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This is an excerpt from a much longer story titled "Most Secret Society".


Things were going as badly as Lindy had feared. A new barn had gone up in just a few weeks, and Derrick Crane had stocked it with horde of pretty little girls, which the equestricunts learned had been abducted from a weekend wilderness camp. They had been taken in the middle of the night, their guides and chaperones fast asleep thanks to a sedative in their bedtime hot chocolate.

The children attended a group of affiliated church-sponsored private girls’ schools, all of them from grades two to six, ages seven to eleven. Now they had all been removed from society, to serve what for them was a new society. They were all in the same situation as the large barn full of equestricunts. Derrick Crane had crossed yet another line. Where would he stop?

The children had been harnessed into groups of five, and each group pulled a cart driven by an adult equestricunt. The intent was to teach them discipline, teamwork of the most rudimentary manner under the lash of buggy whips, and to exhaust them. This also afforded the equestricunts to experience the use of the whip from the other end. Lindy loved it. They had set out at noon, and the children were forced to keep moving on a rugged trail until 10 in the evening.

They received a quick meal, and then were bundled off to their stalls and taught how to make a bed of straw. The children were reluctant and cranky, and the equestricunts were empowered to use a cane to control them. All of them at last settled after a sound spanking on their bare bottoms.

Finally the equestricunts were permitted to go to their own stalls to bed down, and they were as exhausted as were the little girls, but much happier. After a day less strenuous and stressful than most, the equestricunts, commonly known as pony girls, settled into the comfort of piled straw in their stalls, and within minutes had all drifted off to sleep.

It was summer, and even at night the temperature was moderate, so that the nude women were able to sleep comfortably. Lindy’s mind struggled to focus as she was abruptly awakened in the middle of the night and hurried out of her stable to an awaiting limousine. The butler didn’t even give her a chance to use the washroom to freshen up.

She sat alone, naked in the back of the extended Lincoln, was told nothing of where she was going, and knew much better than to enquire. The butler gave her a 2 quart bottle of apple juice, and she knew she would be expected to finish it before they arrived at their destination, wherever that was. She assumed correctly her Lord and Master Derrick Crane had need of her services.

This kind of abrupt change to her routine was not unusual, at any time of day or night, but she had never before been taken off the estate in a limo. She knew little of what she was able to see along the roadway that would provide her a clue. She had, through being owned, been reduced to an object, a sex object, considered to be nothing but a pony girl, and had no right to opinion regarding what might be demanded of her.

The circumstances of her relationship had altered drastically, but it seemed naturally in the direction they had taken, and had evolved rather rapidly after her joining the services of Derrick Crane. Being converted to a subservient domestic animal was not at all natural, and she was more than a little surprised at how easily she had slid into total acceptance of her plight. She was now no more than a very attractive athletic animal bound in his service, and was subject to the most bizarre whims of her Master.

The butler told her Mr. Crane was enjoying an evening out with some friends, and to amuse themselves, the men had on the spur of the moment decided to engage in an interesting game of chance, testing the abilities of a top member of their stables, to see who’s equestricunt was more worthy. Each had selected one capable of taking a measured risk. He asked if Lindy would risk everything for her sponsor. She promptly answered in the affirmative, not certain what he was talking about, but knowing no other answer would be acceptable.

40 minutes after departing Derrick Crane’s estate and moving rapidly along a side road, the driver pulled the limo into a discrete driveway and followed a twisting lane through trees, past a guarded gate through a high electrified fence topped with coils of razor wire, until at last it came to a stop on beautifully maintained grounds outside a barn.

A butler opened the limo door and escorted her across the yard into the large converted farm building. It was not unlike the barn she lived in, Derrick Crane’s purpose-built facility to accommodate his growing string of equestricunts. This one was much older, and appeared to have once served as a horse barn.

The stables were filled now with nude horsewomen, awakened in their stalls by the arrival of the limousine. Most of them were sitting up, curious to see whom the vehicle had brought in the middle of the night. They appeared to be disappointed it was just another naked equestricunt, and lay back down to resume their middle of the night sleep.

