion Pony Girl Race. The rules are simple, first team to the finish line wins and will share a prize of $ 10,000. As an added inducement to the ponies to put forth a serious effort, the last place team will be whipped, two dozen lashes each. Any team that doesn’t complete the race will get three dozen lashes.” There was a chorus of cheers when he announced the whipping punishment.

“Bets can be placed at the table over here,” he added, pointing at a table set up next to where he was standing, manned by Kelly. “But, of course, before you place your bets, I’m sure you want to examine the ponies.” More cheers went up. “So, ladies, come on over.”

The women got slowly to their feet and walked over. It felt good to be out of the hot sun for the moment, even though the prospect of the race was not a pleasant one. They were formed into their teams, poked and prodded by the men feeling the muscles in their legs and backs.

“So who are the jockeys?” an older balding man asked.

“An excellent question,” he replied. “Even the best horses need a good jockey. After some consideration, I’ve chosen the following from among you. Team 1, Pam and Tania, will be ridden by Peter.” The dark haired man who had bought Tara the previous night came forward and stood between his two ponies. At least Tara knew his name now.

“Team 2, Gina and May, will be ridden by Jim.” An older, balding man of medium build stepped between the two of them. “Team 3, Amanda and Stephanie, will be ridden by Frank,” he continued, indicating a trim older man with a full head of white hair.

“And, last, but not least, Team 4, Tara and Delia, will be under the control of our esteemed guest, the Prime Minister of this great country, Sir Frederick Bascome.” Tara’s jaw dropped in shock. Big Fred weighed at least a hundred pounds more than any of the other men. Jockeys were supposed to be thin little guys, not big fat whales! How would she and Delia ever pull him?

“But, sir,” Tara complained, “That’s not fair. He’s so, so,” she wanted to say “fat” but thought the better of it, “muscular, sir”.

He got up and stroked Tara’s hair. “Tara, my dear, it’s because Sir Fred really enjoyed your company, you and Delia, that he asked for you. So it’s an honor. I’d advise you to smile and be nice to the PM.”

Meanwhile, Sir Fred, ever the politician, came forward, shaking hands with everyone in the crowd smiling and joking as he made his way to stand between Tara and Delia, reaching down to pinch their asses as he took his place. “Ladies, it’s wonderful to see you again. I had such a good time with you riding me that I asked him to please let me ride the race with you guys as a special favor and he agreed. We’re going to leave those other girls in the dust, aren’t we?”

Tara just looked down at the ground. What could she do? Ponies didn’t get to choose their jockey.

“So now that you have the card for today’s race in front of you, you may place your bets,” he announced. The betting table had an electronic board that flashed the odds in big red numbers. It quickly became obvious that Team 1, Tania and Pam, were heavy favorites and that Tara and Delia were the longshots at 25-1. After all, you didn’t need a racing form to see that Sir Fred was going to be a tough load for them to pull.

Once the betting action had died down, he said, “Let’s get our ponies in harness and get this race underway.” Everyone moved to where the sulkies were lined up. The carts were numbered one through four. “Ok, girls let’s get those clothes off and get into your harness.”

Stephanie looked at him a bit askance. “Sir, did you say clothes off?”

“Horses don’t wear clothes!” someone in the crowd yelled.

“Indeed they don’t,” he said. “Come on now, we all saw all of you naked, last night. You’re among intimate friends here.” The other women were already stripping, so Stephanie submitted and began taking her clothes off as well.

Gina had kicked one sandal off and was looking at the crushed stones that they would have to pass through.. “Sir, please, can we keep our shoes on? Those stones are sharp and hot from the sun. Horses wear shoes, after all.”

“Gentlemen, what say you?” he asked. “Should they wear shoes?’

There was a chorus of boos. “No shoes for these sluts!” someone yelled.

The women looked around hoping, against experience, that someone would come to their rescue. Of course, no one did. “I’m afraid the crowd has spoken,” he said. They slipped their sandals off.

“I hope you’re going to take our shackles off, at least,” May whined. “How are we supposed to run in them?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to figure that out,” he replied. “You guys are supposed to be the cream of the academic crop, aren’t you?”

“Well, they certainly got plenty of cream last night,” one of the spectators yelled, to roars of laughter and high fives from those around him.

