One More Whore Wife Bk. 02 Pt. 09

Chapter 9

After lunch, Jeremiah collected us and walked us out to the barn. The horses in the corral were no longer being worked out and the grounds were eerily quiet. I didn't notice any change in our host's appearance so I wondered what took him away from us. I assumed he was going to change out of his faded work clothes but he wore the same jean jacket and cowboy boots that made him look more like a ranch hand than the owner of a huge spread in the backcountry of southern Georgia.

Jeremiah Stackhouse pulled open the large barn door to allow us entry and it became immediately evident why the grounds outside the barn had seemed deserted -- everyone was inside the barn. The large area between the stalls that lined each side of the barn was teeming with ranch hands, or men dressed as ranch hands, just like Jeremiah. All of them were young, good-looking and black. Lena and I were the only whites as far as I could tell and the only women as well. I was suddenly quite nervous but I tried to calm myself with the promise I'd heard earlier from Rodney that we were non-participants in whatever was about to take place.

"Ladies, let me give you the nickel tour," Jeremiah said as he escorted us to the first stall to the left of the barn door. I was surprised again that Rodney was so willing to relinquish us to our host, but I had little time to think about it. The horse in the stall looked like one of the thoroughbreds that you see in the winners' circle at the Kentucky Derby, tall and dark and shining like a freshly washed limo. As we slowly made our way down the row of stalls, each containing another great beast that dazzled us with its beauty and power, Lena and I could only marvel at the collection. The ranch hands who milled around in the middle of the large room gave us little notice but I saw more than one glance at both Lena and me when they didn't think I would notice them. The vaulted ceiling kept the hushed tones of the various conversations private and gave the impression of a church before the service began.

When we reached the last stall at the end of the row Jeremiah escorted the three of us through the crowd to the first stall on the other side of the barn. As the men parted before us I noticed that the stalls were half the size of the ones we had just inspected. They seemed to be empty. Only when we walked up to the door that only came up to my shoulder and peered inside did I realize that the occupant was a woman. She lay on a bed of straw as if asleep but I couldn't help but notice that she was feigning sleep.

"This is Francine, my first acquisition," Jeremiah said without a hint of irony or sarcasm, as if owning and housing a woman with other livestock was the most natural thing in the world. "You always have a soft spot for your first, even though she vexes me mightily." With that, Jeremiah kicked the door hard and startled the woman on the straw. "Get up Francine, we have guests."

Francine was obviously not expecting guests, especially not female and, I'm sure, most especially not white females. I was taken aback by the clear hatred in her look at us, immediate and unmitigated. She rose slowly and looked as if she would attack us if she could. I took comfort that the door to her stall looked quite sturdy and the lock was secured.

"Settle down, Francine, they're guests, not additions," Jeremiah said to the woman. "She's as jealous as a first wife of new arrivals," he said to Lena and me.

Francine was naked except for the hooves that she wore on her hands and feet. The hooves looked like they were made of stiff black leather and they were strapped on to her wrists and ankles. A small padlock secured each hoof.

I looked with utter amazement as Francine turned away from us and I got a glimpse of her tail. It matched her ponytail in color and shape but was easily twice the size. I couldn't make out how it was attached but I must have been bug-eyed looking at it because I heard Jeremiah chuckle softly.

"It's a butt plug," he said. "The hair is hers. We grow it out to that length and add it to the mix, about once every two years. Francine has nice fast-growing hair."

"How long has she been here?" I asked, not even trying to contain my astonishment.

"It'll be six years next month."

"And she's spent the whole time in this barn?"

"This is where I keep all my fillies. She's been here since the beginning, except for the deliveries."

"What deliveries?" I asked before it dawned on me what he meant. I shuddered a little.

"Francine is an excellent broodmare. She's given me a pair of fine young men and three girls as well."

"Do they live here?" I couldn't stop myself from asking questions even as I felt Rodney's eyes burning holes in the back of my head.

"No, I get them to their new homes as soon as they're delivered. I can't risk any attachments developing."

"Are you the father?" I almost blacked out from the thump that knocked me sideways. Rodney had reached his limit, and so had I.

"No need to discipline the girl, she's here to learn so let her ask all her questions." Jeremiah lifted me up off the rough wood floor of the stable. "I'm not the father; at least I don't have any reason to think I am, any more than the rest of the men here today. My odds are no better than theirs." He walked me back to the stall door and motioned me to look at Francine. "She's a strong one and we breed her often; doesn't take long for her to catch a new bundle. She looks great for so many deliveries, doesn't she?"

I had to admit that the woman with the full tail sticking almost straight up out of her ass looked amazing for having endured five pregnancies and six years living as a broodmare. Just as I was starting to wrap my mind around the situation, Jeremiah eased me away from Francine's stall to view the next member of his collection. She also had a full tail but was at least six months pregnant. She wore a leather bridle around her head that held a bit between her teeth. It looked really uncomfortable but was at the same time weirdly sexy. I glanced at Jeremiah without asking, afraid of getting decked again. He nodded at me.

"Helene is still wearing her bridle as a punishment for an indiscretion earlier today. She's a recent addition and still has some training issues but she'll come around."

We walked the entire length of the barn, stopping at each stall to inspect and admire Jeremiah's collection. I didn't keep count but I'm sure there were at least a dozen girls on display, almost half of them in an obvious stage of pregnancy. Not for the first time Jeremiah seemed to read my mind without me having to ask.

"We don't collect anything for the babies. The parents get their young ones at no expense to them, at least none on delivery. Any parent can tell you the expenses mount up as the years do, but we don't charge any fees for the privilege of adopting."

We were standing at the last stall when Jeremiah motioned to one of the ranch hands to open the stall door. "I know you've been curious about the tales, so go ahead and take a closer look." He guided me into the stall and I tentatively stepped forward, as if the woman was a real horse that could do me damage. "Martha, stay still and let her examine you," he said to the woman. She obeyed.

The tail was snug against her butt cheeks with no obvious connection to whatever was inside her anus. I stroked the hair, almost involuntarily but with no reaction from Martha so I tugged on it a little. Still, no reaction so I pulled a little harder. The plug began to emerge from her rectum and I saw that the hair was braided through the end of a soft plastic loop. The plug itself widened out very quickly, no doubt to hold it firmly in place so I didn't pull hard enough to dislodge it and it sucked right back into its hiding place. I looked up at Jeremiah again with a question obvious on my face.

"The staff takes care of removing it before breakfast each morning so they can relieve themselves. Now step aside so we can bridle Martha up for the big event." I looked at Jeremiah with a blank stare. "The reason you're here today, the reason we're all here today." He turned to Rodney. "Didn't you tell them what this was all about?"

Rodney shook his head. "I like surprises."

"Well I sure hope you can control your fillies, I mean women."