The butler opened the cherry wood door to an opulent tack room, and there at an oak card table sat 4 men, drinking single malt whisky. One of them was Derrick Crane. Another was the owner of the estate and the collection of horsewomen her arrival had awakened. The third and fourth men were sponsors Lindy had seen at the events she had attended. There was also a stableman beside each of the men, and they all carried coiled whips.

Beside the other three men stood magnificent nude horsewomen, standing high on their tip-toes, wearing only light harness. Whatever was about to take place, their harness would not play a role, as it was clearly just decoration to identify them in their subservient positions. The three women were all breathing heavily and openly perspiring from what had obviously been very recent energetic activity. She was not looking forward to whatever it was that would follow.

Horsewoman tack covered the walls, and half a dozen human skulls mounted on posts were used to hold halters and bridles, designed to control women, not horses. There were three large treadmills set in a row near the card table. In the corner of the extensive tack room was an 8-inch square vertical post rising from the floor up through a round hole in the 12-foot-high ceiling. On it were rope loops set a yard apart on both sides and offset, so that one occurred every 18 inches as climbing aids.

Derrick Crane pointed to the post, and said to Lindy, “I want you to climb it, using only your hands, not your feet.”

Without hesitation she moved on her tiptoes, as all properly trained horsewomen did, over to the corner and quickly began her climb. Her legs kicked and swung freely, twisting her torso to advantage as she reached for each next hoop. Although she was not allowed to use her feet in her ascent, this swinging and twisting action helped her to move more efficiently.

She presented the men an admirable view of her moist cunt and puckered rectum between her widespread swinging legs with each sideways swing. Whenever she was being observed, she became a true show woman, and automatically flapped her vagina open and closed for the amusement and interest of the men.

When her feet had disappeared through the 3-foot-wide hole in the ceiling she was instructed to come back down, and as soon as her feet found the tack room floor Derrick told her to go back up, this time more quickly. She promptly repeated her ascent. Lindy had thought climbing was the competition, but noticed nobody was timing her ascent.

Her muscles bulged and strained, and her breath rate increasing. She was now using muscles not usually engaged in her regular daily exercise routines. Lindy was always exhilarated by strenuous exercise and activity, and enjoyed the climb, one that had her breathing hard and expanding her lungs.

When she had returned to floor level she was once more required to go up, but this time to double her last pace. As she grabbed the third rope a whip slashed a sharp stinging blow across her buttocks, speeding her movement. She came back down at the same speed she had gone up, and she was now breathing harder and sweating profusely when she returned to the card table to stand on tip-toes beside her sponsor.

“Now that you’ve all opened your lungs to their full capacity,” the host said, “we are going to have you take part in a friendly little competition.” He explained, “We have each selected our fittest specimen from our stables, and we want to see which of us has the girl with endurance and lungs most able to deal with full lung usage, as well as the various issues associated with asphyxiation.

“That is mostly a factor of lung capacity and endurance, with of course excellent fitness a must. We have three clever competitions for you ladies, to determine which of you is most worthy. After each competition one of you will drop out. I mean that in the most specific sense. There will be no further use for those who do not measure up.”

‘What the hell did he mean by that?’ Lindy thought.

“We expect each of you to do your very best in determining which of us has the superior stable of horsewomen, as each event will be an elimination round. We’ve determined we want to see who’s stock is best able to deal with suffocation. The three events we’ve arranged for you to compete in will prove to be an outstanding workout for your lungs.

“We have also thoughtfully provided you with excellent motivation, as we have agreed that permanent or total elimination of losers is the only other option. As you should be aware going in, these competitions won’t be finished until three of you have been permanently eliminated.

Yes, that’s exactly right, one for each contest. Each of the three competitions will end in the death of one of you, working the number of competitors down to two for the final round. Only one of you is going back to continue to serve your Master in your own stable when we are done tonight.”

The 4 women blanched. This had suddenly turned deadly serious, in the most somber terms. Three of them were about to die of asphyxiation, simply for the amusement and entertainment of their wealthy owners. This was going to be the last night of life for 3 of them! The others would die!