“Alright,” their host announced. “Enough complaints. Let’s hitch up these ponies and get this race underway.”

The Prime Minister took hold of an arm of each of his ponies and led them to sulky number four. “Step between the poles, girls, and grab onto the crossbar” he ordered. Delia and Tara climbed over the poles, almost tripping in their shackles and bent down to grab onto the crossbar, lifting it up to chest height.

Now that they were up close, they noticed that there were two short chains attached to the crossbar. Sir Frederick attached the end of the chain to each of their collars, securing them with small padlocks. Tara and Delia were truly harnessed now, hitched to a cart like animals.

Tara felt a pressure on the crossbar to which she was attached. Looking behind her, she saw the PM trying to maneuver his considerable bulk onto the seat, which was designed for the typical jockey half his weight or less. ‘Maybe, he won’t be able to get on it and they’ll have to give us another rider,’ she thought, hopefully. However, with the help of a couple of the spectators, Big Fred finally got himself seated, even though large parts of him were hanging over the edge of the seat.

“Only one more thing, and then we’re ready to go. What do jockeys have to spur on their ponies?” he asked.

“Whips!” several voices called out.

“Indeed!” he replied. “Kelly, would make sure the jockeys are properly equipped?” There was a canvas bag under the table where Kelly sat. She extracted four whips, each several feet long, long enough for the jockey to reach the backs of his ponies. She passed one to each of the riders.

Now that all was ready, he stood at the starting line with a small pistol in his hand. “On your marks, get set,” he called, then there was loud bang. Tania and Pam’s cart immediately moved forward at a good pace onto the crushed stone. Carts 2 and 3 lurched a bit, then began creakily moving forward, stopping and starting, especially once the ponies reached the crushed stone, but at least making fitful progress.

Tara pushed against the crossbar, but she didn’t feel the cart move. She could see Delia pushing hard as well. They were both sweating already in the hot sun, yet they hadn’t budged.

“Ladies, why aren’t we moving?” Big Fred asked. “Look, the others are all underway.”

“Sir, we’re pushing as hard as we can,” Delia protested.

“Perhaps you need some inducement,” he said, raising the whip and slashing it onto Delia’s back.

“Oww!” she yelped.

Tara saw a thin red line cross her friend’s upper back. Then she heard the whip whistle again and felt a line of fire on her own back. “Fuck!” she yelled, stamping her feet to the extent the shackles would allow.

“Come on you cunts, move your asses!” one of the spectators yelled.

“That’s it, Big Fred, don’t let those lazy sluts goof off!” another one added.

“On the count of three, Delia,” Tara said between clenched teeth. “One, two, three.” They both pushed with all their might, leaning their whole weight in. The cart lurched forward onto the crushed stone. Tara felt the sharp stones digging into the tender soles of her feet. She had to hop from foot in response to the pain. She could see Delia doing the same. As a result, the cart came to a halt.

“Oh, god! My feet!” Tara shouted.

“Fucking stones! They’re killing me!” Delia cried.

“What’s the matter with these lazy bitches?” someone yelled.

“Yeah, I took a flyer on them at 25-1, but, goddamn, they’re worthless!” another shouted.

Tara’s entire body was coated in sweat, the fluid seemingly coming out of pores she didn’t even know she had. Her eyes were burning such that she could barely see. She wiped her face with her arm and stared ahead. Tania and Pam had disappeared into the trees, on their way to a payday.

The other two teams were nearing the end of the crushed stone, where the route became a dirt path which would certainly be less painful to walk on. Tara could hope for some relief once they made it there, but at the current pace that would take forever.

The Prime Minister turned to look at the spectators. “I must apologize for their performance. I know I’m a bit heavy. I’ve tried to lose weight, but whenever I lose a few pounds, there’s another campaign. I go to all the events and there’s always food and it would be rude not to have some, wouldn’t it?”

He turned back to his two ponies and cracked the whip low across Tara’s ass. “Oh, fuuuck!” she shouted. “Push, Dee, now!” she yelled. They both leant with their whole body and the sulky creaked ahead.

Tara’s feet were in agony. She didn’t dare look to see if they were bleeding, but they certainly felt like they were. Her back and ass were burning from the whip. And every muscle ached from the strain of moving the combined weight of the cart and the Prime Minister. The only thing that kept her going was the prospect of getting off these cursed stones and onto soft dirt.

