The Wench

"Your wench managed to dodge nine of them, the tenth gave her the black eye. She also managed to complete the inspection without overflowing her drool-catcher. It's a pity she hasn't got bigger tits but I can't fail her for that. However, I almost failed her when her butt plug fell out of her after seventeen miles. It's too small for her you see. Her sphincter has been stretched by it, haven't you noticed that it's not as tight on your cock as it used to be?"

I had noticed actually but, as my cock is long and thick, a slacker-than-average sphincter is not a big problem for me.

"Anyway," he continued, "I replaced her butt plug with larger one and attached her ponytail to it."

"How much is that going to cost me?"

"Twenty. Call it fifteen if I can keep the old one."

I gave him fifteen. He'd probably sell the old butt plug to some sucker for twenty.

"I gave her six strokes of the cane across her butt to remind her to keep it clenched," he said.

"Thanks," I said.

"About those tiny tits," the guy said, "I have friend who is a plastic surgeon. He could give her a pair of melons on a Friday evening and, if you rest her over the weekend, she'll be road fit by Monday morning, so long as she doesn't go any faster than a trot for a few days. Here's his card."

"Thanks." I took the card. "I'll think about it."

"One more thing," said the guy, "your wench has done a lot more miles than usual today and she still has many miles to go. Make sure she has an early night tonight or she won't be fit for road work tomorrow morning. She's used up an awful lot of energy today so maybe throw a handful of raisins into her milky oatmeal tonight."

"Okay, I will."

I knew there was no meal waiting for me at home so I drove my two-wheeler to a fast food place and bought a Super Deluxe Banquet for myself and some milky oatmeal with raisins for my wench. I also told the fast food guy to throw in a scoop of strawberry preserve for her.

My wench crawled under the table and gave me a blowjob while I ate my Super Deluxe Banquet and, after I had finished my meal, I came in her mouth and she swallowed.

I put her milky oatmeal with raisins and strawberry preserve into a bowl and placed it on the floor in front of my couch. My wench got down on all fours and she put a cushion on her back so I could use her as a footstool as she ate, and I drank a glass of beer and read a book by the light of an oil lamp.

I noticed that I had forgotten to remove her ponytail butt plug and I was struck by a brilliant idea.

If I could make a butt plug with a small circular tray attached to it (it would look a bit like a small frying pan with an obscenely shaped handle) I would have somewhere to put my beer glass between sips. I could patent the idea and make a fortune.

There must be thousands of guys, all over this land, resting their feet on cushions on the backs of their wenches and wishing they had a convenient place to rest their beer glass between swallows.

Every guy who has ever owned a wench knows that at the top of her ponytail there is a triangular wooden peg that slides in to an appropriately shaped recess at the base of the butt plug, just above the fart hole. If I could take the triangular peg from an old ponytail and glue it or screw it (or both) to the side of a small, shallow, flat-bottomed, wooden bowl, it could be clipped on to the butt plug of any wench, on all fours, serving her owner as both footstool and beer stand.

I would make a prototype. No, I would order my wench to make a prototype.

Maybe I could make enough money from my invention to buy a couple of big-titted, big-butted, pretty-faced transport wenches and a sedan chair. Not to take me to work of course, I'd be so rich I wouldn't need to work. I'd just have them carry me around town all day and I'd be thinking: "Look at me, I'm so rich I've got two big-titted transport wenches and a sedan chair, and you haven't."

Maybe I would sell my old transport wench to the bus company or maybe I would buy her a pair of big tits and keep her as a house wench. After all, she is very good at blowjobs, she's quite pretty and very obedient, she's a good cook and her very slack sphincter is just the right fit for my long fat cock.

My wench is so obedient that I never have to punish her more than once, or maybe twice, a week and then I usually only ever give her a dozen strokes of my cane on her butt.

When I go out to my out-house for a shit I always take my wench with me. She kneels on the stone floor and sucks my cock while I am shitting. When I have finished shitting, and after I have come in her mouth and she has swallowed, she cleans my butt hole with toilet paper.

One day last week, when it was time for her to clean my butt hole after I'd had a shit, I discovered that she had forgotten to include toilet paper on my shopping list and I had none.

I made her clean my butt hole with her tongue and took her back into the house for her punishment. With her legs straight and wide apart, she bent over double and grasped her ankles.

This position ensures that her hairless pussy lips protrude between her thighs and are as vulnerable to the cane as her butt cheeks. I had given her several vigorous strokes on her butt and pussy when I was interrupted by a knock on the door. I told my wench to straighten up and to see who it was.

It was the wench belonging to the guy who lives next door. Like me he is poor and can only afford one wench. The next door wench passed a note to my wench and she passed it to me. I read it.

Apparently, the guy next door had been in the middle of caning his wench's butt when his cane had snapped. Did I have a spare cane I could loan to him so that that he could finish the job?

I did have a spare cane. I sent my wench to find it and to give it to the next door wench. When the next door wench had gone my wench resumed her position, grasping her ankles.

Could I remember how many strokes I had already given her on her butt and on her pussy? I could not. It could have been seven, or eight, or maybe nine.

I tried counting the red stripes on my wench's butt and pussy but I'd had a few beers and they all sort of merged together. I had no choice but to start again from stroke number one. I wondered if the guy next door had had the same problem.

Forgetting my toilet paper was too serious a misdemeanour to be punished by just twelve strokes of the cane so, the next morning, I set off for work fifteen minutes earlier than usual. My journey to work takes me along a narrow cobbled lane where I'd noticed a large clump of vicious stinging nettles growing next to a stone wall.