“Let’s check the entries,” another sponsor said, and with a chuckle the men stepped forward and began inspecting the fit bodies of the four naked competitors. These carefully recruited gorgeous girls were top specimens, well trained, and as always, stood still up on tiptoe as the men checked their firm muscles, fondled their smooth buttocks and squeezed their full breasts.

Their well-toned flesh was warm to the intimate touch they were experiencing, warmed by the high-energy exercise they had all done in the last few moments, designed to open their air passages and lungs, which were about to be tested. It had also increased the flow of blood coursing through their bodies with their accelerated heartbeat, and enriched their blood with additional oxygen, the elixir of life.

As the men enjoyed the remarkable bodies of the women they were about to kill with their unusual late-night sport, the butler took Lindy’s measurements, and fitted her with harness taken from the wall. The harness was just decoration, but was consistent with what the other three were wearing, and exceptionally tight fitting, to enhance their awareness of their tight costume consisting solely of leather straps.

A photographer and a videographer arrived and entered the tack room, ready to document the competitions for internet release on a few of the host’s private pay sites. He had arranged for these, as he was a successful entrepreneur, and never let a chance to make money slip past.

He had obtained the snuff video sites from men who had found the stress of running highly illegal websites to hard to manage, and had obtained them for ¼ their real worth. Most of the product viewed on them was produced in Central and South America or from SE Asia, and production of the videos was slick and professional, as the workers had obtained their education in American film schools.

The images and videos produced tonight would be sold on three of his websites on the Undernet, where the dark side of human experience is documented and liberally shared. Lindy realized men and women around the world would masturbate and perhaps fornicate as they watched three of the ladies present sacrifice their lives for the games and the videos.

“I’d say your entry has the best lungs,” the host said to Derrick, referring to Lindy’s remarkable breasts as he squeezed them, impressed at their firmness. With his other hand he tugged on her large groin ring, which joined her vagina to her rectum. They all laughed at his comment, and another man suggested they handicap the ladies. “I think it would be more interesting if these lovely participants had their arms tightly bound behind their back.”

“Let your wager speak to handicap!” Derrick said, confident his entry was superior to the other three ladies, all of whom were also in remarkable shape. “Let’s sweeten the pot,” Derrick said. I’ll put $50,000. on my entry winning the first round.”

The others were in, and the four nude horsewomen were moved to the far wall, where four stout ropes with nooses on one end hung from ceiling-mounted pulleys. They were going onto a manual pull-up gallows. These were lady neck-stretchers! They were all about to be hanged!

The naked women’s eyes bulged in disbelief as the nooses were lifted over their heads, their uniform ponytails pulled through, and the rope was snuggled tightly around their necks, the knot tucked firmly against their chin, safely ahead of their carotid artery. If they could keep the knot away from the primary blood supply to the brain, the nude women would at least not die of their brain giving out from blood starvation.

The intent of their sponsors, or more properly owners, they learned, was to see which of them died from depriving the brain of oxygen specifically through degrading the level of the critical-to-life gas in their bloodstream by asphyxiation, a much more painful demise than hanging.

The 4 naked participants now had the complete picture. They now fully grasped that this really was a death game they were to play! They were competing for their lives! Three of them were about to die in the middle of the night because of a whim of their sponsors at this impromptu very late night party!

Lindy’s mind was running ahead, as usual, in an attempt to find a strategy that would see her winning. This was unbroken ground. She had never before experienced asphyxiation. She had no idea what it would feel like, but was certain it would, if nothing else, be extremely uncomfortable, if not painful. This was a competition she had to win, at all costs.


“I think we’re ready, gentlemen,” the host proclaimed, “take your lady’s rope while I explain to them our expectation. Ladies, remain up on tiptoe as high as you can.” The well-trained participants readily complied, although they were terribly frightened for their lives, and raised themselves another inch from their already elevated position on their bare feet.

“You can only do well if you understand what we require of you. When we pull you up with the ropes, you will be lifted off your toes, and will not be able to touch the floor. It will be entertaining if you reach for the floor with your extended toes, and we are confident you will all want to do that.

You will be held suspended in the air for 30 seconds, supported only by the rope around your neck, and while you’re off the ground you will be whipped so that you kick your legs and twist your gorgeous torsos. In addition to surviving, you will want to appear as sexy as possible, to get us going.

