The Whip Or The Vibrator Ch. 12

Introduction: This story is inspired by and in tribute to some of the women of this site who go in for the edgier and more extreme kinks and fetishes. I hope they appreciate it.

Brief Recap: After a year of soul searching and ever riskier escapades of deviant sexuality, CapCunt and Kit-5 have both arrived at the same place: San Francisco Airport, their gateway to Duke & Sado-Chick's Ranch. But they hadn't expected PonyTail, a new young addition who was ass-fucked in the back of the van lying between the cuffed and gagged CapCunt and Kit-5. They also hadn't expected to be branded.

Chapter Twelve

The branding signified the end of our second stay at the ranch. The next morning, Kit-5, PonyTail and I were herded out of our cages for our usual morning ritual of pissing, shitting, hosing off, hydration and food. We were then herded out to the van for the drive back to the airport. The fresh branding marks on the asses and breasts of Kit-5 and myself still stung from the night before, although they would have been worse without the salving creams rubbed in that morning.

Sado-Chick lined us up on our knees in the dirt by the van. Duke used our mouths to warm up his cock, and then picked me to take in the ass in the dirt. We were then chained and gagged on the mattress in the back of the van for the long uncomfortable drive back to SFO. I didn't even have the dignity of being cleaned off first. PonyTail was in the middle again, sandwiched tightly between Kit-5 and I. This time we all held it for the duration of the drive, so none of us had the further indignity of lying in a pool of piss. The taste of Duke's cock lingered in my mouth, after I'd cleaned it when he'd cum in my ass.

Once Duke had parked in the parking garage, he picked PonyTail for one last parting shot, and took her in the ass back there on the mattress. Neither PonyTail nor I had been allowed to cum. I guess since Kit-5 had been left out of the fucking, he reached over to finger her while he lay on PonyTail's body, after he'd cum in her ass. So she alone got to cum. I could see Sado-Chick filming it on her phone as Duke fingered Kit-5 to an orgasm. I'm sure this gave Kit-5 a rosier outlook than the rest of us for the day.

After Duke was done, Sado-Chick came in back, and rubbed some more salve into our branding marks while Duke cleaned himself up. We were then unbound and dressed, and let out of the van. We all stood in a row and watched as Duke and Sado-Chick drove off. Then we looked at each other. This was the first time PonyTail had ever seen Kit-5 and I with any clothes on. We looked pretty disheveled otherwise. PonyTail fell into line as Kit-5 and I started back to the terminal. In a replay of last year, we walked together in silence. PonyTail and I still had Duke's drying cum in our asses, and the taste of cleaning him off in our mouths.

We made a beeline for the first bathroom we could find. The sound of a torrent of piss that had been held all morning being released reverberated from three stalls in a row. We freshened up after that as much as we could. As we primped in the mirrors side-by-side, women came and went, until it was only the three of us at one point. Kit-5 was in the middle. She undid the top buttons of her blouse, and pulled her bra back to look at the brand on her breast. The three of us stared at it. Then I did the same, and we examined our brands. This was the first time we'd gotten a good look at them in the mirror. I wondered what was going through PonyTail's mind, staring at our brands like this.

We retrieved our carry-ons, and sat down together to wait in silence for our flights. PonyTail's was the first. When she heard the call, she rose, and looked at us, as if expecting something, some kind of goodbye. But we said nothing, so she turned to walk off. But after she'd taken a few steps, Kit-5 got up and went to her. She put her hand on PonyTail's shoulder. PonyTail turned, and Kit-5 pulled her into a hug. It turned into a deep, deep hug. I could see PonyTail releasing everything about her past week in that hug, and Kit-5 was there for it all. I got up as well, and PonyTail transferred her hug to me. She held me tight, and I brushed her hair with some affection. As we hugged, I thought to myself that they were both close to my daughter's ages. The thought would linger with me for quite awhile. When I released PonyTail, she had tears in her eyes. As she brushed them away, Kit-5 got out a slip of paper, wrote something on it, and handed it to PonyTail. It was her phone number, email address, and F*t profile name. Kit-5 offered me a slip of paper, and I did the same. PonyTail graciously accepted them. As a second call for her flight reverberated over the terminal speakers, she regarded us with a deep look, as if to communicate that we had all experienced something, and we were all connected now, and that she appreciated our simple acts of kindness today more than words could ever express.

