Warning: story evil as fuck!
Illustrations coming in soon >:3 I will make myself a horse for it, buyt if anyone has a feral horse to put into this hell, and feel like sponsoring it, send me a PM >;3
Feral, Intense torture. Non-cons.
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The stablehand thought it was all quite excessive, but he wasn’t paid to think. His task at the ranch was to punish ill-behaved animals for as long and as intensely as their owners commanded, and that’s what he was going to do.
This stallion in particular had thrown his ryder one too many times, and would no longer be used as a mount. Instead, he was to remain bound in this small room, and punished two hours in the morning, one hour at noon, and two more hours in the evening. During the rest of the time, it was to be in great distress and discomfort in some way. The owner figured that having a live camera recording the beast’s suffering would bring in enough cash to justify its existence.
To ensure years of service, the stablehand had established a simple routine that had worked well for 3 months now.
The beast slept with his guts filled to the brim with a mixture of ranch sauce, poison ivy juice and salt water. A thick head-sized butt plug roped firmly in place ensured the liquid did not spill out. It could only pee now via a catheter that was left to fill up throughout the night and well into the day. Its balls wore electrified pads that delivered low-voltage discharges; they were not painful individually, but hours of constant stimulation left its sack in tense agony to such an extent that a flick of the fingers had the horse twisting violently on its restraints.
Its dick had been pierced at the head with a ring, so that it could be bound to a ring on the floor and left out of its shaft. Bullet vibrators were fastened all across its length and kept vibrating at all times. A rod ensured the beast would not be able to cum, no matter how aroused it was. By now, there was a constant pool of pre-cum between its front legs, which they were forced to clean up every few hours to avoid slipping on it.
One of its four legs was stretched to one side painfully each evening, while the other three remained bound to the four posts that kept them immobilized most of the time. The stretched out limb was whipped 10 times in the evening session to soften it up, and again to start off the morning session, when the muscles were twitching and cramped up. The first week, the poor beast was always favoring the other limbs, but by now, they were all in constant pain and could only endure the same agony no matter how it tried to distribute its weight.
A set of harnesses prevented the beast from falling, and it had learned to hang on them to take the weight off its suffering legs, so the stablehand had been prompted to adjust them in such a way that it pulled at the beast’s swollen stomach. It wasn’t enough to cause harm, but it hurt enough to make it struggle frantically to recover its footing whenever its strength failed it.
The first torture session began at 9am and through to 11am. The forms of torment varied, but the first 30 minutes were the same: a thorough whipping on the one limb, then the ass, the back and the face. Another 20 minutes were dedicated to putting a cattle-prod against the horse’s balls and over-stimulated dick. From there, it depended on the day.
On Mondays, sacks of grain of 100Kgs were put into the beast’s back. A painful bit was forced into its mouth and fastened taut . A strap connected to the reins was fastened so that its neck remained arched inwards as much as possible, forcing the beast to strain for each intake of breath. Electrified pads were wrapped around the beast’s ankles. The machine was programmed to deliver a sharp discharge to each foot every 5 seconds.
Once all the tack was set up, the stablehand released the beast’s legs and turned the machine on. Soon, the heaving horse was “dancing”, trotting in place and raising its legs high in a rhythmic way. The man would stand behind it, and pull sharply at the reins one way or another, or all the way back, to keep the beast off balance and punish its mouth and tongue.
This would continue for one hour, or until the animal collapsed onto the harness that kept it tether to the roof. With the passing of the days, it was able to “dance” for longer periods of time. But it was still unable to continue for the full 70 minutes.
To punish it, the stablehand smacked its sack as hard as he could with a board and wrapped its dick with the same pads that were before wrapped around its ankles. As the pads followed their programming, now inflicting all the agony into one spot constantly, the horse’s balls were swatted once every 10 minutes.
On Tuesdays, all the studs of the club were brought in to rape the beast, including their bull.
Its balls and dick, in the meantime, were well tended by the electric-box, which delivered random discharges of varied intensity, from a tingle to a shock so harsh the poor beast would convulse on its bindings, and bellow agonically on the ball gag stuffing its mouth.
Wednesdays had the horse struggling for air, as a big barrel full of water was brought into the stall and placed in front of the bound horse. It had a mechanism that allowed them to tie two cables to the bit on the horse’s mouth. And it was programmed to yank its head down into the water at random moments for different lengths of time. Sometimes for a second, others for almost a full minute.
While the machine did its magic, waterboarding the bound beast for the full length of two hours, the stablehand proceeded with the routinary whipping and cattle-prod work. It was delightful to do it particularly when its head was under water, and the poor thing kicked and squirmed helplessly in its bindings, unable to do anything but endure.
A less experienced stablehand may have prodded and whipped the horse even past the routinary 40 minutes, but he knew better. And so he stood for the rest of the time next to the beast, paying close attention to its breathing and heart rate. Not that he minded at all, of course. It was quite a delightful show.
No matter how many times it had been done to it, the stupid beast didn’t get used to it. It jerked and twitched desperately on its tight bindings each time its head was jerked down on the water, splashing the liquid everywhere as it instinctively fought to jerk its head out. But the machine held it for as long as it was meant to.
When released, the beast jerked its head out, bellowing hoarsely and snorting out water. The reins were bound close to the water’s surface, so its lips were brushing the liquid even when allowed out, and its nostrils flared desperately to drag in air. It always fought to try and pull further away, only prompting the bit to clamp hard on its tongue, lower jaw, and the roof of its mouth, as it was designed to do.
The stablehand watched it with a soft smile, kinda pitying the poor fuck, but finding it amusing all the same. Sometimes, he would lean over and pull the reins just to make sure the bit had not been loosened or lopsided. As minutes rolled by, its struggles grew fainter, and by the end of it, it hung on the harness and all it managed to do was pull its head slightly back and snort laboriously.