“You see we have worked out an escape clause for you. If any of you is able to make one or more of us ejaculate while you are in the air, you will earn your way out of this competition, and will automatically advance to the next. Isn’t it good to know we’ve added this rule to give you this additional opportunity to succeed?” The men all had their flies open, and their firm erections stood at full attention.

“Remember, we are prepared for this, and it is your job to stimulate us with your movement to the point we ejaculate while you are still suspended by your neck. This will be no mean feat, as your only means of support will be the stout ropes secured around your lovely necks.

“After 30 seconds in the air you will be lowered to stand on tiptoe for just ten seconds. This brief rest will provide you with some relief, but possibly not sufficient to fully regain your composure. Your suspension in the air and your rest on the floor between lifts will be strictly timed.

“On the second lift, you will be suspended out of reach of the floor for 45 seconds, followed by another ten-second period of relief. That second pause will most certainly be insufficient. On each successive lift, you will have 15 seconds added to your time in the air, but the breaks will remain at 10 seconds.

“On each lift we expect you to actively kick your legs to the best of your ability. In that regard, a whip shall be applied to your breasts, buttocks and vagina, for which you have all been well conditioned, to encourage your full participation. The aggressively active action of your legs is critical to the success of this event.

“When at last the first of you sags, hanging still, and urinates, the other two will be lowered. The loser, who will no longer be one of us, shall be declared dead, and will have no further use for air. She will be left hanging in her noose as an encouragement to the others of you to do better in the next round.

“After a pause for refreshments, so that we can recharge our glasses with brandy and each of the survivors can catch her breath, we will proceed to the second competition, which shall provide another ingenious form of asphyxiation we have devised. Do you all understand how this works?”

All four women visibly sagged; they knew this first session was going to be fatal for one of them, and very uncomfortable for them all. ‘Holy shit,’ Lindy thought, ‘this whole situation is now totally out of hand. Worst of all, there’s nothing I can do about it! The risk of death was never part of the agreement, and right now it looks like three of us are going to be killed. All three of these other girls look like they’re capable of being the survivor! I’ve just got to make it. There’s no bloody way I’m ready to die!’

The whip rapidly found breasts, vaginas and buttocks, stimulating the nude ladies to emerge from the depressing thoughts that subdued them. They sprung back up onto their toes, and the ropes tightened, making it impossible for their heels to lower to the floor.

“Are you ready, gentlemen? Are all ropes snug?” The men, smiling as they held the ropes retuning from the overhead beam, nodded. They made a last minute check to see that the knots were not going to press on an artery. They all nodded that they were ready. “Then up, up and away!”

Lindy was thankful that Derrick Crane tightened the rope gently and raised her slowly, but then she noticed the others had done the same. Each sponsor was attempting to give his own entry the advantage, but it appeared all elevations were equal. She felt the rope tighten, causing a restriction on her air passage. She kicked her legs vigorously, which caused further tightening of the noose from which she was suspended.

It seemed an eternity passed, and the whip only found her once, across the breasts, when she heard the butler declare 30 seconds had passed. Her kicking has been sufficient to spare her a beating with the whip. She felt a stinging in her lungs from lack of air, and she felt as if the veins on her forehead were about to burst. ‘How will I survive 45 seconds,’ Lindy thought.

The 4 nudes were lowered to stand again on tiptoe, all of them gasping for air, and they could not believe how brief the 10 second pause was when once more they were lifted off the floor to dangle again by their slender necks, this time for a 45 second session of whip-aggravated kicking and twisting.

They all began kicking vigorously, thanks to the encouragement of the whip, this time applied liberally to their buttocks, and before 30 seconds of this session were completed, all 4 faces were turning red, one of the beauties quite a bit darker than the others. She was clearly in distress, and not doing well.

When they were lowered at the end of 45 seconds, two of the naked young women stumbled, unable to stand, and both had to be raised by the ropes around their necks until at last they could support themselves on their toes. Almost immediately the 10-second pause was done, and they were once more hauled into the air to swing from their noose.

