The sounds of clashing swords, the howling war cries and the charge of cavalry have faded from the icy banks of the river Peipus. The battle is over. The weary men, farmers and serfs mostly, cannot not believe their good fortune. They have turned back the vaunted might of the Crusaders. The much-feared Order of Teutonic Knights has fled and victory is for the city-state of Novgorod.
Prince Nevskii has won a great victory, not just for Novgorod but for all the people of the Rus Lands. A victory much needed by a people suffering under the heavy yoke of Mongol rule. He rides to the far edge of the battle field from where the Crusaders fled, careful to avoid the thin patches of ice that mark the edge of the river, confident the day is his, regardless of the horrific losses of both men and material.
Upon reaching the farthest point his advance he pauses, from this vantage point he watches the disarrayed fleeing masses of the enemy. He thinks how fortunate their enemy is for now they need not face the might of the Tartar Hordes.
“The Foreign Devils have fled and left much baggage strewn around the banks. With your permission, the men would like to help themselves to the spoils.”
The Prince nods quietly in agreement, but mostly ignoring the man, until he hears the shrill cries of women. Several drunken soldiers are dragging two women away to a concealed wooded spot. They clearly intend to abuse their terrified captives. The Prince is abhorred by this behavior and accosts them.
“Soldier, what are you doing? Who are these women? Where are you taking them?”
One comes forward to answer the prince. “Greetings my lord. These women… Well, we are… They were fleeing with the enemy, they are our foreigners now.”
Another soldier, arrogant, still pumped with adrenaline from the battle, shouts out with complete for good manners and formalities: “They’re Levonian Whores! Bedmates of Monks!”
The others laugh but the prince is not amused.
Sensing that the prince is losing patience, the leader of the men speaks up. “Truly they are foreigners, my prince. Their clothing appears to be that of women of rank. We stumbled upon them when we were pursuing the enemy. They refused to give their names.”
The prince dismounts his steed and takes a closer inspection of the captives. To his surprise he finds two very attractive young women. One is a brunette with fair skin. He would have thought she was still an adolescent, but the full, generous curves of her body showing through the tatters of her rich clothing say otherwise. She is frightened and avoids making any eye contact with her captors. The other is a fair-haired maiden with unblemished skin, firm of body and with delightfully lascivious curves. She is at the height of her womanly charms. She is bolder than the other and glares at the prince with utter contempt.
“They could be witches my lord. The way they look… their intoxicating perfume… it drives us crazy!” warns the leader.
The arrogant soldier speaks again. “Witches, they could be, prince. Only one way to make sure. Find the mark.!” And without hesitation, as if on cue, the other soldiers begin ripping whatever remains of the young women’s clothing. Every stitch was torn away leaving them completely naked, exposed to the leering eyes of the soldiers and the harsh biting cold. More soldiers and militia were now gathering around them and were slowly becoming an undisciplined mob.
“My Prince, let us celebrate this great victory. These women will provide much entertainment for the men. His Majesty will of course have first taste. We could make a sport of it. I wager the fair haired one can serve hundred men by midnight.”
“I say two hundred.”
“I say, the whole militia, assuming she makes it to midnight!”
“HA! HA! HA!”
The soldiers are having a hearty laugh at the expense of the captives while the Prince is about ready to have these insolent men buried alive, castrated or worse. But before he can give the command, Boyar Vassiley, accompanied by hardened Varange warriors makes his presence known and promptly calms the dangerous scene.
“My Prince, I could not help but hear your conversations and the dispute over these ladies. May I make a suggestion?”
“Go ahead, Vassiley.”
“These are foolish old soldiers who can not see the opportunity to earn favor from the Khans. These young ladies are of noble birth and are of excellent breeding. Why not have them trained as courtesans and sent as gifts to the Great Khan? He does have a taste for well-built, exotic women.”
The soldiers begin to grumble and gripe among themselves.
“Better them than our wives, sisters and daughters!” Vassiley adds.
The soldiers grow quiet. They fear the heavy hand of the Mongol Horde.
“You give wise council Vassiley.” The Prince draws close to the beautiful blonde maiden before him, tenderly touching her soft, courtly cheeks.
“My apologies. Matters of state far outweigh chivalrous ideals.”
“Take them to the Old Fort along the Volga. The Mistress there will be receiving guests.” The Prince finally has the last word.
The sun is setting and the long night is starting.
It has been two days since the incident at river. Thoughts of the maidens are still ripe in the minds of the men who saw them, but few ever really knew what became of the young ladies…
Along a path leading to the old fort, laughter is heard from a previously abandoned, dilapidated farmhouse whose last tenants were slain by the Tartars.
Five men, hardened veterans, are amusing themselves with their charges.
“The prince wouldn’t mind us taking our time escorting her ladyships to the Mistress. It would be a waste just handing them over to the Tartars without getting acquainted.”
“Have you ever seen women like these, Dimitry? I have not seen women this exquisite even among the nobility. I can’t wait to get my prick up her arse.”
“Aye, Armen. We will fuck this whore until she rots.”
Close by, three other men have positioned the dark haired girl over a work bench. One holds her by the arms, making her look at his prick which is still limp but clearly of some considerable size. Meanwhile, the other two inspect her anus.
“Dimitry, I checked this one! She is a fuckin’ virgin,” a man brandishing a riding crop exclaims.
He turns his attention to the dark-haired girl.
“At last we’ve found a fine piece of arse that the Tartar scum haven’t been in.”
The sudden biting pain is quickly followed by an agonized scream and tears welling up uncontrollably in the girl’s eyes.
“P-please, my lord. Show pity! We have done you no wrong. Ransom us to our lord. He will give you much compensation for your troubles,” she begs.
“So they can speak after all!”
“And scream…. Ha! ha! ha!”
“Very good. You will have the use of that tongue.”
One man moves behind her and plants his swollen member into the girls vulnerable posterior. Another man holds her arms and forces his prick down into her gullet.
“These are fine haunches. Aaaagh! Tight and smooth. Even here she is a virgin.”
“That is good, Oleg! With every thrust her arse grips my prick like a bear trap. Keep it up!” The man at the rear says.
“Go ahead, Oleg. I feel adventurous right now,” says the man at the front. “If I feel any teeth, I’ll break her jaw.”
The two others, distracted for a moment, now refocus their attention on the fair haired beauty they chose for themselves. One of them, who appears to be the leader, takes charge as the other begins to bind her arms with course ropes.
The leader takes his time feeling the young woman’s body, taking care to linger on her most sensitive and intimate parts. The young lady of course finds little pleasure in this rough handling, especially with callous hands exploring every mound and crevice of her voluptuous body. And soon enough two thick, harsh fingers with jagged broken nails dig deep into her sensitive vagina. Oddly, the man looks more surprised and bewildered than she does. He frowns and then shouts…
“Friggin’ whore! This one is not a virgin!” he howls. “Curse this wench! She has bewitched me. I should have taken the dark haired one.”
Clearly vexed, he stares at the woman who has disappointed him so. He gives no warning as his fingers jab upward, letting the nails bite into the woman’s vagina drawing a bit of blood and urine as well as an agonizing scream.
And for a brief moment she loses perspective of her situation and makes a reckless outburst. “You bastard! You son of a mongrel dog! Touch me again and I’ll kill you!”
The instant the words came out of her mouth she is dumbfounded by the realization that she has just dug a grave for herself. This fact is driven home by the wide smiles her tormentors were now displaying.
“Oleg, I was wrong. This one IS a better choice. Armen, let’s take this slowly now. I want to have some energy left for a little game later.”
“I love a woman with spirit!”
“Slut, you can not even begin to know how much you will regret calling me a bastard!”
“And son of a dog…”
“Shut up, Armen!”
“Armen, you take the bottom. I’ll take the top. Then we’ll get a little rough. See how YOU like it, you little whore.” The leader smiles with murderous intent…
At that moment the woman quietly prays to God to take her life, or at least grant her a knife to do it herself.
It would be a very long night…
The old fort along the Volga. Beneath the heavy hewn stone walls, deep in its dark stuffy dungeons.
A girl, clearly in distress, is painfully straddling an iron horse with her arms bound in an equally painful manner as a woman with a red hot iron brand approaches.
“Please, Mistress. I’ll do anything you want! I beg of you, have mercy!”
The Mistress watching from a distance, speaks out.
“Hold off the hot irons, novice. It is still too early.”
The Mistress approaches the frightened girl. She turns out to be a very attractive woman of Russian Mongolian parentage. She take a cold emotionless gaze at the girl and with sinuous moves produces in her right hand a set of six inch long steel needles.
“You’re such a sweet girl. If only you were more obedient to your masters. The world we live in is so very unforgiving.”
“Please, Mistress. I did not mean it. I am very sorry. I promise to be obedient always. Please…”
“Hush, child. Be content in the knowledge that despite this ordeal you WILL live through this.”
Her gaze does not leave the girl but her demeanor changes. She now has a bright, luminous smile. A beaming, almost reassuring smile. The girl is puzzled and begins to feel misguided relief. She finds comfort in her mistress’s smile. And then the pain comes… A sharp, stabbing, excruciating pain…
The mistress’s gaze never leaves the girl as she presses the long needle ever deeper into her sensitive nipple. A bit of blood spurts out but the needle’s diameter prevents more bleeding.
The girl cries uncontrollably, breathing heavily as the needle slowly enters her breast, inch by agonizing inch…Using her thumb, the mistress take her time, inserting the needles until each fleshy globe is decorated with three of the steel needles, two of which pass right through the breast.
Now the Mistress takes her last needle and aims at the girl’s pubic mound.