I stopped my two-wheeler at this point and unhitched my wench. I told her to remove her butt plug and to bend over, legs apart, and to brace herself against the stone wall with her little tits deep amongst the nettles. I inserted my cock balls-deep into her butt hole and had a most enjoyable ten minutes thrusting happily, sliding my long, fat cock in and out of her delightfully slack sphincter.

My wench's tits may be on the small side but they still bounced nicely amongst the nettles with every thrust of my cock. After I had come inside her I removed my cock from her butt and I noticed there were shit streaks on it. The red stripes from the previous day's caning were still visible so I just gave her cute, round butt six lashes with my whip to make sure she had learned her lesson. The whipping made her tits bounce wildly amongst those aggressive stinging nettles.

I told her to straighten up and to reinsert her butt plug and to remove her ball-gag so that she could lick her shit off my cock while I sat in the seat of the two-wheeler. By the time she had licked my cock clean it was hard again so I told her to suck it. My wench is very good at giving blowjobs just the way I like them and she knows how to make them last to prolong my pleasure.

Unfortunately, my blowjob took so long I was in danger of being late for work. I ordered my wench to quickly harness herself between the shafts of the two-wheeler and I was obliged apply my whip vigorously to her butt to urge her to a headlong gallop and I covered the last four miles at a breakneck speed. I was a good job a speed cop didn't see me. Speed cops drive three-wench two-wheelers and their fifty inch racing wheels make them the fastest vehicles on the road.

The wenches who pull the speed cops' carts wear bag-gags with discrete air holes to maintain their oxygen supply during high-speed chases and their butt plugs a made from balsa wood for lightness.

Their leather sandals have three inch thick soles to increase their stride length and the speed cop wenches' have surgically enhanced, conical tits and streamlined ponytails, top and bottom, to improve their aerodynamic efficiency.

All three of the speed cop wenches harnessed to a cop cart are matched in appearance, as far as is possible, and the ponytails on their heads and in their butts are dyed Constabulary Blue. All three of their left nipple rings are tightly linked by fine chains, and so are their right nipple rings.

The speed cops two-wheeler has two shafts at the front, just like mine, but unlike mine it also has a crossbar at the ends of them. The three speed cop wenches stand behind the crossbar holding it, one between the shafts and one either side of her.

The cop driving the cart has his left rein connected to the left nipple ring of the wench on the left, and his right rein connected to the right nipple ring of the wench on the right. SPEED is tattooed in large blue letters on the wenches' right tits and COPS in large blue letters on their left tits.

If the speed cop wants his wenches to accelerate from a trot to a canter or from a canter to a gallop he gives their butts a taste of his whip, lashing all six butt cheeks with a single horizontal stroke.

If he wants to travel even faster, in a high speed pursuit for instance, he has a trick up his sleeve. Each of the three speed cop wenches has a catheter needle inserted into her clitoris. The needle is connected to a slender, flexible tube which passes between her legs, through a ring attached to her butt plug and back to the cart where all three tubes are connected to an ingenious contraption.

If the cop wants more speed from his wenches he pulls a small lever and the rotating wheels of the cart engage with a pump which forces a powerful narcotic along the tubes, into each wench's clitoris and into her bloodstream. The effect is an immediate and long-lasting orgasm and the faster she runs the faster the wheels will turn and the faster the pump will force the narcotic into her clitoris and the more intense will her orgasm become.

It takes the cops weeks to train their wenches to run at speed whilst having a mind-blowing orgasm, but it's worth it.

When the cop wants to stop he just pushes the lever back into place and his wenches' orgasms stop as suddenly as they began.

I arrived at work with just minutes to spare. My wench was red in the face and sweating profusely, her breathing was very laboured and her chest was rising and falling rapidly, which made her little tits bounce very prettily. Her drool-catcher was full and had overflowed all over her tits.

I told her to empty her drool-catcher before she took the two-wheeler home. It started to rain quite heavily so told her to put the hood up on the two-wheeler to keep my seat dry. I hoped it would continue to rain for the whole of her seven mile trot back to my place so that the rain would wash the drool from her tits.

After the conversation I'd had with that bastard Jackson today, it occurs to me that the guy next door might like to come around to my house and have a few beers with me while we watch my wench and his wench sucking each other's clits.

After a half an hour or so, our wenches could give us both blowjobs and we could have a few more beers while we watched them, still with our come in their mouths, rimming each other's butt holes with their tongues and playing with each other's tits. Maybe I'll ask him.

I wish my wench had bigger tits.

I am a creature of habit and I usually have my last blowjob of the day at the stroke of midnight, but I remembered what the guy at the Testing Station had said about my wench: "Make sure she has an early night tonight or she won't be fit for road work tomorrow morning." I could survive without my midnight blowjob for one night.

At eleven o'clock I removed my feet from my wench's back and I said to her, "Take out your butt plug, go to the out-house, have a shit and a piss, scrub your teeth, comb your hair, shave your pits and pubes, sluice yourself down with a bucket of water, towel yourself dry and curl up in your basket and get some rest."

I spent the next hour lounging in my robe, drinking beer and drawing sketches of my beer-tray-butt-plug invention and fantasising about how I would spend my millions. My wench was curled up in her basket in the corner of the room.

When my big old grandfather clock struck midnight, my wench crawled out of her basket and knelt down in front of me and opened my robe and kissed my cock.

My wench and I have never been big on conversation, probably because when we are together she usually has a ball-gag or my cock in her mouth, but I said to her, "You'd rather suck my cock than get some sleep after an exhausting day?"

She nodded.

"But why?"

Just before her lovely, warm, sweet, gentle mouth with its mischievously wicked tongue engulfed my rock-hard, long, fat cock she smiled sweetly and said, "Because I love you."