The girl least able to remain awake responded more with brief spasms rather than with active kicking when the whip found her, and within seconds the faces of both she and the other girl who had stumbled at the brief brake had turned deep purple. Lindy was glad she had been a basketball player, and that her neck muscles were well developed from looking up while leaning forward when she played.

At the 35 second point the weakest of the 4 hanging beauties became unresponsive to continued brutal lashes to her cunt, and she released the mandatory steaming amber liquid from her bladder as she expired. The sponsors of the other three promptly lowered them, as they would require rest before their next asphyxiation competition.

These men also had a stake in the events, as although their lives were not on the line, each had a great deal of money riding on the outcome, as well as the life of his valued horsegirl. As captains of industry, they were all used to winning, and winning at all costs was in their nature.

The men resumed their seats at the sturdy velvet-covered card table, and as they finished their drinks, the butler brought forward the whiskey bottle to replenish their supply. The 3 remaining nude women watched in shock the body of the 4th, still hanging by the rope and dead still.

The proof of the intent of these deadly asphyxiation games had the 3 ladies in a state of shock, and they were all breathing heavily, their ample breasts heaving, to replenish the level of oxygen, the elixir of life, in their blood stream. They were all acutely aware that two more of them were going to die a hideous death in the horrific breathing competitions within the hour.

They were still gasping in air as they were moved onto the 3 side-by-side treadmills, and were instructed to grasp the handles at the front of each machine. “These treadmills are synchronized to run at the same speed,” the host informed them, “with all 3 of them controlled with a single speed dial.

“You will of course run up on your toes, and the speed of the tracks will be steadily increased, causing you all to run faster, which will quickly elevate both your breathing and your oxygen consumption. This will quickly show us which of you is in the best and worst physical condition.

“Because you are all in magnificent shape, with outstanding physical conditioning, it could take hours for one of you to eventually fall. We don’t want to spend all night and half the morning at this. To speed things up a bit, we’re going to provide you with masks that cover both your nose and your mouth.”

The three girls gasped. How were they going to breathe?

“To provide you with some air intake, we have arranged that there is a small hole in front of your mouth, and you can draw in air through it, although what you can get through the small hole will be insufficient for breathing comfort while standing still, and certainly will be far less air than you require during physical exertion. Are you beginning to get the picture?”

The picture was crystal clear. Another of them was about to die, with the other two put at great risk. “The loser will keep her mask when the other two are removed, and just to assist her in her demise, we’ll put a piece of tape over the hole in her mask to make her air deprivation complete, then she’ll rejoin her friend by the far wall as another bitch on a rope.”

The girls in unison pissed at the news. They blushed in shame at the unexpected loss of continence, but they were freaked at the raw turn their servitude agreements had taken. Fortunately they all had the lower body muscle control to turn off the involuntary spurting of their pee onto the treadmill belts.

The stains on the rugged belts told them they were not the first to have soiled the heavy woven straps on which they were about to run. They were shocked to think that other women may have died from asphyxiation to amuse these men who were now their owners. This may not after all be such a shift in activity for them, with the new guidelines on the level of treatment and abuse of their private cunts.

The new permissive guidelines for the Society might simply be formalization of what had already been occurring. Lindy could imagine these wealthy gentlemen amusing themselves without risk of being discovered because of the total privacy they could enjoy due to their enormous wealth. All of it was at the cost of the young women they involved.

Their owners came forward carrying the masks. The devices were wide latex bands that when placed over the head covered their lower ears, the top of the nose in a snug fit just below their eyes, and the bottom wrapped below their chins. As advertised, there was a small hole in front of their mouths, too small to fit a drinking straw through. The men held the front of the masks out to allow normal breathing.

The tiny hole would be the only possible source of air. The girls all breathed as much air as they could gulp in before the host said “Now!” and the men completed the placement of the masks in unison, no longer stretching them out in front, but allowing them to take their tight grasp of the women’s lower heads, sealing off all movement of air save for that which whistled through the small airholes.

Immediately the treadmills started to move, at first at a brisk walk. After 30 seconds of striding on their toes, the belts accelerated, moving up to a trotting speed, which was maintained for a full minute. The women were sucking hard on the tiny holes, and all of them quickly learned that by opening their jaws, they were able to slightly enlarge the hole that gave them their precious air.