“Guess where this one goes, girl?”
“Don’t do it Mistress… not there, please… you’re a woman like me… you know the pain will kill me… please, Mistress, I don’t want to die… NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
As she did with each breast, the mistress slowly eases the needle into the mound, piercing the hood and going right on through the clitoris.
The girl continues to scream but her voice is now hoarse and can no longer convey the intensity of the pain that is devastating her private parts. She is now living in her own personal hell. She convulses violently… then…
“Looks like she’s fainted. That is her limit for now. Soon she will be able to tolerate more. Then when she is ready, you can start administering the hot irons.”
“Yes, Mistress.” The novice nods.
“Take this slut off the Iron horse and have the guards wake her up in the usual way. Oh, and don’t forget to reset her shoulders and to bring back the steel needles. They are hard to come by.”
“Now for our new house guests.”
The Mistress opens a heavy wooden door. It is at the far end of the dungeon but well within hearing of the cries and scream of the tortured victims. She pauses as her eyes adjust to the dark, damp cell. She makes out two very attractive young women, naked and bound to the supporting columns of the room and perhaps a little less innocent than they were a few days ago. They make no sound and only stare at their new captor and tormentor.
“So, these are the special gifts for the Great Khan. My dear Prince Nevskii is always so generous. Ladies, this will be a long training process. The Great Khan is not easily impressed. I hope you have the constitution for it.” She smiles.
The snow continues to melt away in the warmth of spring. The ice that covered the rivers will no longer support the weight of men and beast alike. Bad weather for the fearsome Mongol hordes, who much prefer fighting in the cold of winter with the waterways frozen and passable. They retire to Sarai leaving only a few men to guard vital causeways.
A cold dawn comes slowly at the old fort. Outside the walls two Mongolian warriors, assigned to the service of the Mistress, watch over the training of a novice pony girl. Recently bridled and ringed, forced to trot without sight or sound around a cruel piked carousel. The pike, a sharply riveted metal rod twelve inches long from the base and two inches in diameter is firmly driven up her vagina, it’s point scraping her cervix. This forces the pony girl to stay on her toes to minimize the pain jabbing at her innards, with the still cold weather adding to the suffering of her exposed body. The guards at their leisure may lift her up from the pike to take turns at her ass, but they must return her immediately to the pike as soon as they have satiated themselves. The greatest pain comes every time she is returned to the pike, or more accurately dropped onto it. This is to be her lot from morning ’til dawn until the Mistress of the fort deems it time to change her routine.
The Mistress draws closer to the dark haired creature weeping in the shadows. She appreciates the delicate, innocent beauty before her. She is moved by the lovely eyes, where fresh tears are welling up…
“Don’t waste those tears. You’ll need them later.”
A soft hand caresses the girls body, assessing the quality of her skin, the firmness of her breasts, going down to her most sensitive and intimate parts. The girl flinches a bit but does not make any discernible move to tear herself away from the disconcerting intrusion. She is too afraid to show even a hint of resistance.
“I see the Varangians have thoroughly broken your spirit. You no longer belong to yourself. That is good. Hmm… they have yet to take your virginity. That would have been well and good if you were to be sold to a harem but alas you are not going to one. Don’t worry. We will take care of this little oversight, then we will begin your training, little pony.”
The girl grows white with terror at these terrible words. It is beginning to dawn on her that whatever suffering she has endured in the last few days will pale in comparison to what is to come.
The Mistress moves away from the girl, adjusts her eyes to a slightly brighter corner of the cell and approaches the pretty blonde creature whose eyes are lifted to meet hers. This one was less afraid and perhaps even a little defiant in her gaze. The Mistress could not help but smile.
“Well, the cuckold Rus was not lying when he said you had spirit. Looking straight in the eyes of your mistress with such demeanor! I will enjoy breaking you in, little pony.” She says as she pushes her foot between the girls legs.
The grimaces remains silent but grimaces in pain as the foot presses into an unusually tender spot.
“Still sore? I expected that much. It will take a few days to heal.”
The Mistress kneels down and lets her hands explore the tender spot between the girl’s legs…
“But I think you like pain, don’t you? They said you climaxed many times while they were raping and using your body in everyway they could imagine.” The Mistress leans forward exerting more pressure on the girls privates.
“Ungh!” The girl’s face continue to distort as the pain grows more intense.
“But here, we will have none of that. You will not take any pleasure, even from pain, unless your Mistress wishes it. You may have been nobility before, but here you are nothing. You are only a pony slave. Your breasts, your ass, your orifices, your entire body, they all belong to me and to whoever becomes your master.”
Near Lake Peipus, several days earlier. The two young women were tied together naked on an open cart for their journey to the Mistress’s fortress. It was very uncomfortable as the climate was still quite cold even at the beginning of spring. The Prince would not have approved of this manner of travel, but without his regal presence none were in the mood to protest.
“I hope you ladies are not too chilly there. Be glad it isn’t winter or you’d probably freeze your tits off. Ha Ha Ha!”
“But don’t worry, we’ll warm you bitches up a bit later. Mark my words, we’ll have a hell of a time,” the soldier boasts.
“I bet you ladies have never had this kind of service before. You and your fine clothes, big castles and good food. Here you will learn the meaning of being a woman in these lands.” The man sneers.
“A virgin you are not. But we can yet squeeze some pleasure from your pampered cunt,” the man says as he begins to mount the girl.
“This bitch’s ass is fine buggering. We can do this all day.”
“I’m not interested in just buggering, Armen. I have other plans for these bitches.”
“I like your firm breasts, they’re nice and fat, good for suckling. Any mother’s milk?” He bites into her nipple, drawing a bit of blood, and drinks from it.
“Your blood is sweet.” He continues to suckle her wounded nipple.
“Hey, move your ass around, you lazy whore. I’m getting bored,” the man called Armen complains.
“You heard the man! Move your damn ass!” the man shouts.
“I can’t. Please, it hurts too much!”
“You call that pain? I will show you what pain is.” The man grabs hold of both her nipples and pulls violently. “Now this is pain.”
“AAAAIYYEEEEEEEEE!!!” The girl’s eyes widen and dilate. Tears pour out as she gives a terrible cry. The pangs from her nipples snap at her mind. The splitting, tearing pain in her ass and vagina are diluted by the incredible pain now tormenting her breasts.
The man’s hands are rough and hard, with strong, vice like fingers. He continues to pinch at the girl’s nipples as if cracking a walnut. He lifts her by her breast and swings her to and fro. “Well, Armen. How is that?”
“STOP! PLEEEEASE! STOP!” the girl shouts, in agony.
“Aye, much better.” Finding an improve source of pleasure, he begins to pump harder, buggering the girl with greater momentum.
The girl wails madly and her body twists and writhes in agony. The men laugh, now satisfied with the girls’ improved enthusiasm.
Meanwhile, in the other girls’ corner, the men have spent their seed, delivering it deep into her rump and gullet. They observe their handiwork, looking at the welts and bruises inflicted on the girls body. They take great interest in her now distended anus.
“Look at that, Ivan. Now that is a good gaping shitty asshole!” Oleg, the man with the whip, takes hold of both cheeks and spreads wide apart to make his point.
“She is deep and smooth. As soon as I get my bearings I’ll take another shot at her.”
“Wait!” Spreading the cheeks even more, he coughs up saliva and spits it into the girl’s gaping hole. “Since it is already borrowed, let’s see how accommodating she can be.”
“Please, my Lord. No more! My body is torn. I will die!” the girl pleads.
“Agreed,” says Ivan with a wide grin on his face.
The men reposition the girl on the workbench and take some particularly course rope and bind her to it. Her buttocks are now up high, in a vulnerable display…
“You’re such a fucking whore, I bet you’re not full yet,” the man shouts close to her ears, startling her.
“Well, Dimitry. This little bitch will have a preview of child birth. Maybe that will fill her up,” exclaims Oleg. “Ivan, do you remember what we did with that arrogant Byzantine girl?”
“Ha! ha! ha!” Yes, I doubt she will ever sit down again.”
Ivan positions himself behind the girl. She is terrified and shudders violently. The man begins to move his thick fingers into her still gaping anus. Her eyes widen and dilate.
“Please, my lord. Don’t do this. I will do whatever you ask. Just spare me this ordeal! In God’s name I beg of you!” The girl pleads vehemently, her tears flowing in torrents now as the first pangs ripple through her body…
“AAAAIIIEEEEEEE! “She wails. “Stop! I’m going to die! Stop!”
The only reply she heard was the sound of their laughter.
Vassiliev, the leader of the Varangians, plans to punish the fair haired girl for her previous transgression. With the help of Armen, they tie her to the old sheep pens. Using the columns they spread her legs out, completely exposing her private parts.
“Tighten the ropes. I want her wide open.” Vassiliev demands while taking out a thick leather belt used to harness the horses.
“I’ll show you how we punish arrogant little sluts like you.” With a swish in the air he brings the leather belt down on top of her vulnerable pubic mound.
“AAAAAAAIIIYEEEEHH!” she screams.
He begins to flog the girl with greater vigor, striking her privates repeatedly and moving out from there to the very tender flesh on her inner thighs. The girl can do nothing but scream and plead for mercy, which serves only to amuse her captors…
After a while the man produces a stout piece of wood which the girl at first thinks will be used to beat her. But to her surprise and horror, the man jams the object right up her ass and ties it to her arms and the sheep pen.
He takes a close look at his handiwork, makes a close observation of the girl’s reddening mound and takes a vicious bite, inflicting unspeakable torment. She tries to move away only to feel more pain from the object lodged up her ass.
