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South Of The Border (Paul T Morrisson)

South Of The Border by Paul T Morrisson

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The sequel to Mustang Girls.

Texas Ranger Mariel has not fully come to terms with her experience of being a mustang girl on Red Garrett's ranch, even though she has returned to 'normal' life and duties. When the chance comes for her to go across the border and attempt to recapture Stella, Red Garrett's boss mare, who has broken out of jail, she defies her boss and goes.

Life becomes very interesting for the Ranger when she becomes involved in the blood feuds, the 'horse'-trading, the double dealing that goes on in the lawless territories and the familiarity of the chains and harness are a call she cannot ignore. There is sex, whippings, pony training, wild 'ponies', auctions and Wild West shoot-outs, a worthy sequel to Mustang Girls.

Product type: EBook    Published by: Fiction4All    Published: 9 / 2012

No. words: 35000

Style: Male Dom - M/F, Sex Slavery / Training

Available Formats: Palm  MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  Sony Reader (LRF)  PDF  MS Reader  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle



The stallion advanced through the floating threads of mist, flaring his nostrils and snorting explosively. He could smell her excitement. He came on with long rolling strides, proudly, his ears pricked erect. He shook his mane. The thunder of the heavens was in his breath. He pranced to one side, eyeing her, stepping high and displaying himself. The enormous bludgeon of his phallus bobbed and waggled stiffly between his powerfully muscled hindquarters.
He arched his neck, then threw back his head and whinnied, intoxicated by the smell of her. She quivered with arousal at his nearness, watching him come to her as if in slow motion through the mist, muscles moving beneath his sleek silken hide like quicksilver. His fertile scent filled her senses.
His eyes stared with all the wildness of the primal world.
She closed her own eyes and felt the rising ecstasy of his presence flooding her being. Then she opened them and saw the rampant organ of a man, bucking spasmodically between his naked widespread thighs. A bead of liquid passion glistened on the slit of the smooth shiny bulb.
She allowed herself to be turned by his strong hands. She bent over and thrust her hindquarters back at him, presenting her open, pink-lipped sex. There was the humming blur of something through the air and then the echoing crack of a leather strap on her naked flank, burning like fire. Suddenly she realized she had a collar on her neck and her ankles were chained wide to metal posts in the dirt. The sound of rough lascivious laughter brought her head around.
“That’s it, fuck mare,” said a familiar voice. “You go on an’ get bred.”
She was confronted by Red Garrett’s bluff, congested face. There was a mad gleam in his eye as he struck her with the strap again, causing her bare hips to writhe in torment.
“I wanna see that ass up higher,” he growled past the cigar in his teeth.
Obediently she bowed her head and bent further over, shoving her backside out and up. Gripping her broad splayed buttocks, her stallion mounted her, burying the long, thick, rigid strength of his maleness in the warm, yearning depths of her cunt.
The slow, elemental surge of his loins rammed the muscled cudgel of stiff flesh repeatedly to the hilt in her melting core. The pleasure, building and building, finally crashed like a wave through her body, threatening to sweep her away. But still he went on, pounding and thrusting with all the force of the stallion, possessing his ready mare. The passion shuddered in his chest, loud and horse-like. She knew he was only seconds away ... A feeling of trepidation and unbelievable excitement had her in its grip as he approached his climax. The hard-muscled wall of his loins tensed, battering against her wet buttocks. And then, with a roar of release, he flooded her already dripping depths with a deluge of hot jism.
Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw Red Garrett’s cavernous mouth gaping wide as his deafening laughter filled her ears.
“Once a pony gal, always a pony gal,” he said.