After 60 seconds of trotting, the belts on the treadmills once more picked up speed, forcing the girls to run. They were provided the luxury of a manageable running speed for two minutes, but at this tempo it became quickly apparent they were not going to do well with so little air, and would be in serious trouble when the cadence was move up to a more rapid run.

Lindy soon felt a growing burning in her lungs, and she used her stomach muscles to cause her diaphragm to drop, drawing in what air was available. She noticed the other girls were wasting energy by heaving their chests, which is a very inefficient way of pumping the lungs. Regardless, there was far less air than they required to maintain the speed required of them to stay in the race.

Just as their muscles began to cramp from lack of oxygen in their blood at a time when much more was demanded, the speed once more increased, and with it, the need for even more air, when so little was available. Lindy was sure her lungs were going to explode, when the girl running on the machine beside her stumbled, then fell to bounce off the rapidly moving belt onto the floor.

Promptly the belts slowed to a stop, and the owners removed the masks from the two remaining women. The girl who had fallen was the property of their host. He quickly stepped forward and placed the piece of tape over the hole in his girl’s mask. Clearly he had no personal feelings for her. She was just a piece of property he had lost because she had failed him in a wager.

The fallen ponygirl’s body bucked, heaved, twisted and then finally spasms ran from head to foot as her heart failed. The butler dragged her over to the ropes, fit her noose around her neck, pulled her up and tied the rope off so that she swung naked beside the other looser. She too now made her final contribution to the piss on the floor as she slumped in death, swinging by the neck from the tight noose on her rope.

Up until this late night event, Lindy had felt at least a little bit valued by Derrick Crane. However, it became abundantly clear to her that her life was not valued more than the entertainment cost of betting on the consequence of the severe contests. No matter what the final cost, the men had to keep themselves amused, and risk of loss was a thrill even to them.

The winner would keep his winnings and his girl, while the other three would lose both. For these men the risk was worth it simply for the bragging rights, for having the best stable. And now, after what the two athletic equestricunts had endured, they could think of no other way the men could possibly use to apply asphyxiation to them, the two surviving participants.


Too soon these two remaining participants found out how this competition would work. The men had drained their glasses, lighted cigars, and the butler again refreshed their whiskeys. He gave both women a 1-quart bottle of apple-cranberry juice, and instructed them to drink it. He said they had lost a lot of moisture in the two events they had endured, and would need much more for the last competition.

He then left the tack room briefly, and returned carrying a leather briefcase. Lindy managed to see on it a small brass plate attached to it with the word Uritubes beautifully engraved on it. Urit? What was that about? She quickly learned she had broken the combined word in the wrong place. Uri proved to be an abbreviation for their urine.

The two nude and harnessed women were seated back to back on the sturdy card table, their legs spread, and they were prepared for the next and final competition. Lindy’s ornate catheter was removed, and from the case was brought a strange and nefarious looking device consisting in the most part of thin and clear plastic tubing.

One end of the device proved to be a very complex catheter. The head of it was clasped copper leaves that folded together to make a small ball suitable for inserting. Attached to it was plastic tubing, and a wrapping of very thin insulated wires. 10 inches along the tube made a Y, with two tubes attached to the Y extending for more than 3 feet each.

The wires separated at the Y, and were attached to what appeared to be a stout pump for inflating bicycle tires, but which proved instead to be a hand-operated electric generator. The copper end of the device was inserted into her urethra, and with the help of some lubricant, pushed up into her bladder. When it was properly seated, one of the wires was pulled, and the copper clasp inside her opened, and the two halves spread and pressed against the walls of her bladder. These were in fact a pair of electrodes!

Two stools were placed facing each other, and the two horsewomen were seated on them. Their ankles were cuffed to the other woman’s ankles. This was to ensure they remained in close proximity. Now one of the men, who proved to be a doctor, took the plastic tubes from the Y at the other girl’s groin and holding Lindy’s head back, forced each of the tubes into her nostrils, and on down into her throat.