He begins to use the belt once more and every fidgety move the girl makes transfers to the wood, slowly driving it further in. In the end she tries not to move anymore and just let her body absorb the blows.
“Does it hurt, slut? Yeah… I love your long, creamy, slender thighs!”
At times the young maidens would much prefer their captors to be randy rather than playful and inventive. The captors delight in playing the cruelest of games before outright raping their victims , forcibly stretching and straining the girls’ bodies, which are coming closer to breaking point. The blonde, being of less value to slave traders, often gets the worst of it.
Tied to a post or a cart, the men place bets on which of them can make a girl wet herself on exactly the twentieth stroke of a leather whip. This often means doing it again and again until one of the girls pisses herself at the right moment.”
The following night, the dark haired girl develops a bit of a fever. The men decided to introduce their own brand of healing.
“It is customary to induce bleeding to bring out the evil blood that is making you sick. Since your tits are nice and fat, all the bad, sickly blood is probably in there. So we graciously volunteer to beat the evil out of your big boobs.”
The treatment takes about an hour. The fever breaks out again the next day, but her breasts are so swollen and sore that the men decide to let her rest that day.
Unfortunately for the blonde girl, who now has to accommodate all five of the men…
That evening, the blonde girl’s body was so covered with excruciating bruises and whip marks that she fidgets a little too much as she is being mounted and she accidentally knees a man in the bollocks.
The next day after the whipping game they tie her left foot up to the rafters, stretching it up until her foot is as high as her head, with her arms and right foot firmly bound to a wooden column. A claymore is planted on the ground at the base of the column with its handle cruelly driven deep into her ass.
“My bollocks are still sore from what you did before, and since you do not have any bollocks I cannot repay you in kind. So I guess your tight little bum will have to do.”
“I’ll do a deal with you, your Ladyship. If you can get loose and knee my crotch again, I’ll let you go,” he jokes.
“Ha! ha! ha! Try not to rip your ass too much. Ivan here wants to do a fisty again. He’s angry with you for borrowing his sword without permission.” He moves closer and begins raping her.
The combination of the man’s member and the cold hard steel create terrible pains as her sensitive insides are caught between them. Her outstretched legs make any movement awkward and her attempts at balancing her body only serve to force the sword handle even deeper…
Morning comes and the women are finally allowed to stroll about, naked and with their arms bound. At the side of the house they find the leader, busy sharpening a piece of log driven into the ground with about 5 ft of its length protruding.
“Good day, m’ladies. Guess what I’m making!” The man is suspiciously amused.
“The boys and I have decided that taking both of you along to the traders would attract too much attention. So only one of you will be sold, the other one…. well, she’ll find out later.”
The girls eyes widen as they realize what the man was making. The dark haired girl nearly collapses as her knees buckle…
That afternoon, after a long session of buggering and mounting, the men make final preparations for the last game they will play with the girls. The dark haired girls is taken first. Now with the usual coarse rope, one end is wrapped around her waist and passed down between her legs and up through her crack. The other end is wound over a sign post and knotted around the blonde girl’s neck.
They then carefully tie the blonde girl’s arms to the corresponding foot. This forces her to adopt a kneeling position. Gently they lift the girl and put her over the sharpened wooden stake. They order the other girl to pull at the rope, putting pressure on her privates as she does so.
They then lower the fair haired girl on to the stake, driving the point up into her vagina as the other girl pulls at the rope. Now the blonde girl’s weight is divided between her vagina on the stake and the rope around her neck. With her arms bound to her legs, she has great difficulty in using her thighs to grasp the stake.
“Now bitch, one of two things will happen. Your friend’s legs will buckle and you will be impaled on the stake, which is a very slow and agonizing death; or she will stand fast and you will suffocate slowly while riding that stake, which is also a long and agonizing death.”
“I put my money on a good old-fashioned impalement. But just before you die we will flay you and sell your skin to the Tartars. How does that sound to you?”
The girl’s only reply is a gurgling sound. She would gladly accept a quick death of any kind to impalement, a slow and particularly humiliating kind of death…
Several minutes pass and Vassiliev grows impatient. The dark haired girl has shown remarkable resolve, keeping her companion from being impaled. The men chide Vassiliev as there is not much of a show to satisfy them.
“I am tired of this.” He takes his leather whip once more and savagely beats the girl.
“Please stop, my lord! I don’t want her to die. Not like this!” she pleads.
“Shut up! I’ll break your legs if I have to.”
Suddenly, before he can strike again at the girl, an arrow comes from nowhere and pierces the hand of the Varangian, forcing him to drop the whip.
The others grab their weapons and prepare to do battle with an enemy they have yet to see.
Then from the woods horsemen appear, their bows drawn tight. Armored warriors carry axes and shields. The men are surrounded.
“Varangian, you know who we are and you know what we want. The Mistress has sent for the women,” the lead rider exclaims.
“Mongols!” The Varangians drop their weapons. They know well enough not to test Mongol skills.
Warriors quickly move in on the girls, assisting the one in most distress. An arrow whizzes over their heads and slices the rope that was strangling the girl.
The other girl finally loses all her strength and passes out on the snow. Unconscious, she does not feel how she is lifted onto a horse and smelly but warm goat hide is placed over her naked body.
The strange men carefully lifted the blonde girl from the stake, taking care not to damage her any further. She thanked them profusely for saving her life. She was not worried about their strange features, or the fear the men invoked in her Varangian captors. She did not care if these men would treat her like a whore or a beast of burden, as long as she did not die in such a painful and shameful fashion. She was not troubled by the fact that she was now in the hands of “The Devil’s Horsemen”.
A physician amongst them attends to the girl’s wounds…
It took a few days to reach the fortress. The women were allowed time to rest on the journey, time to recover some much needed strength. But now they are within the walls of the fortress and at the mercy of the Mistress.
“Closer, pony.” She grabs a hold of the girl’s soft blonde locks and draws her right onto her pubic mound. “Show me how dexterous that little tongue is.”
The girl hesitantly attempts to lick at the Mistress’s privates.
The girl closes her eyes, makes a valiant effort and tongues the Mistress’s vagina. However, she cannot disguise the fact that she feels some repugnance. She pulls her face away…
“Open your mouth, pony.” The girl is surprised but obliges, only to feel a warm salty stream running down over her face and in between her lips. She opens her eyes wide to see her Mistress urinating onto her face and into her open mouth.
The next morning the novice ponies are allowed to enter the courtyards. Their arms are painfully roped to their backs and the girls sport an iron collar. There they are shocked to see the torments that they themselves will soon endure. Lines of whipping posts stretch across the courtyard, each with varying uses and functions. Some are simple wooden posts, others are fitted with cruel metal or wooden wedges, while still others are fitted with large penetrating iron screws set into the wedge to stretch the girls’ tight, unaccommodating anuses. The novices tremble at the screams and groans of the first victims of the posts, some buckle and falter out of shear terror as others faint from the sight and the smell of the blood.
From the parapets overlooking the courtyard, the Mistress addresses the group. “Welcome, little ponies, to the Fortress. Today you will begin your lessons. The sooner you learn, the better you will perform, the less will be your suffering. Your future masters are sons of the wind, harsh fearsome warriors born on the unforgiving steppes. Cross them but once and your life may be forfeit. I have only one rule for you: learn quickly or face the consequences.”
“I’m sure some of you are contemplating trying to escape. Rest assured that such a thing is not possible. Every man on the walls is an excellent shot and my huntsmen are relentless. Only last night a novice like yourselves escaped from a slave caravan on its way here. I shall use her as an example to you all.” She turns to the Mongol chieftain. “Have the ponies leashed to my horse. It is time to give them a little run.”
In the woods five miles from the Fortress, resting birds are suddenly startled into flight by the presence of a stranger in their midst. It is a young woman with long blonde hair. The woman, who is exceptionally well built and completely naked, is fleeing from the sounds of approaching horsemen. She stumbles clumsily, tripping and rolling on the uneven ground with its treacherous patches of ice and moss. It has not occurred to her that all her efforts are futile. She is panicking and all she can do is run in terror.
As the frightening echo of hooves draws closer, she tries to stay ahead of them. She is already exhausted and a cold sweat runs in the crack between her ample breasts. She knows her punishment will be severe if she is caught…
The Mongol warriors are soon upon her. Her pale, creamy skin and bright golden hair would have been quite an asset in a civilized noble society, but in the untamed woods all they do is make her an easy prey.
“My God! No!” she exclaims as the entire hunting party moves in the fugitive. She will pay dearly for her brief freedom
She is soon surrounded, left with no avenue of advance or retreat. Her eyes open wide with fear and well with tears, pleading with her captors to let her go. She even offers herself to them. But these are the warriors of the Great Khan, and such a thing is not their custom. These disciplined warriors have laid waste to mighty kingdoms in pursuit of fleeing slaves. They will not let a pony girl escape.
The Mongol chief arrives and addresses his men, “She ran well enough for a Russian girl. Find her a suitable tree.”
“There are the traditional punishments for fugitive slaves. You are about to experience the full sentence. That is the Mistress’s wish.. It will be a lesson to all.” The chief’s eyes fix on the girl’s bountiful attributes.
The Mongols, brandishing coarse rope and leather straps, begin to manhandle the girl and drag her to a selected tree.
“You can’t do this to me!” she screams hysterically. “I am Irina Belsky. I am a noblewoman. I am the daughter of the Boyar of Muscovy. Do you not understand? You could ransom me to my family and gain enormous wealth. I am not a slave! I do not deserve this treatment. I beg of you!”
The Mongols stop in their tracks, bewildered.