Kit-5 and I stood there and watched as PonyTail walked away, and finally disappeared around a corner. Kit-5 and I stared at each other when her flight was called. There was something new in the way we regarded each other, also possibly something deeper. But we didn't hug, didn't say anything, and didn't exchange any numbers or email addresses. I watched as she walked away. I had another hour after that before my flight was called. I just sat back and closed my eyes, as the events of the week played back in my mind. Before I knew it, I was being awakened by the announcement of my flight over the loudspeakers.

I mostly slept on the long flight back. Little wonder, after the week I'd had. But about halfway through the flight, I was woken up by a discomfort. The salves were wearing off, and my brands were aching. I looked in my carry-on, and what do you know, I found some more of that salve. It could only have been planted there by Duke or Sado-Chick when we flew in. I tended to my brands in the cramped restroom of the plane, and wadded up some toilet paper to stuff down my butt as a pad for good measure. I took a long look at my face in that mirror while I was in there.

Who was that woman? Who was I?

I used to watch the video of my first butt-fucking on porn-hub when I really needed to get off. But now I went to the video of my double-branding for that. Watching yourself be branded, while remembering every second of what if felt like, is the definition of an out-of-body experience.

The day after my return from the ranch, I went right back to work, as if nothing had happened. No one could possibly have had a clue that the straight-laced middle-aged manager in their office sported fresh brands underneath her clothes. I spoke to my daughters regularly, saw friends, shopped and did all the normal stuff one does. And as the weeks drifted by, my wounds healed. I needed a little less in the way of salves and creams each day. As the aching and burning faded away, I learned to live with the symbol of Duke & Sado-Chicks ranch etched into my breast and ass. They were a part of me now. They always had been, but now it was beyond literal. I was a part of them too. The brands signified that I was their property now. I belonged to them. Whether they would ever act on that, remote as it was, was immaterial. I knew it deep in my heart, and it had somehow freed me...and Kit-5.

We lost touch, drifted away. Since our return from the ranch, neither Kit-5 nor I had reached out to each other. No more messages about arriving in each other's nearest airports for long weekends. No more weekends together, testing each other's limits, subjecting ourselves to dominants, or sharing the couch at night. I didn't hear from her anymore, and I never felt I needed to either. And she wasn't hearing from me.

I drifted back to my weekends of casual sex and domination. My brands never failed to draw a reaction when these Doms saw them for the first time. For the strongest of them, the ones surest of themselves, there was admiration...awe. But for most of them, there was intimidation. How could they hope to compete with that level of domination? My brands threw them off their game. No matter what they'd had to offer before, now they were trying to dominate a woman who had submitted to a red-hot branding iron. I was the essence of hard-core now, even though I was still really a middle-aged suburban divorcee. But let's face it: the ranch changed me, and the brands really changed me, and these weekend Doms could tell.

I had to make a shift in my mind to still get anything out of these encounters. In my head, these Doms were beating and fucking me for my masters, Duke & Sado-Chick. It was the only way to get through it and get off as well. In some ways it felt like I'd gone backwards. I was having to work harder to get anything out of my sex life now. But in reality, I'd been pushed further through this tunnel of submission I was going down, closer to the other side. I just didn't know it yet.

PonyTail was different from Kit-5. She messaged me on F*t as soon as she arrived home from the ranch to let me know she'd arrived home safely. I didn't really need to know that, but ok. When she didn't get more of a response from me than, literally "ok", she clammed up a little. I wondered if she were communicating with Kit-5 at all. I kept up with her in other ways. I checked her F*t profile every night, and saw a profusion of stories, essays and photos that she liked. As I expected, she gravitated toward the extreme. She didn't post much of her own, just a perfunctory profile with a single abstract photo of a thigh in a bathtub. She was located in Antarctica, of course.

I also kept up with PonyTail on Pornhub, thanks to Duke & Sado-Chick. I especially enjoyed re-watching her first butt-fucking in the van when I felt like playing for myself. It became one of the greatest hits for me. The little sounds she made as Duke forced his way into her ass were really hot.