Mariel woke with a start from the dream. In her nocturnal struggle she had thrown the light cover off, exposing her naked body. She was drenched in sweat. She paused for a long moment, leaning on her arms in a sitting position, gasping for breath. The clamminess of the hot night was oppressive and she had a raging thirst.
Her big sweat-gleaming breasts wobbled as she padded lithely naked into the bathroom and switched on the light. She filled a glass full of water and drank, then looked at her reflection in the mirror.
Hers was an attractive face, frank, strong. The hazel eyes, thickly lashed below the high arched brows, had a steady gaze, sometimes disconcertingly so. The sort of gaze that gave a body the impression it could probe the inmost soul, whether it could or not. Dangerous eyes. But very, very sexy. The wide mouth with its full lips naturally sensual. The long nut brown braid of her hair hanging halfway down her back.
Why should she be dreaming of Red Garrett, she wondered, the now infamous pony girl rancher, whose activities she had not long ago investigated, and the man himself brought to justice?
She wiped the sweat from her breasts and slid her fingers down over her ribcage, feeling the scar of her recent knife wound, a souvenir of that encounter.
True, her experiences on his ranch as a human show mare in the ring and a brood mare in his breeding pens had had a profound effect on her. So much so that she could look at herself in the mirror and see not only Mariel Cade, Texas Ranger, but also Silver Star, the latest addition to the Garrett stable (as she had been referred to by the show ring announcer at the pony girl rodeo).
She was a strong woman, used to controlling things around her. But after being shot and captured and taken to the Garrett Ranch buck naked and in chains, her life had altered drastically. She still tried to tell herself that the threat to civilian lives alone had forced her to become a show mare and draught animal harnessed to Garrett’s parade carriage, but there was more to it than that. She knew.
Kept naked at all times, with a collar round her neck and a shackle ring on her ankle, her every move dictated by whip and vocal command, the experience had unleashed certain feelings she barely recognised or perhaps deliberately chose to ignore because of what they represented. A loss of control. Submission. A delicious surrender to complete depravity. And she had enjoyed it. She had got a taste for it and wanted more. All these suppressed feelings, the secret desire to be dominated, degraded, were exposed to the light, naked and panting and demanding acknowledgement if not acceptance. But above all, satisfaction.
And now, by closing down Garrett’s operation, she was deprived of the peculiar circumstances that had given her the means of that satisfaction, the active outlet for those wanton urges. But she was a law officer first and foremost. She had no choice. It was crazy to think otherwise. And in doing her duty she had saved a young tourist forced into sexual slavery and the life of an innocent waitress caught up in Garrett’s madness, as well as freed numerous other women and girls held against their will.
But what of the women who had enjoyed their existence as human livestock, giving themselves over willingly as fuck mares and show animals, even to the point of being publicly bred? To them it was a way of life and they wouldn’t change it for anything. Women like Stella, Red Garrett’s boss mare, who had tried to get Mariel killed and was now in prison awaiting trial. A wild woman of powerful build and strong passions, who had every reason to hate the female Ranger who shot her lover, Roy, dead and removed her from the life of naked depravity she so loved. Women like her were drawn to that life through a need to dominate or be dominated, to lead or be part of a herd, mustang girls intimately acquainted with rope, bridle and whiplash, who saw no other way once they had tasted that life, with its dark seductive attractions, the public couplings, nakedness and chains.
And now, looking in the mirror, Mariel realized only too well that for a brief time she had been exposed to and immersed in that same life as a human mare. And already it had made a lasting impression on her. Regardless of her official status as a law officer and her duty to serve and protect, there was no getting away from the fact that she had found herself secretly enjoying her period of enforced submission, until opportunity and the threat of deadly danger compelled her to turn the tables on her captors.
She touched her neck, even now seeing the collar on it to which her lead rope had been attached when she was led around. She felt her big breasts, the nipples stiffening as she recalled the little silver bells that had jangled from them whenever she was harnessed to Red Garrett’s carriage and made to pull it under the whip. And she felt the unmistakeable excitement between her moist thighs at the memory of the crazed rancher’s strap stinging her bare ass while she was publicly serviced.
Once a pony gal, always a pony gal. She was beginning to believe it.


“The court will rise. The honorable Judge Clayton Pike presidin’.”
By the time everybody resumed their seats Mariel was more than a little curious to see how Red Garrett was bearing up. The big rancher’s massive form was dark suited, in stark contrast to his usual flamboyant white, but there was little in his expression to indicate any kind of despondency over his position. The beady grey eyes still twinkled with their barely sane joviality. The only noticeable difference about his face was that his mile-wide mouth was shut, something Mariel had to work to get used to, as the lips were usually drawn back in an alligator grin, exposing his wall of teeth in which a cigar stub was wedged.
He must have felt her staring at him then, because he caught her eye directly and had the brazenness to wink. A mischievous smirk then quivered at a corner of his mouth as his gaze settled briefly on the Ranger star pinned to her white shirt. Mariel blushed beneath her tan. She had after all been named Silver Star after it and entered naked into the show ring under that title. The brightly polished surface of the star shone as her big breast rose and fell with a heavy breath. She was only too glad when the court got down to business.
After the charges were read out, including abduction, slavery, rape, corruption of a peace officer, murder and attempted murder, Garrett’s lawyer stood to have his say. He did not start at all well. A psychiatric report on the big rancher’s state of mind, originating his pony girl obsession with an ardent boyhood love of horses and the naked female form, in which the beauty of both became one and inseparable, was laid before the judge, who received it in stony silence.
The prosecution pointed out that a boyhood fascination with girls and horses was no excuse for what went on at the Garrett Ranch. A large proportion of Texas boys, they argued, could be accused of a similar preoccupation, but they did not rope their girlfriend nor stick a bridle on her. This latter remark induced some laughter, which swelled hysterically when someone muttered, “That’s as far as you know.”
Judge Pike banged his gavel for order.
Nor did it induce them to engage in the very serious crimes of which the defendant was accused, the prosecution continued.
Garrett’s attorney seemed undaunted. “Yore honor,” he said. “We are all well aware of the grave charges laid before my client, but as the report clearly shows, he was in a deranged state at the time and freely admits that his pony girl ranch was an innocent hobby gone wrong. In the light of this we would like to petition for bail.”
The judge reacted angrily. “Mr. Conor, you will not insult this court nor my intelligence by attemptin’ to trivialise the involvement or otherwise of the accused in the charges now facin’ him. Your argument that the defendant’s pony girl activity was an innocent pastime gone wrong will not wash. Bail denied.”
“Yore honor -”
“My chambers, mister - now!”
Red Garrett looked at his attorney in irate disapproval.
The hapless lawyer obeyed the judge’s summons and stood in his chambers a short time later. The judge turned on him like a pit bull. He was not called Iron Pike for nothing.
“Just what in the hell were you tryin’ to pull in there, son? An innocent hobby gone wrong!? It was a goddamn perversion, Mr. Conor, in which young women were held against their will an’ made to perform like animals, in which a visitor to our fair state was abducted and impregnated in a bizarre parody of a horse-breedin’. And a young man lost his life on the point of revealin’ it to Ranger Cade, later to become a victim of this same treatment herself. That ain’t any kinda innocent pastime. An’ if that’s the best you can come up with for a defence, your pony-lovin’ sonofabitch is up shit creek without a paddle!”

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an author who takes a different look at pony carting and state controlled women.


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