“Did you hear that, men? A noble born and bred!” The Chief bellows, almost laughing. “Do you have any proof of your noble birth? I see no crest of a Great house. I see no sign of wealth other than your generous, swelling breasts…”
“Take me to my father. He will give you proof. You will all be rewarded handsomely,” she pleads with eyes that are near to tears.
“So your father is the Boyar of Muscovy?” the chief says mockingly and looks at his men.
Suddenly they all burst into grim laughter. The girl looks dumbfounded and grows steadily more desperate. A warrior with coarse rope in one hand grabs a handful of the girl’s golden locks and drags her roughly to the tree.
“Yes, the Boyar of Muscovy is very wealthy. But wealth is no use to a man with no head.” The girl’s legs buckle and she nearly faints…
As the Mongols tie the noblewoman to a tree, the Mistress arrives, followed by a retinue of novice ponygirls and the gifts sent by Lord Nevskii. Their arms are still firmly bound behind their backs and their iron collars are now leashed to the Mistresses horse. They have been running for five miles and, nearing exhaustion, they are trying not to stumble, which would mean being dragged to death by the powerful horse…
The Mistress halts her steed at the edge of the gathering warriors. Her retinue of novices, catching their breath, are silently grateful to for the rest. They are growing alarmed at the dramatic events about to unfold…
“A fine hunt, Lord Mцngke. Was she a difficult prey?”
“Not at all, Mistress. She left a trail a man with no eyes could follow. But she did show stamina.”
At the tree, selected for it’s shape and girth, the warriors are tightly securing the girl upside-down. They pull hard at the coarse rope, taking pains to make sure she is bound tight to the tree’s prickly bark.
“One more tug.”
“Raise her feet a little more.”
“Now little ponies, watch carefully. This is your first lesson. As I said before, escape is not possible and any attempt will have very serious consequences,” she says, addressing the fearful novice ponygirls.
“She gave us a good run. A pity, she would have made a good ponygirl. Losing a pretty little pony is a great personal loss to me. However, this is a very serious matter. I cannot emphasize too strongly how important obedience and discipline are.” She turns to the chief. “You may begin, Mцngke.”
Several men begin taking five arrows each, strapping them together near their metal points. The novice ponies watch carefully, wondering and fearing what is to come.
Two of the men move behind the girl, positioning themselves at each of the girls exposed feet. They look at their chief and await his signal. The girl struggles in her bonds. Her head feels like it is about to explode. She continues to beg and plead but all the others are silent. All attention is directed at Mцngke.
The Mongol chief gives a nod and the warriors begin their task. The first two begin striking the girls feet, using the bundled arrow bolts as a whip. They show absolutely no hesitation nor restraint. Every blow is struck solidly at her bare feet, eliciting a horrific scream from the beautiful young woman. The poor novices watch and wince at every blow, too frightened to turn away and risk their Mistress’s ire
The Mongol continues their assault on to the girl’s now swollen and bruised feet until all five arrow bolts are broken. Then the next men take their place, repeating the almost rhythmic torture.
“Please, Mistress. Show her mercy. Has she not suffered enough?” The dark haired girl pleads in a whispering voice and turning her head away from the barbaric spectacle.
Don’t look away, pony. Watch closely or I will have your eyes plucked out and fed to your friend. You are no longer children hiding behind your mother’s skirts. This is your world, your life now, and the sooner you learn that the happier I will be, and the safer you will be. Believe me, you would not want to make me unhappy.” The Mistress snarls. “Enjoy the fact that this poor creature is not you. Or do you wish to share her experience?”
“No, Mistress. I’m sorry.” The girl responds nervously.
The Mongols finally finish the whipping of Irina’s feet. Now she is no longer screaming, just groaning hoarsely. The last man approaches, this time taking a position directly in front of her. He takes his bundle of arrow bolts and smashes them on the girls exposed private parts. This time she screams very loud indeed…
The arrow bolts are all broken and the Mongols take a break, to the relief of Irina and the novices.
The dark-haired girl is separated from the other novices as the Mistress rummages through a bearskin bag. She produces a large metal device with a distinctly insidious design. The girls think they know what this device is for…
Twelve inches in length, over an inch wide, shaped like a curving letter “F” with expanding heads on three ends. The three ends were odd lengths, 9″,4″ and 5″. It is a grotesque tool of torment.
“Since you care so much for this foolish runaway. I will let you continue her punishment.”
The girl is soon seized by 3 warriors and the device, with its two shorter lengths, is fitted into her still virgin cunt and up her anus. This, no doubt, was quite excruciating…
“Mistress, let me take her place. She is not ready for such a thing,” her fair-haired friend protests.
“Hush, Pony. Never second-guess your Mistress’s decision. Ever.” The Mistress glares. “Mцngke, bring forth your best-endowed warriors and sodomize this over-enthusiastic whelp.”
“As you wish, Mistress,” Mцngke replies.
Satisfied that the device is firmly implanted, they turn two screws at the base, expanding the bulbous ends. At first the girl makes no sound, but her eyes widen as her insides are forcibly stretched by the cold metal instrument. Then…
“AAAAAAAGH…NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” she screams at the top of her lungs.
“Now that should keep it from slipping out…”
Meanwhile, Irina has been shifted from her previous upturned position. Her legs are now widely spread as her back rests on the tree’s lower “Y” shape. Her torturer is now in full view, as is the instrument of her torment. She breathes heavily. She knows what is to come and would gladly accept a hundred more blows to her feet than this cruel thing…
“No! Please! Anything but that!” she cries. But a fellow slave cannot be pleaded with, for she too is only an instrument. The girl waddles closer to Irina…
In the meantime, with a bundled set of arrow bolts shoved up her anus, the fair-haired girl is steered to her own corner of hell by two huge and fierce-looking Mongolians. The bristled feathers of the arrows prove to be quite discomforting especially when pushed in and twisted about.
Not satisfied with her response to the steering, the Mongol makes a quick jab and twists the arrows. This gets the girls attention and produces a shrill cry. They continue steering her about until they get tired of this amusement. A good thing for the girl, since the arrow bolts are about to break her skin…
Finding a nice spot well in view of the others, they strip her down and begin buggering her ferociously. The girl can barely contain the size of the warrior’s members in her bowels. The Mongol’s member is so massive that she has the impression she has been split open.
As the warrior pummels her anus into total submissiveness she makes loud agonized grunts with every stroke. This is soon put to an end as the other warrior slams his member into her throat. Now she can hardly breathe as both men impale her, working at both ends. She is nearly suffocating from the ordeal, gasping for air. To her astonishment she realizes that she is being aroused despite all she is suffering…
However, arousal is far from poor Irina’s mind as she feels the dark-haired girl beginning to fuck her. She feels only pain, and the worst is still to come. The removal of the device will be even more excruciating. The shape makes sure of that by scraping at her insides.
Inexplicably, the dark-haired girl gets more and more aroused as she continues to fuck Irina. Despite the pain between her legs, the sight of the beautiful woman’s pleading face, her sumptuous proportions and porcelain skin are all making her head swim. Soon she is losing herself as she fucks on…
The Mongols watch in awe as the beautiful dark-haired girl pumps and gyrates to the detriment of the now inconsolable Irina.
Finally the girl reaches the crescendo of her first true orgasm and screams at her first taste of sexual pleasure. The Mistress notices this display and is not amused. The slave will be punished.
The rush of her fluids has lubricated her vagina sufficiently for the device to fall out from it’s own weight. Totally spent, the girl simply collapses on to the mossy ground. Though painful, it has been the first orgasm she has truly enjoyed. Irina, still crying, is relieved that it is finally over, or so she thinks…
“What is wrong with her?” asks Mцngke .
“It looks to me as if this one enjoyed herself a little too much,” a warrior comments. “A natural whore, this one.”
“Indeed, but I gave no permission for a mere novice pony to take pleasure in another. She will have to be disciplined. But later.”
The Mistress approaches the suffering, teary-eyed Irina. She stoops to inspect the out come of her performance. A bit of blood trickles from the slave’s injured privates, badly chaffed from the inside. Every touch upon her sensitive mound would translate to excruciating pain. The Mistress knows this and begins to introduce her digits into Irina’s bloodied orifice.
Unbeknownst to the novice ponies, the nature of Irina’s distress was not due to the intrusion of the Mistress fingers but from the seemingly soft arm length glove she wears. Because the material is not made of leather or thread but in fact it is made from the flesh of Sharks. Sharks whose skin is covered by sharp tiny little teeth that could scrape away unprotected skin.
“Surprise, my little slave!”
Now the Mistress insert her entire hand into Irina and begins to fist fuck her, slowly at first but progressively quickens with every stroke.
Irina, now in total panic; twists, writhes and contorts desperately in a futile attempt to pull away from the source of her anguish. This, of course further delights the Mistress’ who is now fucking the girl up to her wrist, wrenching her arm in and out.
After a few minutes of this the Mistress withdraws her bloodied hand from Irina’s very raw privates. Satisfied and quite tired of the deed.
The Mistress allows the Mongols to have their turn with Irina. Despite her injuries she now has to satisfy some twenty men before she is released from the tree.
By noon the Mistress has grown bored with the tediously repetitive spectacle.
“Enough of this. Leash them to the horses and drag them back to the fort. We will finish the sentence there in front of all the ponies,” the Mistress commands.
The warriors act quickly and leash the two girls to their horses. The dark-haired girl is still wobbly and confused from her first orgasm. A quick sharp blow to her crotch livens her up, and as for the poor Irina, she has to struggle to keep up with a galloping horse on her sore, bloodied feet.
That afternoon the dark-haired girl is taken to a wedged punishment block.