About a month later, she messaged me again.

Ponytail: I can't get the night of your branding out of my mind. How does it feel?

CapCunt: I guess...it just feels like a part of me now. I honestly don't know how to answer this question.

Ponytail: Do you regret it?

I didn't think I could answer that question immediately, but maybe I could. Regardless, I left PonyTail on the hook for two days before I finally answered her back.

CapCunt: No.

PonyTail responded back right away.

PonyTail: I wondered. That's what Kit-5 said as well.

So PonyTail had been in communication with Kit-5. That was interesting. I wondered if it was on the same level as ours. I also found it interesting that PonyTail had my email address and phone number, but was choosing to communicate with me over F*t. It was like some code we ranch-slaves lived by. On a whim, and maybe as a reward for her patience, I shared the link of our branding video on PornHub with her. Four hours later.

PonyTail: Oh my. Thank you. I had no idea all this was on display like this. It honestly freaks me out a bit, but, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I enjoyed watching you take the brand.

CapCunt: I took the brand like a pathetic little slave-bitch, didn't I?

PonyTail: Yes, you did, like a pathetic little slave-bitch.

CapCunt: That's ok. I've been getting off to your ass-fuck in the van every night lately. I just wish your face wasn't blurred out in the video. I remember how much it made me want to cum. Was that the first cock in your ass?

PonyTail: Yes, it was. It really hurt, too.

CapCunt: Good. I'm glad.

PonyTail: Me too.

I waited another few days before I replied back to PonyTail.

CapCunt: Do you want more?

PonyTail: Yes.

CapCunt: Are you getting any?

PonyTail: No.

CapCunt: Why not?

PonyTail: I don't know. I can't find anyone, or I don't know how, or maybe I'm just afraid to.

This was an unexpected development. I guess I just naturally expected PonyTail to follow a similar pattern to Kit-5 and I. Maybe I just imagined that every woman who made it into Duke & Sado-Chick's van followed the same path. Come to think of it, now I was wondering just how many women they'd "entertained" up there. Maybe "interned" was a better word. I had this image in my head of a constant stream of women being met in the terminal by Duke. And maybe that was the case. Maybe their "guests" numbered into the hundreds every year. I knew Kit-5 and I were not the first. Duke & Sado-Chick had their system down far too well for that to be the case. No, they'd had enough women to refine their process.

But I digress. I should have known better with PonyTail. Everyone is different, and everyone reacts to...experiences differently...or trauma. Now I felt a responsibility to PonyTail. I was suddenly grateful for her in reaching out, when I hadn't bothered. I didn't know what, if anything, was going on between Kit-5 and her. Sure, I could have found out by asking, but that was still against some unspoken code I was following for reasons that are unfathomable.

I stewed on this for a few days, and then messaged her back.

CapCunt: My closest airport is Indianapolis. I will pick you up there. How soon can you fly in for a weekend?

PonyTail: I don't have the money for an airline ticket or hotel right now.

CapCunt: Give me your name and address at my email address. I'll send you a ticket. You'll stay with me. I suggest we make it next weekend.

PonyTail came through, and I bought her a ticket. Then I checked my plans for the next weekend, cancelled a plan with an iffy Dom, and got one of the better ones to break a date for me. I promised him something special.

PonyTail flew in that Friday. It had been two months now, and they looked like they'd been rough on her. She slouched. Her complexion was pale, her cheeks were hollow. I had a feeling her confidence was shattered. It was just as well I didn't have anything planned for the night. I took her in my arms and gave her a big hug right there in the terminal. Then I took her out to dinner, and insisted she eat everything. But while she ate, we talked, and drank.

PonyTail was a college student all right. She was a sophomore at the University of South Carolina in Columbia.

A sophomore. She was only 20 years old. Same age as my youngest daughter. I thought about that as I remembered being pressed up against her naked body all night.

We compared our stories. She got the kind of perspective on middle-aged angst and sexual frustration that she was unlikely to ever get from her parents, and probably learned more about what marrying young can lead to than she ever wanted to know.

