The Mayor's Daughter: Draft Pony Read online

  The television passed out of sight as she pressed forward, though she could still hear its sound. She heard the edited question and answer session, and her own seemingly enthusiastic reasons for why she was here now and being treated so. But no one would really believe it, would they? No one could honestly think that she was doing this of her own free will.

  When the television came into view again, the picture had changed. She saw that it was a local news program. The picture showed the burned wreckage of a car at the bottom of a ravine, and the headline read “Missing Nineteen Year Old’s Body Found.” She slowed as she approached the screen, drawn in by the scene. A reporter stepped into view at the top of the cliff.

  “In a tragic ending to what has been a trying story for this town, the body of Jessica Miller, daughter of Mayor Benjamin Miller, was found today, when three local boys discovered this car while playing in this abandoned granite quarry. Since her disappearance was reported, the town has been searching for some sign of her, holding out hope that she was still alive.”

  The scene changed to a picture of the steps of the Town Hall. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw her father standing behind the podium. He looked haggard and unshaven, as if he had not been sleeping. She wanted to cry out to him, to tell him that she was all right. Cameras flashed as he began to speak. She came to a stop as she watched, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to keep watching if she walked any further.

  “No father, no parent, should ever have to outlive their children. Since receiving this news this morning, all I’ve been able to ask myself is what I could have done differently. What could I have done to help save my precious daughter?”

  Jessica screamed into the gag as she cried, as if she could somehow reach him in his moment of pain, to tell him that she was alive, and not to give up the search. Standing in the leather harness, boots, and mittens felt all the more confining as she watched the television. She struggled desperately against them in frustration. And then her blood chilled as her father began to speak again.

  “Knowing that you missed the signs is the hardest part. I remember the last conversation that we had before she left to drive away on that fatal night. I had set up a birthday party for her… for my little girl’s nineteenth… and then she found out that there wasn’t going to be alcohol there. She flew into a rage, screaming about it. I tried to calm her down, to talk some sense into her. I’d never seen her like that. But she stormed out before I could stop her.”

  Jessica stood stunned as she watched tears begin to form in her father’s eyes. There had never been such a conversation. She wasn’t a heavy drinker, and he knew it. Why would he say these things? And then cold realization struck her. He was making up these stories because, as her captor had told her, he was really responsible for her disappearance. Utter hopelessness overtook her in that moment, and she choked and sobbed around the harsh metallic bit in her mouth while her body spasmed. The scene changed again, back to the reporter waiting above the crash.

  “This stunning news comes on the heels of Mayor Miller’s announcement that he is throwing his hat into the ring in the upcoming Gubernatorial elections.”

  The blinding pain of the cattle prod caught her off guard as she stood enraptured by the program on the television. She staggered forward, losing her grip on the bit as she screamed in pain, feeling it plunge back into her throat. She heaved and gagged, struggling to step forward again, reacting too slowly as the prod struck her again. Screaming in agony, she stepped forward, throwing herself into the traces as she gagged and dry heaved, the bit still deep in her throat.

  Fighting back into control, she struggled to remain ahead of the prod, falling back into the rhythm of the work, focusing on that need in order to try and drown out the thoughts that raged in her mind.

  Chapter Twelve

  Special Request

  Jessica strained desperately to stay ahead of the prod’s wicked touch, but her fatigue proved to be too much for her. During her long labor, its metal points found her three more times, the second causing her to piss herself again, and the third nearly causing her to pass out. Her only respite from the grueling labor and her exhaustion was the fact that the television did not turn on again throughout the remainder of the ordeal. When her captor finally returned, she collapsed in the traces as her body trembled uncontrollably, crying and unable to support herself any longer.

  “Such a hard day for my little filly.”

  Jessica nodded, sucking deep, shuddering breaths around the nasty bit between her sobs. Finishing her release from the wheel, he wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her in close as they began to walk toward the post room. She didn’t resist him, could barely think, as she walked on wobbly legs, pressing against him for support.

  “Heeesh… Uhnnkkkie… Eeehhh,” Jessica struggled to plead for release from behind the bit without unclenching her jaw.

  “We have a special treat this afternoon, Princess.” He gave her asscheek a playful squeeze as they walked. “One of your biggest online fans paid for a special request, and you’re going to make his little fantasy come true.”

  She looked up at him with wide eyes as they drew closer to the post room, her stomach fluttering at the thought of what might be in store for her. Her mind reeled at the reminder that people were watching her suffering, paying to watch this sick bastard do these horrible things to her. Her mind felt fuzzy, almost disconnected from her body, as they entered the post room. The smell of the food waiting in the trough, so unappetizing before, sent her stomach into spasms of hunger. So intent was her longing look toward the waiting water and porridge that her captor had to physically turn her to see the little room’s newest addition.

  “After you fulfill our special friend’s request, I’ll give you some time to eat, Princess,” he told her as he lead her to a wooden contraption that rested on the floor next to the post. Unpainted and roughly nailed together, it was in the shape of a dollhouse’s roof. Chains led from the four bottom corners of the thing up to the rafters above, though they only loosely dangled as it sat on the straw-covered floor. Familiar metal rings were set into the strange thing at various points.