She is forcibly straddled on the toothed wedge with her back exposed for whipping. Thirty lashes are dictated by the Mistress, a comparably light sentence for her major transgression in taking pleasure in the torment of a pony without the explicit permission of her Mistress!
“Thirty lashes on that nice smooth back of yours, slave. And you’re gonna get the full force of my arm. Ready to scream?”
Next to her, Irina is also straddled on a wedged block.
She is tied down with prickly, coarse rope. A wooden bar imbedded in the column stretches her legs at the joints. She has already received her extra lashes but that is not the end of her sentence.
The last part of her punishment is about to be inflicted. A warrior approaches the poor girl carrying a heavy two-handed mallet. He positions himself at her side, gathers his strength, swings the mallet mightily and smashes her vulnerable knee.
The girl bellows a scream of unimaginable agony. All the ponies that are watching are chilled to the bone by the animal-like screams.
The massive hammer is swung again and the other knee is destroyed. The process is continued up and down the girls’ leg until every bone is crushed and her legs lie smashed and formless.
This completes the sentence. The ponygirls will never contemplate escaping again.
“The whipping is over, slave, but not the punishment. Now I’m gonna smash your legs with the hammer, knees first! You won’t escape again!”
The following day, the novice ponies awoke to the cheerful laughter of their Mongol captors. At first they seemed like playing with a large sack or a light colored bag. A closer inspection soon brings chills down their spines. The warriors were playing with Irina, or what was left of the poor girl. She was very much alive and had been attended to by the best physicians in the fortress. They had carefully amputated her broken limbs and sewn the stumps neatly. She could only roll and undulate like a thick maggot.
The Mongols were very much amused by the limbless creature their mistress gave them to play with. They began extracting every ounce of pleasure the can from Irina. Her spirit was totally broken and obliges to their every whim regardless of the pain she would endure. Irina Belsky is no more, daughter of the Boyar of Moscovy no longer
They poke and probe the girls every orifice all of which are now open and vulnerable to their rough advances. The Mongols, finding Irina a little to accommodating decides to elicit a few screams by driving a fist into her gaping ass.
At noon the new ponies were tested for strength and tolerance to the whip. They were to familiarize themselves with its caress.
One by one the girls are strapped to a whipping post and subjected to the ordeal. A warrior with a soft leather lash approaches from the back and begins the test. Each girl is given the mandatory 20 strokes punishment. Any pony incapable of taking the minimum 20 would be deemed unsuitable for training and would be culled immediately.
Fortunately, all passed the minimum required strokes.
Unfortunately, after the 20 strokes is administered a second warrior would begin whipping from the front. The amount of strokes the pony receives without fainting will determine their status among the ranks.
The Mistress gives more attention to the newer novice ponies, in particular, the lovely blonde from Prince Nevsky.
“You are not like the others. I can see it in your eyes; the arrogance and haughtiness of an aristocrat. Despite your time with my warriors, they never really broke you. You still have a lot of pride.” She addresses her with a soft but stern voice.
“Tell me your name, proud pony. I know you still have a tongue to speak with.”
“I have no name. I am just a novice pony.” She glares.
“Such proud manners.” The Mistress begins to whisper to the girl. “One way or another I will know your true name.”
“Mцnke, let this prideful one taste the full length of the Mongol whips. Hold nothing back. I want to see her break in front of me.”
“As you wish, Mistress.” Replied Mцnke. He then signals to his horse tamers to take the whips. These are hard men accustomed to breaking the fiercest of wild horses.
“I’ll hurt you, my precious. I’ll change those haughty manners of you, I promise!”
The Mistress stands in front of the girl staring straight into her eyes. Then the Mongols begin the flagellation of the arrogant pony. The strokes are vicious and brutal.
She bore the first stroke without making a sound. The second, tears welled out from her eyes. The third, she let out a shallow cry. The fourth, she utters a sharp piercing cry. Soon enough, she screams madly at every stroke.
Still staring into the girls eyes the Mistress smiles with satisfaction.
It did not take too long for the girl to loose consciousness from the fury of the flogging. The lovely body of the beautiful pony has reached its limit.
Mцnke turns to the Mistress “The slave is tamed, Mistress.”
“No, not yet, Mцnke. She may have screamed in agony but she shed tears with pride. This one will take some special treatment.” She replied.
“Take her down, I will address this pony personally.” She says as she begins to caress the unconscious girls face. “And it’s going to be a pleasure…”
Irina is not so fortunate. She is very much conscious and still feeling the phantom pains from her already severed legs and arms not to mention bearing the seemingly endless assaults from her Mongol caretakers.
They had taken her long hair and braided it like a rope and tying it to a wooden span. The Mongols can now fuck her upright from both her arse and cunt. They are much enamored by her soft white skin and brutally squeeze and pinch her sensitive breasts as they ravage her body all day.
When they finally grew tired of fucking poor Irina, they tied her over a spiked impalement peg, allowing it to slide into her body a few inches. She quivered and undulates violently from the sudden pain from the cold iron spikes imbedded on the peg. She begged and pleaded as always to no avail. Then to her horror, the Mongols began to turn her on the peg. She was being spun from left to right and the cold spikes were tearing into her abused and swollen cunny.
The day would end with Irina abandoned on the peg, contemplating her predicament and praying for death. She realizes she was totally without help and even the taking of her own life was no longer in her power. Night came and went with the novice ponies hearing only Irina’s inconsolable sobbing.
The following day the blonde novice pony was given a special morning ritual. She was made to teeters over a forked spear. The spears shorter side points slightly piercing the bottom part of her breast while the longer center point touched her jugular. The weight of her upper body was supported by her arms now tied painfully to her back in a “strapado” fashion. She had to maintain a stiffened position the entire day to avoid being run through by the spear. Every now and then a Mongol would move to her back and feel around and ass and vagina. Then let her taste one stroke of the whip.
Her dark haired companion, being roughly fondled by their tormentors, was kept at her side to watch her long agonizing mortification.
With her arms nearly dislocated and her body racked with pain, the blonde was questioned once more by the Mistress. “Your name, pony?” and again the blonde remained silent.
Strangely the Mistress appeared more amused than frustrated. She knew this girl would make an exceptional pony once properly heeled.
That evening, the defiant blonde was sent down to the lower dungeons and given a dark solitary cell. There, she was forced to sit on a chair for the “Devils Harlot”. It was not as painful as the “Iron Horse” but it left every sensitive orifice dangerously exposed to abuse and torture.
For hours, the girl nervously waited for her tormentors. The anticipation itself has become a kind of torture as every sound or shuffling in the dark made her jump out of her skin. Then a voice from the shadows, “Little pony, I will know your name today.” It was the Mistress.
The voice brought chills down her spine.
A Mongol warrior emerges from the darkness carrying a short flat sword. He takes the sword and begins to use its pointed edge to caress the girls open cunt. He takes care not to cut the girl but makes certain to inflict some discomfort. The girl is too frightened to know if she’s being cut or not. The cold blade and the stabbing sensations causes her to struggle even more.
The shear terror of being split open in such a manner made her lose control of her bladder and she involuntarily urinates all over the sword.
“Now, let her know the kiss of the sword.” Speaks the Mistress.
With those orders the Mongol raises his sword and let it viciously slam down on to the girls’ tender privates.
The savageness of the blow is both surprising and unnerving. The girl trembles violently. She is in shock. She has never felt a pain that rippled across her whole body. Tears are quickly shed as she struggles rather provocatively from her restraints.
Then the Mongol raises his sword again…
“please… no.” She pleads meekly.
The Mistress smiles with satisfaction. “Ten more licks of the sword.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Responds the warrior.
“NO!” The blonde screams out.
The girl is given a short respite before they begin a new cycle of torment. A second Mongol adjusts the “garrote”. He tightens the device close to choking her but not enough to kill. Now the other Mongol produces the Mistress’ needles and pliers. He kneels down in front of the girl’s privates…
“Now, let her taste the bliss of painful, piercing pleasures.” The Mistress orders.
“NOOOOOOOO!” The Mongol begins to jab her vagina with the needle as he pinches and pulls at it with the pliers. He attacks the labia and the clitoris as well as probing deep into her uterus.
The final act of brutality. With the garrote still wind tight, a warrior examines the girls’ tortured orifice and introduces his thick fingers. He probes and stretches, first with two fingers, then four, and finally forcing all five digits into her poor vagina.
“Stop, I beg of you. I’ll tell you anything!” The girl pleads.
“You may tell me tomorrow, little pony. I would like to see you squirm a little more.” The Mistress professes. “Warrior, make her cum with your fist.”
The asphyxiation and the brutal fisting finally drives the girl over the edge. She climaxes and pisses all over the Mongols arm. The girls wide eyes betray her shock while her hips thrust involuntarily, impaling herself further with the Mongols now lubricated arm.
Early morning. We find the dark haired girl waiting, strapped to a whipping post. The Mistress approaches to address her.
“I believe you are still technically a virgin, my dear. Ponies need not be pure or chaste. Come, we will fix that.”
“No! Please.” The poor girl begs.
“Such petty chastity have no place here. In the end all your high browed kind still moan and cum when all your holes are filled to the brim.” The Mistress stresses
“Mцnke, gather a fourth of the garrison. This pony will be providing some morning entertainment”
“As you wish, Mistress.” Replied the Chieftain.
The Mongols are quick to gather to their Mistress’ side as soon as they are selected for the girls official depucelation.
“Warriors of “The Golden Horde” here is a succulent morsel to slake your appetites. Do with her as you please, but her life still belongs to me.” Their Mistress dictates.