PonyTail was from a small town in South Carolina. Columbia was the big city to her. She'd had these fantasies about being tied up for as long as she could remember. Over time, the fantasies got more elaborate, more intense. Learning about sadism, and domination, scared her at first, then made sense to her. There was no one to try these things with in a small town, but the Internet promised her some like-minded souls with cocks and a sure whip hand in a city. She'd been full of excitement and high hopes her first semester in college, but those had been worn down by dull boys into too much weed and beer.

PonyTail didn't need a boyfriend, and she didn't need cheap sex. She needed a man who could dominate her, who could make her feel like all those twisted, deviant fantasies were within reach. That had led her through a hundred failures on F*t she fortunately never met until she reached Duke101.

Duke didn't press her, never pressured her. Instead he did to her what he did to me. He got inside her head and sent her a plane ticket. And then he took her ass inside that van and with Sado-Chick got her so desperate from edging that she would have done anything to cum on her knees in that barn.

Here it was two months later, and PonyTail was still trying to make sense of it all.

I knew the feeling.

She felt used, abused, violated...She'd been taken for far more than she felt she'd consented to...yet she had consented.

I knew the feeling.

She'd been frightened out of her wits, horrified at the things that were done to her, horrified at the things they made her do, terrified that they would go too far, terrified that she would never leave the ranch, never see her friends and family again, never experience the dull tranquility of attending classes.

I knew the feeling.

She felt humiliation, at being stupid enough to fly across the country just to be stripped and bound in a van, at being taken up the ass for her first time whether she liked it or not with an audience watching, at being paraded as a naked sex-toy in front of all those people who fucked her senseless.

I knew the feeling.

She felt relieved, that night in the barn, when she only had to watch as we were branded like animals, instead of being branded ourselves, and so incredibly grateful when she finally got to cum. She was so crazed at that point, she honestly didn't care what they did to us, or how many times they branded us, as long as she got to orgasm through it. She felt great shame afterwards.

I sort of knew the feelings there. I could certainly imagine who I would have felt in her position.

She felt ultimate relief when she was herded back into the van. She knew she was going back to the airport. They wouldn't bother taking her away from the ranch otherwise. And every mile increased her relief to the point where she felt gratitude. It had all been a great big sexual fantasy after all. And yet, our brands were real. So where did the fantasy end and the reality begin?

I knew the feeling.

She felt violated all over again when she saw the first video on PornHub. Even though her face was blurred, there she was, squealing into the mattress as her ass was taken.

I knew the feeling.

And of course, now she couldn't stop watching those videos over and over, and cumming over and over again when she watched them. Nearly every waking moment was filled with thoughts of the ranch now, and they all made her wet. She'd be sitting there in chemistry class, and suddenly remember the feel of Duke's cock being shoved in her mouth for cleaning while her asshole still ached. It would be all she could do to get to a restroom stall fast enough to rub one out before the next class.

I knew the feeling.

Like I said, it was a quiet evening. After dinner, I drove PonyTail home to my apartment. It was late, and we were tired by then. After getting her settled in and getting ready for bed, I left her out on the couch and turned the lights out. Then I undressed, got a few things, and came back in. I think she was surprised. She had a cute little nightie on. I pulled it off, guided her onto her stomach, and cuffed her hands in back of her. She didn't put up even a hint of a struggle. Then the penis-gag went in. She took it like such a good little girl. I put her up on her side, lay down on my side, and pressed in. I could feel her relax immediately. This is what she'd been needing, but she had no idea.

I let her be denied while I pleasured myself with a vibrator between her bodies. She could feel it against her own body. It was so close, yet not right where it needed to be for her. I screamed as a came pressed against her hot little sophomore slave body, and then fell asleep.

PonyTail thanked me for it in the morning when we woke up and I pulled the gag out of her mouth. She asked me if she could call me Mistress. I said no, I'm just a pathetic piece-of-shit slave like herself. But in this apartment, I was still above her.

She nuzzled her head into me like a true pony. She liked that. It made her feel whole.

I let PonyTail taste my brands later that morning. She fondled my breast in the shower, and when she saw I was ok with it, leaned in to lick it. Then when I turned around to rinse myself off in the water, she got down on her knees and licked the brand on my ass.