  “It’s called a horse, Princess,” he spoke softly to her, as if answering the question that dominated her mind, “and it’s going to be very trying for you, I can assure you.”

  Jessica felt her stomach knotting up at his words, exacerbated by her ravenous hunger and the icy terror that began to fill her. With a hand on the inside of her thigh, sticky from her earlier accident, he lifted one of her legs over the roof-like thing so that she stood straddling it. Squatting down next to her, he lifted the loose end of a chain locked to a ring on the floor and brought it to her ankle, locking it in place to the ring that waited there. Her breath quickened, hissing around the bit in her mouth, and she shifted on her feet as she began to get a picture of what was coming.

  “Heeesssshhh…. Ohhhnnnk,” she sputtered around the metallic bit, her drool running down over her chin as she cried softly.

  Moving around her without responding to her garbled plea, her captor chained the other ankle to a waiting ring on the other side of the horse. She tugged helplessly at the short chains, her hoof boots clopping against the floor. He walked away from her toward a winch on one wall as she sobbed, hot tears spilling down her cheeks and onto her bare heaving breasts.

  She screamed in terror as he began to turn the winch, accompanied by the ominous sounds of chains moving. She watched the chains to the corners of the horse in front of her go taut and then the wooden contraption began to rise as the clanking sound continued. She yanked furiously at the chains on her ankles, strained to free her useless hands pulled up behind her, but to no avail. Her bonds held her securely in their tight grip as she watched the horse begin to rise between her legs. Sucking in air through her nose, she struggled to avoid hyperventilating.

  Jessica tensed as the wooden sides made contact with her inner thighs, squeezing her legs tight against the wood to try and resist
its inexorable climb. And still it rose, up and up until it lifted the toes of her boots off the ground, the roofline of the thing pressing against the lips of her pussy. Even with her thighs pressed hard to the sloping sides of the roof, the pain was terrible. She cried out in agony, throwing her head back and nearly losing her jaw’s grip on the metal bit as she suffered. Her thighs quivered with the exertion of their tight press against the wood after their long day of work.

  “Let me help you get… comfortable,” her captor spoke in her ear, standing behind her suddenly with his hands resting on her hips. She grunted in pain, panting rapidly through her nose as his hands moved to her nether lips, lifting her slightly off the wood. She pressed against him as the pressure on her pussy lessened, and then felt his fingers sliding along those lips, slipping between them and spreading them. Trembling, she struggled to remain still and to maintain the grip of her thighs on the sides as he placed her back down with her lips spread, the unbearable pain made worse by even the slightest motion of her body.

  “You are a delight to watch, Princess,” her captor practically purred as he removed his hands from her body, increasing her need to support herself with her weary legs. “This scene is going to make me a fortune.”

  Sobbing, Jessica closed her eyes tightly, trying to push aside everything else in the world but her attention to keeping her thighs from giving out on her. She knew it was hopeless. She could feel them beginning to falter as she heard the sounds of a camera shutter snapping, but struggled to maintain regardless. In this dark, terrible moment, she was surprised to discover inside herself that a glimmer of hope somehow remained. That tiny fragment of sanity, buried beneath seemingly endless layers of despair, called out to her to fight as long as she could manage, as if it would perish beneath even the smallest surrender.

  Even with her thighs working to their best, the pain to her pussy felt like a knife driving up inside her. The cruel point of the roof drove hard against her most sensitive flesh, impaling her mercilessly. Slick with sweat and bone-weary, her thighs began to give out and she screamed as the pain grew worse, more focused and intense as it stabbed her wickedly. A long, mewling sound escaped her, born of agony.

  “Just a little longer, Princess,” he whispered, almost reverently, while he continued to snap pictures. “You’re doing so great.”

  Body wracked with sobs, Jessica came to rest fully against the edge of the roof, her thighs finally giving way entirely. Her legs spread out to the side, balancing precariously, she opened her tear-filled eyes to gaze pleadingly at her captor. The torture was maddening, her mind threatening to shut down. Her entire being wanted nothing more than to retreat and never return. Quivering visibly, she tried to speak behind the bit but could only sputter helplessly. Her eyes widened as he lowered the camera, letting it dangle from a strap on his neck as if he were some sick, twisted tourist, and then lifted his other hand to reveal that he was holding that long rod. Shaking her head, she bucked desperately against the horse, the motion drilling it harder against her as she struggled futilely.

  “Now, this, Princess, was not a part of the request.” He grinned as he looked without mercy into her pleading eyes. “This is just for me.”

  Without a word, he brought the rod down hard across her left breast. The searing pain made her jump, bringing her down harder against the biting edge of the roof. Crying, she squirmed against the wood, trying to lean back to relieve the pressure and crying out as the rod lashed out again at her other breast, causing her to jerk forward and grind against the roofline. Her flesh felt raw, burning with pain as she rocked against the wood. He moved quickly behind her, bringing the lash down twice more, once to each globe of her ass, perched above the cruel wood. She strained against the tight leather mittens behind her back, tugging at the locks that held them to the harness as she was consumed with the pain.