The warriors descend upon the poor girl. They taunt the frightened girl before starting to fondle, pinch and prod her voluptuous curves. They salivate at the prospect of ravaging this delectable creature.
“No!” She screams as she feels the rough, course whip being slid between her legs while callous fingers find their way into her most sensitive portions.
They take the girl to the center of the training yard. There, in full view of the other ponies, she is assaulted repeatedly, forced to accommodate at least three men at a time. The Mongol phallus now spoils her once pristine and chaste orifice. They fill her arse, vagina and throat with the seeds of Mongolian manhood.
Their semen over flow from every opening. The girl gags and chokes, barely able to breath from the thick sticky liquid. But as soon as one group is finished, another takes their place.
By day’s end, the dark haired girl had sexually satisfied nearly 50 men more than twice over. Her every orifice was seeping with semen and her whole body was caked with dirt and Mongol seed.
when night falls, the brunette is finally allowed to rest in her own cell. Her ass and cunt are sore and squishy from Mongol scum. Her whole body aches from the ordeal. She has lost all sense of hope and wonders what more they’re going to do to her. She closes her eyes and tries to dream of her previous life. A life in luxury and splendor. A life far from the squalor of her cell and the pain of her body.
But these dreams are rudely interrupted by the sounds of her cell door opening.
A Mongol warrior enters and at knifepoint, raises the girl’s head to the light. Another person, a woman, approaches to take a closer look. It is the Mistresses apprentice.
“Yes, this one will do.” She muses. “Take her and the other one. They will be suitable for my practice.”
The girl shudders at the woman’s words.
The girl is taken to the main dungeon. They bind her arms once more to her back and her legs as well. The apprentice signals the Mongol to place her on the Iron Horse. He obliges by grasping the girls’ breasts and lifting her onto the horse. The girl weeps as the mans’ powerful hands nearly crush her nipples. She screams madly when he drops her onto the sharpened wedge of the “Iron Horse”. Her body shakes and convulses as her own body weight presses her privates ever deeper on the wedge. Her tormentors are amused at how she straddles the Iron Horse.
Now, a blonde Bohemian girl is placed back to back of the dark haired girl. Their arms and legs are tied to each other. Their necks are tied to a single rope that is then hung on a hook. This partially asphyxiates the two girls and keeps them in an upright state.
Using their legs, they try to lift themselves up from the wedge to relieve the excruciating pain between their thighs and to breath; but as one does this, the other is embedded even more on the wedge. Soon they’re competing with each other, trying to be the first to get some weight off from their tortured privates. And for a moment, they seem like they’re riding the Iron Horse.
“Stop, that!” The apprentice demands. “You two are enjoying yourselves too much.” The two girls can do nothing but obey and sob inconsolably.
“Your breasts are nice and fat, slave. They’ll make wonderful pincushions.” The apprentice exclaims approaching the dark haired girl.
“No! Please, don’t!” Shouts the terrified girl as the woman massages her plump bosoms and presents the needles to torment them with.
The howling screams begin as the apprentice carelessly drills multiple needles into the girls’ defenceless breast. The Bohemian girl suffered and suffered as the apprentice turned each breast into a forest of needles. Nailing them very slowly in the soft, quivering flesh, always looking into the terrified girl’s eyes with the most sadistic grim drawn in her face…
Tired of the needle game, the apprentice opted to use the hot irons.
After carefully removing all the needles from the girl’s breasts, she placed her victim on a special iron wedge post set unusually high. There the girl is set in a sitting position with her coccyx painfully taking the pressure from her weight to the pointed metal wedge. Her legs are spread wide by ropes tied to the post; her arms are also restrained in similar fashion. A neck collar and a large metal screw driven up her anus by several inches fixes her in place. This leaves her teetering on the iron wedge as the apprentice draw nigh with a metal rod emblazoned by the reddish heat of a furnace.
The girls’ terror could not be described as she feels the heat emanating from the hot iron now positioned over her vaginal mound.
“NOOOOOOOOOO!” She shriekes as the burning metal tip slowly begins to touch the hood of her vulva.
The apprentice finds the girls clitoris and starts to burn its tip. The girl is so terrified that she lets loose a stream of piss right on the hot iron causing some steam. The girl’s uncontrolled urination even sprays to the apprentice’s hands.
“Disgusting little whore! I shall have you run through!” The torturer shouts, clearly angered by the girl’s lack of manners.
She positions the hot irons right at the opening of the girl’s vulva. But before she could drive the rod in, the Mistress gestures her to stop. The apprentice obeys and withdraws.
“Do what you wish with the Bohemian girl but this one goes to the Great Khans.” The Mistress explains.
The dark haired girl is removed from the wedge and the Bohemian girl takes her place. A few minutes later everyone could hear the horrific tortured screams of the blonde girl. When morning came a burying cart was seen taking a girls’ body away.
Days turn into weeks, weeks into months as the novice ponies begin to advance in their training. The customary harsh punishments have become routine and discipline is well established in the ranks. Those slow to learn are given the harshest regimens as example to the others.
From time to time some ponies are taken away by new Masters to whom they must serve without question or hesitation until they are resold or are dead.
Some Masters are not satisfied by the flexibility of a particular pony’s posterior and had requested that to be fixed. The Mistress obliges by having the pony’s rear pride open with hot irons. This poor slave writhes in agony, as her anus is burned open for wider entry.
A metal ring would be place in to keep the orifice from closing as physicians tend to the burns. It would take a few weeks for her arse to heal but the new Masters rarely wait that long to take on their prize.
One of the slave masters inspecting the ponies commented that the Great Khan disliked having to exert to much effort in buggering his trophies. The Mistress takes this to heart and brings the two leading pony girls to the dungeon to be fixed. Having more time to modify the pony girls, the Mistress opted to use a fine Christian tool taken from Teutonic Knights.
“I believe they call this a “Pear”. It takes a devious mind to create such an ornate but cruel device.” The Mistress comments. “Don’t worry, I had them wear down the sharp tearing tips. We wouldn’t want to blemish Lord Nevsky’s gifts to the Great Khan.”
“Let’s see, who will be first…Yes, the royal golden girl. The Khan will like you the most.” The Mistress smiles as she toys with the “Pair”, opening and closing it in front of the terrified eyes of the pony girls.
A warrior begins to insert the horrific instrument into the girls well abused posterior. Its’ coarse iron surface scrapes the sensitive membrane walls causing great discomfort and pain. “Please, Mistress. It hurts.” The girl pleads trying to hold back her tears and her humiliated pride.
“It hurts? Wait until he turns the screw, my dear.” Is the the Mistress’ chilly response.
Then the warrior turns the key-like screw.
The girl’s eyes widen as she experiences a pain she has never felt before, especially one so deep within her. She writhes and struggles from her binds as the intrusive device begins to open inside her anus, slowly widening the gape. Each turn of the screw brings ever increasing torrents of pain through the girls ass. Her face is a pallor of shear panic.
At the third turn of the screw she finally lets out a horrible scream. A long agonized piercing cry. A scream of utter distress and total lose. The cry of a woman on the verge of madness.
After letting the “Pear” settle in the slave’s ass for several hours, a warrior takes it out from her distended anus and replaces it with a thick iron bar.
“Aagh! No!” She screams as the warrior forces the metal object deeper into the gape using a heavy mallet.
“We will take it out once a day for you to shit.” The Mistress explains. “Now for our pretty raven hair…”
The Mistress now directs her attention on the slaves’ ornamental requirements. The dark haired girl is the first to suffer the process.
With a ring gag firmly set in her mouth, the girl is sat on to the harlots chair and prepared for the ornamentation. First her nipples, each pulled tightly by pliers then pierced by a long needle at the base. Golden rings are then placed on each pierced nipple. As the girl breaths heavily from her suffering breasts, the rings could be seen glistening whimsically in the candle lit dungeons.
With the same heavy pliers, the man reaches into the girl’s mouth through the ring gag taking firm hold of her tongue. He pulls hard at it. So hard in fact that the poor girl thinks it is completely torn off. She is reassured, albeit painfully, that it is still there when the man drives a needle through it.
Now, with a special golden bolt, her tongue has been made into an instrument of pleasure for her new Masters.
“Be proud , Pony!” The Mistress commands. “Soon you will be the property of the Great Khan. To have the privilege of being used and abused as he sees fit.”
Still quite sore from the piercing, the Mistress takes the girl out of the dungeons. Dragging her by her nipple ring, the Mistress takes the girl to the pony stables to be finally fitted into her harness and bridal attire.
“Today you are no longer a novice pony.” The Mistress says with pride. “Now you are worthy of ownership by the most powerful man on earth.”
“You see, my own mother was once a member of the Russian aristocracy of Raizan.” The Mistress begins her tale to a captivated listener. “She was quite striking and envied by most. Then the Mongol Hordes came and swept across all of the Land of the Rus. She could easily have been raped and killed with her entire family if not for her dexterous tongue and keen ability to satisfy men. Soon enough she was pregnant by one of the lesser Chiefs.”
“Remember, Pony. The Golden Horde are warriors without equal.” The Mistress addresses the girl. “They have laid waste to the armies of the Russian Tzars and crushed all other armies that dared to oppose them. They are quick to the kill as well as the fuck. They are unforgiving and pitiless. They have been known to slaughter whole cities if such a ruthless demonstration suited them.”
“Do not doubt my words for I do not speak from here say but from experience.” She explains looking some what distant.
The following day the sounds of heavy horses are heard from outside the walls of the stone fortress. The commonly stoic Mongol guards appear agitated and apprehensive. A signal from the battlements bring the guards scurrying to open the massive gates for the waiting guest.