The stableman could swear that the beast always sighed a sob of relief when the barrel was taken away.
Thursdays had aspiring stablehands and visitors coming in to learn about punishments, and after the stablehand showed them the usual routine, everyone was given access to all the torment tools, and had free time to do with the stallion as they pleased. Whip-cracks rang long and hard on the empty stable during those mornings, and many chose to mount the beast and wreck its sides with sharp spurs while they yanked at the reins without a care.
From Friday to Sunday, the horse was turned to its back and would remain bound belly up.
The last day of the week, the stablehand whipped its chest and belly raw, taking 10 minute breaks and using one hand or the other. After three months, there wasn’t any fur left and its chest and belly was a broad pink surface covered in scars and fresh thin cuts. When he was done, he would empty a bucket of vinegar to prevent infections and add to the beast’s agony.
The stablehand did not work on weekends, and so a regular worker came in to do routinary care, but the torture sessions were suspended until the week days. It took mastery to torture something without killing it, after all, and the stallion was meant to last for years. Best to be left to a pro.
At 1130 every day, the veterinarian came and emptied and refilled the beast, this time with a salt and water solution. Throughout the day, it was emptied and refilled every six hours, with the plug being replaced with an electrified dildo on the afternoon fill and until the evening.
A tube was then forced down its throat and its stomach was filled with a nutritious paste. All the water it would need during the day was also pumped in. The veterinarian then emptied its catheter, something done only twice a day. After examining the horse, and tending its wounds, the man bid his farewells and left the stableman to his work.
The beast would be left alone until 13hs to ensure it had time to properly digest the food and water. It could not be allowed much reprise.
On Mondays and Thursdays, the stablehand would gag it heavily with vinegar-soaked rags, add a tight muzzle onto its snout, and then a latex hood over its head. A belt would be fastened at the base of its head. The entire set up forced the beast to strain for each breath.
On Tuesdays and Wednesdays, he tied heavy bags upon its back and neck, and added ropes to its hips and bit to punish any slackening. On Fridays, it was raised off the ground by its legs, reins hooked high as well to keep its head up.
The beast remained like this during the day, and was tortured once more from 14hs to 15hs with a repeat of the morning torture. It was left alone until 17hs to 19hs, time where the rest of the workers concluded their shifts and could relieve some stress on the bound beast.
Torture was a strong word for the activities that could be performed during those hours. Workers had access to vibrators to edge the beast. They could also knead and pull on its balls, and hit them lightly. Blows and whippings were strictly forbidden, and the beast’s mouth was to be left alone, but they could sit on it, kick its sides with bare boots (no spurs allowed) and pull at its ears as hard as they wished. Most chose to combine edging, with mild spankings while sitting on top of it, and tickling its sensitive ankles and shins..
Anyone who broke any rule, was immediately banned from the privilege.
It was at 21hs, when the catheter was emptied for the second and last time, the last enema was performed, and the evening 2 hour session began. The morning session was more intense, and the evenings served for lighter forms of torment.
On Mondays, the horse’s legs were spread taunt to each corner of the room, and weight was bound to its back. The stablehand would then whip its ass as hard as he could, aiming the whip at his balls once every 5 strikes. By the end of the session, the horse would take 40 whiplashes. A good bathe of salty water concluded the session, and ensured the wounds would never suffer infections!
On Tuesdays, the horse was bound with one front leg spread, and the other pulled back and bound to its balls. Painful electric shocks were then applied to its straining back legs, and the pulley system was arranged around its thighs, reins and swollen guts so that any attempt to drop and rest on it, caused intense pain.
On Wednesdays, the horse’s reins were bound to its back legs, and its head was pulled all the way back until its nose was pointing straight to the ceiling. Its front legs were then pulled forward so that most of the belance would rely on the back legs and it would keep the reins painfully taunt and thus, the punishment.-bit. The stablehand would then smear the horse with honey to prompt bugs to come and have themselves a snack. He didn’t bother to clean it. Usually, it was washed off on Sunday morning when the weekend worker cleaned the beast up in preparation of the week.
Thursdays had three assistants coming to help. The horse was to stand on its back legs. Any attempt to put its front legs down resulted in a ferocious whipping to the front legs and its thighs. Two hours was of course a long time, and so far, it had managed to last for one. As usual, its inability to do as it was told, concluded in intense electro-torture to its genitalia.
And it was fun to see the poor beast knowing it as well, for it tried hard to hop back into position even when its thighs were trembling with exhaustion, and huffing and puffing as if pleading for patience.
He was humanizing it, of course. The instructions were simple, and if it failed, it failed and was bound back into position and shocked mercilessly on the ball of raw nerves that were its dicks and balls.
On Fridays, the beast’s shaft was freed from the bullet vibrators and was smeared on different substances, and the rest of the animals on the farm had their turn to lick the treats up to their heart's content. The 10 dogs usually had their fill after around 45 minutes, the goats got 30 minutes, and the cows got the rest of the time. It was two hours, but the stablehand allowed it to continue until everyone had a turn.
Unfortunately for the horse, there were 20 cows, and they were stupidly patient animals who just adored the taste of horse pre-cum. It was well into midnight when the beast’s torment concluded, and by then, it was neighing pitifully and non-stop, its cock painfully red and twitching in its need. It was delightful to put the bullet vibrators back on and give those balls a few hearty wacks.
With the conclusion of the evening session, the stablehand picked a leg, spread it taut, whipped it harshly, and let it be. The horse was then left to stand there during the night, guts and bladder filled, mosquitoes on a frenzy around its broken sweaty skin, vibrators with unforgiving fervor harassing its dick, and electricity gnawing its balls.