They kept pushing, making slow progress. Every so often, a small group of the spectators would leave the shade and the open bar and walk out to harass them, telling them how worthless they were and how they were going to enjoy watching their floggings.

Finally, they made it to the dirt track. It still took an incredible effort to push the cart over the uneven ground with the terrain was sloping gently upwards, but at least the stones were no longer cutting into their soles. Up ahead, not too far, was the forest, where they would at least not have to contend with the sun beating down on them. Tara’s mouth was desperately dry, but no one offered her water.

Tara knew the race was hopeless. They couldn’t even see the next slowest team. Still, she wanted to finish, both because not finishing would mean three dozen lashes instead of two and if they hurt anything like the ones that Big Fred had doled out to get them moving, that would be hell, but also because she really wanted to prove to everyone that she wasn’t as worthless as they said.

But, she was exhausted and Delia was exhausted. Each step was harder than the last, on aching feet, pushing with muscles crying out for a rest. The final touch was the sight of Pam and Tania loping serenely down the trail towards them with their jockey, naked Amazons emerging victorious from the forest. “Well, if it isn’t the two losers,” Pam said. “The other two teams were almost at the finish line when we left.”

That did it for Delia. She let go of the crossbar, turned to Tara and said, “That’s it, I quit.”

‘Well,’ Tara thought, ‘They’d come this far together and it was more or less her doing that they were here, since Delia had expressed her doubts and she’d convinced her to come.’ Besides, the two of them could barely move the sulky, so she could hardly do it alone. “Me too, I’m done,” she announced.

Tara let go of the crossbar as well. The front end of the poles swung down towards the ground, taking the two ponies down with it. Big Fred, lashed them a couple of times, hitting their thighs and stomachs as they lay there exhausted, but he could tell it was useless. He shook his head. “I guess there’s no point flogging dead ponies,” he said.

It took a while, but soon their employer showed up along with several of the spectators and Kelly. “I’m disappointed in both of you,” he said. “But we’ll straighten this out later.” He unlocked the padlocks that attached their collars to the crossbar. “Take these two to the clinic,” he ordered.

Kelly looked at them with disgust. “On your feet you two worthless whores,” she ordered. They got slowly to their feet and limped after her.
I think the girls have a case! This race surely should have been handicapped! I happen to know a great deal about handicapping races (having skimmed a Google entry on the subject) and I think the other ponies should have been assessed weights to carry to even things out. And of course, with ponygirls, that weight would not be added to the saddle blankets, but to the nipples.

ponygirl sybil hawthorne.jpg
 
I checked Google, and discovered that "caca" is used informally for "shit," in many languages, and not just in the Germanic family, but in Romance languages as well.
Certainly, it's used that way in Spanish. I don't know about Portuguese, but there was a Brazilian soccer player named Kaka (a nickname like most Brazilian soccer players). Interestingly he was pretty good. In Yiddish, alte kaker, literally "old shitter" is an affectionate term for a senior gentleman (not thinking of anyone in particular).

I think the girls have a case! This race surely should have been handicapped!
Sore losing seems to be going around these days :rolleyes:
 
Well, it's been a while since we left our two poor students, Tara and Delia, to their appointed tasks as "Companions" to a mysterious billionaire on his private Caribbean island, Pirate Cay. Well, one of their classmates back at Pitcher College (initials BM) has noticed that they didn't return from Spring Break and wonders what happened to them and decides to investigate. She is very young and innocent (this is FICTION, remember) and is in for quite some surprises. Coming soon to a Cruxforums near you!

In case you missed the first story in this series, you might want to catch up with it above...
 
Well, it's been a while since we left our two poor students, Tara and Delia, to their appointed tasks as "Companions" to a mysterious billionaire on his private Caribbean island, Pirate Cay. Well, one of their classmates back at Pitcher College (initials BM) has noticed that they didn't return from Spring Break and wonders what happened to them and decides to investigate. She is very young and innocent (this is FICTION, remember) and is in for quite some surprises. Coming soon to a Cruxforums near you!

In case you missed the first story in this series, you might want to catch up with it above...
Great!! can't wait
 
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