The Great Khan has arrived.
The ponies are soon lined up for the scrutiny of the new Master. The two prominent ponygirls are quick to capture the Khans’ attention.
“Those two.” He points turning to the Mistress of the fortress.
“Excellent choice, Oh Great Khan. These are exceptional girls of Royal descent.” She begins their introduction. “The fair haired girl is the Lady Katarina Von Zalza, the illegitimate daughter of the Grand Master of the Templar Knights whom your highness have faced in battle. The raven haired girl is none other than the Lady Beatrix of Brienne niece to the German King Frederick Hohenstaufen. Also rumored to be in fact his illegitimate daughter.
Lady Beatrix of Brienne has always been unlucky with her affairs. Her unfortunate liaison with a dashing Knight of the Teutonic order brought great shame to her family, the house of Hohenstaufen. As punishment, she was stripped of her titles and banished to a harsh convent for almost a year. But with the aid of her estranged cousin, Lady Katarina, she escaped and continued to pursue her affections for the Christian Knight despite the threats from her family.
Her misfortune finally came to a head when she was captured by Prince Nevsky’s troops after the battle of Peipus along with her cousin and confidant, Lady Katarina. They were eventually sent to the Mongols as an appeasement to the Great Khan. Their captors were harsh and never lacking in perverse cruelty.
Upon their arrival to the training Fortress for slave ponies of the Khans, they are made to suffer many indignities, even in rest they made certain the young ladies never felt an ounce of comfort.
When the Mistress of the Fortress finally ringed Lady Beatrix’ nipples for her initiation, her breast were subjected to ever more atrocious maltreatment’s.
Lady Beatrix now finds preferable even the inhuman punishments she received at the convent. There, her ordeal usually meant an occasional beating after prayers or being suspended upside down over a dung pit in the servant quarters.
She even finds preferable the suspension over a furnace, the most severe punishments the nuns could inflict in order to force her to renounce her love for her beloved Knight. Now her life hinges on her ability to endure the ever escalating cycles of pain, abuse and humiliations at the hands of her Mistress and captors.
The Lady Katarina Von Zalza had a very different story, but alas no less tragic. Being born the daughter of the Grand Master of the Templars through a highly illicit affair with a royal courtesan, the Lady Katarina was virtually banished to a life of solitude by her father who intended to keep her existence a secret to the outside world. In the few times she was allowed in society circles, she would be introduced as a distant niece to King Frederick and cousin to Lady Beatrix’. In time Lady Katarina and Lady Beatrix developed a rapport and became friends and confidants.
Besides being born the bastard daughter of Von Zalza, the Lady Katarina was also doubly cursed by both striking beauty and a particularly gracious figure, all in the right places. This of course troubled her father greatly when she came of age and had to place loyal and celibate guards around her. She was now attracting lustful glares and lurid whispers from all the men who had the fortune of glimpsing her.
But tragedy struck when she unsuspecting caught the eye of a particularly foul individual called Reynald, a Knight (speaking loosely of course) form the Holy Lands. He was having an audience with the Grand Master regarding a request for soldiers bound for Palestine. The request was granted and sanctioned by Rome. The delighted Reynald took this opportunity to celebrate by taking liberties in Lady Katarinas’ chambers after bribing the guards. Katarina protested but Reynald, being a man of loathsome character persisted.
The Lady Katarina struggled against the larger man and as if drawing strength from her Templar roots she was able to push back Reynald tripping him on the bed. But as misfortune would have it, as Reynald fell, he did not loosen his grip on the lady. As a consequence, Katarina fell on top of Reynald and was subsequently impaled on his very erect member.
Lady Katarina was both in shock and pain as Reynald’s penis drove deep into her arse. She shrieked in agony as she was nearly split in half by Reynalds’ massive erection.
Taking a fair lesson form Katarinas’ struggle, Reynald took a moment to insure the Lady’s compliance by more restrictive means. Taking some course rope, he hurriedly ties Katarinas’ arms to a stone column. With his prize now properly secured he ingratiates himself upon her body with utter abandon, leaving no orifice unravaged. This vile act would mark the beginning of Lady Katarina Von Zalzas’ downward spiral into the world of dipravity and humiliation.
The incident was an outrage and a direct insult to the Grand Master but he could do little without revealing the truth about his daughter. Meanwhile, his daughter was inconsolable as everything valued to a woman was taken from her. She nearly went mad. Taking measures to limit the damage, Katarina was sent by his father to a convent to rest and heal. But the crafty Reynald ever the opportunist took great interest in the girls plight. His spies revealed the true nature of Katarina and hatched a plan worthy of their master.
Katarina was secretly spirited to a different convent predetermined by Reynald. She will be his pawn.
This convents’ head mistress was Sister Hilaria. A fair looking woman. She was but a young novice when she had the misfortune of meeting Reynald. She too fell under his cruel cudgels. But still young and not knowing any better, she perceived this mans’ assaults as a kind of affection. She began pining for him and agreed to be his agent in the hopes of gaining his favors. Now she is tasked to be Katarina’s watchful steward.
Sister Hilaria was not blind to the fact that Lady Katarina was an exceptional beauty. She knew this woman could one day take Reynald from her. Enraged with seething jealousy, she would take great offense in Katarina’s tiniest transgression. So, more often than not, the Lady Katarina would find herself under the whips Sister Hilaria.
It is the hot summer month of August, in a special chamber for troublesome novices, Katarina is found hanging upside down, reading the good book, naked under the whips of Sister Hilaria who had also stripped down from the terrible heat.
The hot summer months brought a constant stream of misery for Lady Katarina as the sticky hot weather kept Sister Hilaria in a venomous mood. But Sister Hilaria was in no means her only source of torment. There was also the repugnant and dwarfish Pestullio, the grounds keeper and assistant to Sister Hilaria. This vile toad of a man was the scourge of the convent among other things. His very presence brought shivers to all novices and rumours of his hidden deformities run rampant. Should any novice lose favor, it is Pestullio’s hand they fear the most.
Lady Katarina has become familiar with Pestullio’s cruelty, as often, Sister Hilaria’s tortures would be assisted by this Dwarf. Every morning for penitence, Pestullio would drag Katarina from her bed in chains and forced to walk the rounds of the convent.
“Careful, Milady. You wouldn’t want to trip and break that pretty little face. Our Master would no longer be pleased with you if you were in anyway disfigured.” Says the dwarf, shoving his staff at Katarina’s neck as he drags the stumbling girl around the convents grounds.
As they pass the Priory, Pestullio would point to a tall metal rod fixed vertically from the floor. “See that, Milady. Sister Hilaria likes to call it the “Iron Stick” but I prefer to name it the “Trolls Cock”. You’ll love riding that. The site is quite amusing. I hear fair maidens who have taken a ride on the Trolls Cock are never the same again.
Katarina shudders at the though.
A day later a messenger brought word to Sister Hilaria that her master, Lord Reynald was coming to visit her ward. The good sister was of course beset with jealousy and plotted incessantly on Lady Katarina’s person.
She decides to punish her as if she were a harlot, by means of the “Iron Stick”, Pestullio’s favorite. Hoping the girl’s distended features would not be in Reynalds taste.
Two novices were sent to prepare Lady Katarina for her ordeal. To keep the young novices from enjoying too much the misfortune of their colleague, the novices were stripped naked from the waste up to shame them as they shackle Katarina.
The novices assist in lifting Katarina over the intimidating device. But as soon as the cold metal touched her soft flesh, Katarina panics and screams for mercy.
“Please, Sister Hilaria. What ever sin I have committed, I am truly sorry. Please forgive me!” She pleads as the novices hesitate.
Pestullio, not wanting to miss a good show quickly started beating the novices with his staff, forcing them to let go of Katarina and letting her slide onto the “Iron Stick”.
Katarina was too shocked to scream at first as her mind grasps the nature of her agony. The stretching of her orifice to near breaking points and the strange fullness deep within her womb. But the undeniably excruciating pain eventually overwhelms all reason and Katarina lets out a shrill desperate cry.
Sister Hilaria could barely contain her glee.
The novices retreat, sobbing from the scene as Pestullio takes a closer inspection of Katarina’s impalement. He takes hold of her shapely rump a literally drives her down into the bulbous head of the stick. She lets out a horrific scream as her body feels the cold bulbous end drill deeper into her womb.
Some of the novices turned away from the scene and left the priory altogether, others, with more questionable character stayed to watch the cruel spectacle.
Not satisfied with Lady Katarina’s suffering, Pestullio takes his fat, sharp nailed fingers and thrust them in the girls arse. He force two, then three, then four fingers into her puckered opening. Katarina, now hoarse from all the screaming could do no more than to shed torrents of tears as the loathsome dwarf cruelly disfigure her pristine anus to the delight of Sister Hilaria and the less demure novices.
After this experience, Lady Katarina swore to take matters into her own hands and fled the convent in the cover of darkness. And learning that her friend Beatrix was in similar circumstances also aided her in her flight.
Lady Katarina wanted to return home but realized that Lord Reynald’s men would probably be waiting for her along the way. Beatrix on the other hand demanded to go east into the Rus lands to follow her beloved Knight. She was very adamant about her pursuits and in the end Katarina relented. They quietly shadowed the Teutonic Crusaders as they tore a bloody path through the harsh Russian landscape. They soon became witness to the unchristian acts these warriors of god were well inclined in doing. The slaughter of both Pagan and Orthodox Christians was all too much to bear for poor Lady Beatrix. She turned her horse towards the next town to warn them, Lady Katarina had no choice but to follow. But they were too late, they have run into a foraging detachment of Crusaders who had just finished burning and pillaging the town.