Now he took a long bent clamp and a thicker plastic tube with a light on the end from the Uritubes case. He pushed the tube and the clamp into Lindy’s mouth and down her throat. She could hardly breathe, but realized that was the whole point to the exercise. The thick tube with the light on one end proved to be a scope, and by looking into it he could see what he was doing down her throat.

He used the clamp to grasp one of the thin tubes from her nose, and worked it into her bronchial tube, pushing the end down into her right lung. When that was completed he repeated the process with the other thin tube, pushing it into her left lung. Satisfied, he shifted position and performed the same operation on the other horsegirl, using the pair of thin tubes emerging from Lindy’s cunt.

He put a pump-like generator on the floor beside each woman, and had each take the handle of the one with its wires leading to her own cunt. The curious devices resembled what she remembered of bicycle tire pumps. Lindy was baffled when she tried to guess how this intricate joining of each other was to produce asphyxiation. Her mind followed the process of rigging them, and with a start she realized what was about to happen. They were somehow each to drive their own urine into the lungs of her opponent!

When she was a teen, a group of school chums arranged a “pissed to death” drinking contest, in which they all had to drink full glasses of rum, one after the other, until one of them collapsed and was unable to get up. That was to be the conclusion of the competition with the exaggerated naming. The grade 11 girls invited a grade 8 girl to join them, who was nearly a foot shorter and 30 pounds lighter, and by her selection they produced for the contest a guaranteed loser. The younger and smaller girl would certainly not be able to handle the rum at the rate they could. It should take less that a glass to knock her out.

Of the eight grade 11 participants, five of the 16-year-olds were hospitalized with alcohol poisoning, and far worse than they expected, the smaller 13-year-old girl died. Lindy had always felt a twinge of guilt, as she had been the one to recruit the grade 8 girl, but rationalized that at that age, girls did goofy things, and sometimes they could prove to be lethal things. These men had devised a whole new “pissed to death” game, with a whole new approach to a competition that would also produce a death, this time guaranteed.

“Ladies,” the host began, “your lungs are designed to deal with air and to extract the oxygen from it, putting it directly into your blood stream to feed the cells throughout your body, particularly your brain. Your lungs can also take in moisture, but cannot easily deal with liquid. By giving your own bladder an electric shock, you are going to deposit your caustic, acidic urine into your opponent’s lungs, reducing by volume her ability to take in air. Won’t that be fun?

Only one of you need be concerned that we did not wash the equipment after it’s last use, which was just a few weeks ago. A dozen women have participated in this discrete diversion for two, in six pair, and four of them survived the experience. Any harm from germs carried forward will not have time to in any way affect the one of you who is unable to deal with the lungs full of piss you will receive.

The immediate concern of the winner will be the effective removal of the lady-piss filling her lungs. We will do our part by hanging you up by your heels, head down, to assist you in purging your lungs of the amber liquid provided by your opponent. The rest will be up to you. Do either of you have any questions?”

There was no response. Both women were dumbfounded, numbed at the thought of what they were about to do. “Then let us proceed. Unfortunately there is no opportunity for rehearsal, but you’ll quickly get the hang of it. The others always have. Your objective is to flood her with more piss than she floods you.

All you have to do is repeatedly plunge the handle of the generator, and the electric stimulation to your bladder walls with force you to pee into the tubing. The rest is automatic. The harder you pump, the more urine you will transfer. It’s as simple as that. Of course you can only pass piss at the rate you produce it. That’s what the apple juice was for.

Both women were pumping the handles, and were squealing at the sharp discomfort of the electricity causing their bladders to spasm, forcing urine into the transparent tubes, where it’s progress was readily apparent. In seconds the amber liquid reached the nose of the other, and at the very least trickled and sometimes spurted directly into her lungs.

Both women coughed, but the urine that tickled their lungs was quickly moving to the bottom, gravity driven, and was not yet accessible to coughs. It stung, and gradually began to feel heavy. Their well-developed lungs were made, as their host had pointed out, for air, not woman-piss.

Derrick Crane and his companions loved the intimacy of this bizarre contest, with each woman providing her own body’s excess fluid to bring to her opponent discomfort, anxiety, distress, pain and eventually death. “Taking another woman’s pee into your mouth,” he said, “savoring and swallowing another woman’s fresh warm urine, taking it into your stomach to blend with your nutrition, is as you know a very intimate act.