  She was shocked when she sensed the thing between her legs lowering, her mind blurry with agony. Lowered back onto her hoofed feet, she was able to lift herself from the wood on trembling legs as she choked on her cries. She could still feel the wicked press of it between her legs even after it had come to rest on the floor. Without ceremony, her captor unlocked her ankles from the floor rings and then clipped a chain between them. While she struggled to recover, he dragged her after him back to the post room, stumbling with her ankles hobbled.

  “You can eat and drink your fill. You can relieve yourself in the bucket next to your food if you like,” he growled in her ear, and she sensed some anger in his voice, though could not fathom what had caused it. “If I hear your voice, you’ll sleep on the horse tonight.”

  Finished with his threat, he released the bands that held the bit in her mouth, letting it hang from her tear-stained cheek. Roughly, he threw her to the ground, and she cried out as she landed hard on her shoulder, sliding across the rough straw until her cheek nearly rested against the wooden trough. Jessica heard a click and felt a tug on her ankle, turning to see him rising after he locked her ankle to a chain that lead to the heavy wooden post.

  “When I return, I will clean you for your next… endeavor,” he spoke ominously as he walked from the room.

  Chapter Thirteen

  New Labor

  Jessica woke without realizing she’d fallen asleep, still lying in the scratchy hay on the floor of the post room. The room was dark now, and she looked about quickly as her eyes adjusted to it, seeking any sign that she was not alone. Her only companions in the dim room, however, were the ever-present red lights of the video cameras. She rose slowly up onto her knees before the wooden troughs, her heavy boots clattering on the floor as she got them beneath her. As she tried once more to free her mittened hands from where they were held up uncomfortably behind her back, she wondered how long she’d been asleep.

  It felt as though she’d been asleep for some time, judging by the fact that, in spite of her continuing restraint, she felt refreshed. Without any way of knowing how long she’d have before her captor’s return, she lowered her face to the porridge waiting in its wooden host. It was hard to get her lips into the gruel with the thick posture collar around her neck, and she had to slurp at it as best she could. The dull sludge sated her hunger, and she forced herself to eat until she could handle no more, realizing that she had no idea how long it would be before she would eat again. That simple thought brought fresh tears to her eyes, and they dripped down her nose into the water trough as she drank her fill. She tried to think of anything but her utter reliance on her kidnapper, but was consumed by it.

  “You can’t do this to me!” she screamed through her tears as wracking sobs overtook her, leaning forward against the trough.

  Jessica Miller was dead to the world, she realized, and replaced by the fictional Sierra. Her only contact with the outside world now came through the sick bastards that paid to see what her captor did to her. In their minds, she was here willingly, thanks to the little introduction she’d helped him make. She focused on that thought, trying to find hope in it. She had contact with the outside world. People saw her, and heard her. Maybe someone would recognize her.

  But who would recognize her like this? Who did she know that would possibly be looking for something like this on the web? Even if they were looking, would they even conceive that this could really be the Jessica Miller they knew? No, it wasn’t going to happen by chance. But, if she could find some way to slip something past her captor that could let them know that her willingness was a lie, she might be able to find a way free of this hell. She focused on that with all of her will.

  Rising from the trough onto wobbly legs, she turned her body to look with trepidation at the metal bucket that sat next to it on the ground. It looked just like the one in which he’d tossed her clothes on that first night, and she approached it sheepishly, as if it were a living thing that would attack her. She hated the thought of using it, but her bladder ached insistently, and she questioned whether she would ever see a real toilet again. The chain from her ankle gave her
just enough slack that she could straddle it, and she carefully lowered herself into a squat over it as her thighs trembled with the exertion. She had to keep contact with the bucket on the insides of her legs in order to know where it was, unable to look down with the collar holding her neck securely in place.

  Jessica blushed crimson with shame as the sharp sound of her urine against the tin bucket filled the room. She tried to adjust herself to minimize the light splatter of it that she felt against her flesh, but squatting in the precarious boots was enough of a challenge, and she was forced to suffer it. She sighed softly with relief, despite her humiliation, as the pressure on her bladder finally faded away. The smell of it mixed with the odor from her body and she wrinkled her nose. She felt disgusting, like some sort of dirty beast.

  Suddenly, a brilliant light flashed on above her, glaring down into her eyes. She jerked with surprise at the sudden intense glow, losing her balance as she pulled on her bonds. Toppling backwards, she hit the ground on her bound hands. The bucket fell over with a clatter of metal as she struck it with one of her boots as she fell, and she cried out in misery as she felt the hot piss on her bare legs. Struggling up onto her knees in a pool of the vile liquid, she saw her captor approaching, dressed once more in all black, and carrying a black leather belt in his hands.

  “Did you have another accident, Sierra?” he asked, his grin standing out starkly against his black mask. “You’re such a filthy pony.”