The Knights from the Teutonic Order recognized the Lady Beatrix of Brienne and Lady Katarina. Despite the fact that Lady Beatrix was stripped of her titles she was still accorded preferential treatment and was not unduly harmed. Lady Katarina on the other hand, being known as the illegitimate daughter of the Master of Templars, a rival order was given a much harsher reception.
“So this is the bastard daughter of Master Von Zalza. You should be ashamed. A daughter of such a pious man to have a lascivious affair with Lord Reynald. You bring shame to all the Crusading Orders with your whoring ways.” Shouts the Knight as he begins to fondle Katarina’s bosoms.
“It was not an affair! That bastard Reynald raped me!” Katarina exclaims.
“Indeed. With a body like yours, who could blame him, right men.” Mocks the Knight.
The women were taken to the Crusader’s encampment and were separated. Lady Beatrix found her beloved knight and threw herself at the bewildered warrior. The Knight properly castigates Beatrix on her inappropriate behavior but otherwise gave her a warm welcome.
Lady Katarina was not so fortunate; lacking anyone to defend her honor she was taken to a makeshift gallows and put to the stocks. Every stitch of clothing was stripped from her body as the crusaders watched and gawked at her nakedness. The ranking officers among the Teutons were the first to take liberties with Lady Katarinas vulnerable person. They did not hesitate one bit as they promptly sodomized her in front of the other men.
Lady Katarina cried from both pain and shame. She knew very well that there was no more hiding of her indignities. News of her shattered honor will no doubt spread among the crusading orders and to the ears of her father. She could not bear the though of such shame. So she silently endured the withering abuse as she contemplated ending her own life. She felt she could go no lower than where she was now. The Lady Katarina was so sadly mistaken.
When the Crusading army was decidedly defeated at Peipus, the two women were left behind. With little knowledge of their surroundings and lacking a good horse to spirit them away, they fell into the hands of Prince Alexander Nevsky of Novgorod and became token gifts for their Mongol overlords.
Alas in the end, the Lady Katarina found herself lacking the courage to kill herself for fear of the consequences in the after life. So, like a good Christian girl, she somberly accepted all the tortures and torments her new masters inflicted upon her. She has finally accepted her cruel plight.
She was now the slave of the great Khan Hulagu, a man of ill temper and murderous passions. He had already killed off his previous batch of slaves and was intent on replacing them before his Horde begin their conquest of the Middle East.
“Hmm, I like this one. Her breasts are fat and jiggles well with the rings. Ready her for a little jaunt about the fortress but dry her out first.” The Khan commands
A couple of Mongol warriors take Katarina aside. They take a large phallic shaped wooden rod, wrapped in course canvas and shoves in into her vaginal opening, twisting it as it went in. The sudden shock of the intrusive device bring out a pained scream from Katarina’s lips. Despite the regularity of these abuses, she could never get used to it.
“Stop squirming or I’ll flay off your tits.” The other Mongol commands as he takes his knife and cradles one of Katarinas breasts on the edge of the blade.
The touch of cold steel quiets the trembling Katarina as she endures the scrapping of the dry canvas inside her sensitive privates. But her legs were beginning to buckle from the sensation so the Mongols opted to leash her to a whipping frame for the duration of their task.
In Katarina’s mind, her rape by the wooden rod seemed to last forever. When it finally ended she gave a cautious sigh of relief. Unfortunately for poor Katarina, the Mongols were not finished.
Now properly dried, another Mongol taking an iron thong, pinches and pulls at Katarina’s bare pubic mound. She nearly faints from agony as a long sharp needle pierces one side of her pubis, perforating right through to the other side.
Satisfied with the piercing, Khan Hulagu presents a large golden ring. The warrior takes the ring and runs it through Katarinas throbbing pubis. The ordeal was so excruciating that Katarina could not help but let out a distressing wail.
The Mongols finally presents Lady Katarina to Khan Hulagu with both nipples and pubis now adorned with trinkets of precious metals. A hint of satisfaction appears on the Mongol Chiefs weathered face.
“Well, my bountiful slave. We will soon see if your value is greater than the sum of the gold that adorns your flesh. If you are found lacking, I’ll have your limbs broken and your ass mounted by my favorite stallion.”
Those words brought a pallor of dread to Katarina’s hidden face. She knows very well, these are not idle threats. The glitter of the golden rings betray the trembling fear now coursing through her body.
“But first I will need a new whip. This one is old and withered.” Exclaimed Khan Hulagu as he turns towards the Mistress.
The Mistress respectfully takes the whip from Hulagu’s hands and inspects the instrument.
” I see, My Lord. It has grown soft and smooth from too much use.” She voices her observation.
She signals to Mцngke to furnish the Great Khan with a new whip. Khan Hulagu examines the craftsmanship of this new implement and makes a few practice swipes at the air, listening to its tell tale song.
” It splits the air quite nicely. But the only true test of a whip is by its use.”
“Would you care to test it on the back of this slave, My Lord.” The Mistress suggests, pointing to a trembling blond novice, strapped to a whipping post totally nude.
“Hah! That is no way to test a real whip.” He mused. ” Build her a frame of good timber and ready my strongest rider. I will show you how to test the quality of a whip.”
In an open field outside the walls the Mongols hurriedly built the frame from which the naked blond girl is propped and splayed out, suspended with legs spread wide in a fashion similar to the tanning of leather hides. Her joints aching as her trembling body is stretched in a rack like manner. She pleads to the Mistress for mercy and relief from her painful racking. The Mistress only nodded in approval. The girl was now ready to receive the terrible blows of the new whip.
The Mongols gather to watch the coming spectacle
The Mongol rider takes the whip from the Khan and gallops 100 yards from the splayed girl. His mount is agitated and very eager. With a signal from Hulagu, the Mongol charges at the girl.
Even under the leather hoods, the ponygirls heard the unfamiliar thud of the whip. It sounded more like a mace hitting a wine gourd. Then they heard a god awful scream. A scream so shrill that they thought it was a wounded animals howl.
The girl on the frame was bellowing from agony. The whip has struck a breast and it nearly popped open from the devastating blow. Blood could be seen trickling from it. But the test of the whip was no where near complete. The rider was racing from behind and unleashed two swift blows on her back and buttocks.
The girl cries out with all her strength. She desperately wanted to faint or die rather than be subjected further to this torture.
Now the Mongol rider was charging from the front again. This time he plants one single withering blow on both breasts right at the level of the nipples. This time one breast literally spit open, spraying blood and bits of flesh.
The girl was now in shock and her throat had gone hoarse from screaming.
The rider turns to Khan Hulagu. The Khan gestures him to continue. He does so, this time he charged again from the front and delivers a morbid blow at the girls clef. Almost immediately both blood and piss spilt on the ground at the foot of the frame.
The Mongol rider made many more passes on the poor girl. With every pass, an explosion of blood and flesh. There was no more screaming to be heard only the sound of the blunt blows of the whip.
No one knows exactly at what point the girl gave up the ghost, but by the time the rider had made his seventh pass the girl was inanimate.
The Khan finally signals the rider to stop, knowing there was no joy to be had from beating a corpse.
He is handed the blood soaked whip and looks at the hanging pieces of flesh that was once a girl. He nods in satisfaction.
Khan Hulagu, satisfied with the performance of the whip, returns to his new ponygirl, Katarina who was now being readied for her first jaunt.
The ponygirl is forced to straddle the swivelling guide shaft of a specially built chariot. The guide shaft was tipped with a carving of a laugh face, plated in gold. A 6″ long, 2″ diameter steel studded rod becomes the anchor point, penetrating her vagina and fixing the girls position along the shaft just behind the laughing face. A hook at the back of the laughing face clasps the ring on the girls pubis to keep the rod and shaft from slipping off.
The Khan commands fifty men to take positions around the fortress 500 paces apart, each with whips at the ready. Their orders were to strike at the ponygirl as the chariot passed and to be especially harsh when striking at her nipples and clef.
The chariot was made of strong oak with the weight of the guide shaft being born solely by her throbbing pubic mound. The pain was so great that she could barely notice the intrusion of the studded wooden rod reaming her vagina.
Katarina was finally relieved from the terrible stress when Khan Hulagu stepped on the chariot, countering the weight of the shaft as well as driving the studied rod full length into Katarina’s orifice. Katarina buckled a bit when the tip of the rod hit her cervix but she was quick to regain composure.
The chariot’s reigns were then affixed to Katarina’s nipple rings. Blinded by the hood she would be led by the painful tugs on her nipples.
A lash of the whip to the buttocks and the tug of the reigns begin Katarina’s jaunt.
They circle the fortress with Katarina under the constant lash of both Hulagu and any Mongol warrior they came upon. Katarina feared more the whips of the lesser Mongols as their blows more often struck her tender, swollen nipples already bearing the weight of the reigns.
The following day, Khan Hulagu and his entourage prepare to depart with the new ponygirls as well as a retinue of novices for his chiefs and warriors. The slaves, all kept naked, are shackled with heavy wooden yokes. They’re heads were covered with thick leather hoods that kept them deaf and blind. Ring gags were fastened to their mouth, keeping it wide open and ready to take in any man’s cock that wished to be serviced. They were guided to their places by the prodding of a warriors pointed mace and the occasional stinging of a breast whip. At anytime during the journey a warrior need only to tip them over and he can ingratiate himself on the girls.
Khan Hulagu’s caravan will join up with the great horde in a few days. The journey is long , many battles to be fought and much blood to be spilled. The Mongol invasion of the Middle East now begins.