“Going further by forcing your pee directly into her lungs,” he continued, “and willingly giving your own bladder sharp and painful electrical shocks to achieve this transfer in your own desperation to win, is even more intimate. Don’t you love being a direct participant in such sexual intimacy?

“This amusing game is particularly intimate in that by linking with her like this you craft the death of the other woman, simply to entertain us, while by the same act risking your own life as she attempts to take it. What we have designed is a pure and poetic, not complex, nude lady competition.”

The two naked participants were oblivious to his comments, and most likely would have disagreed with him, but that was moot, because they were both struggling to insert more urine from their own bladders than they were taking from the other woman’s supply. Their kidneys were busy, and the apple juice was doing what apple juice does in women, giving up it’s nutrients to feed their active bodies, and the water carries unneeded matter down into their bladders to be expelled from their systems.

Lindy pumped her generator as hard as she could, experiencing brutal bladder shocks with each stroke to force more of her urine out into the other horsewoman’s lungs. Her opponent was doing the same, and she was in a sweat as she felt the effect of the bitch’s piss running into her lungs. She couldn’t believe how hard and how painful this was. Her lower body shot spasms as each shock to her bladder hit, and she was finding it more and more difficult to breathe as fresh warm piss spurted into her lungs, gradually filling them.

She knew the end was near for one of them, and she was desperate to kill the other woman before she herself was killed. It took all of her focus to continue to press the handle on the generator with her quickly increasing difficulty in breathing. She could see the men sitting back in their comfortable chairs, smoking their cigars and sipping whisky as the visible lady-pee was forced up the tubing that went into the noses of the competitors.

One of the men had opened his fly and was stroking his raging erection, which was dribbling pre-cum smegma as he watched the desperate struggle of the gorgeous naked women. Within minutes all four of the men were openly masturbating at the erotic sight of a pair of gorgeous nudes frantically attempting to kill each other.

Just for fun, Derrick Crane took up a whip and began to use it on Lindy’s bare back to encourage her to try harder. He had placed an incredible $100,000 bet on her success. The owner of the other woman matched him stroke for stroke on his Mare, and the nude ladies redoubled their efforts to be the first to drown her opponent.

Putting down his whip, Derrick stood and said to the other man “I think it’s time to add to their supply of liquid. I wonder how long it will take them to filter our piss through their kidneys, and then put it to work with their prime agenda?” He grasped Lindy’s hair, and pulled her mouth down onto his erection. Her mouth knew the impressive organ well, but she had only swallowed his semen, never the production of his kidneys.

The other man did the same to his horsewoman, and they emptied their bladders directly into the stomachs of their oxygen-deprived ladies. The heads of the men’s penises were into their throats well past the ladies’ tongues, which spared them the inconvenience of having to suffer the caustic taste of the men’s ample production of piss. With their lungs screaming for air, they would probably never have noticed the taste in their mouths.

When they had emptied their bladders into the women’s stomachs and withdrew their erect organs, the other two men moved in, both of them highly sexually stimulated by the degenerately obscene action, and ejaculated onto the ladies’ faces. Both highly distressed women knew to keep their eyes wide open, so that their eyeballs were covered with a generous coating of the men’s warm sperm. Now all 4 men had relieved themselves, one way or the other.

The cum in her eyes blurred her vision, but Lindy, feeling ready to collapse, her lungs filled with the other girl’s pee, barely notice the other girl fall onto her face, no longer having the strength to remain upright. Lindy immediately felt hands grasp her ankles, and they were jerked upward, pulling her upside down so that she hung with her head above the floor.

Heavy straps were bound around her ankles, and she hung swinging upside down, which allowed her to cough at long last, and expel some of the urine filling her lungs. Derrick Crane stood behind her, wrapped his arms around her chest, and applied the Heimlich maneuver. That triggered a massive spray of urine from her mouth. His unexpected assistance probably saved her life.

Drawing in air was extremely painful, but allowed her to cough repeatedly, and he continued the abrupt squeezing of her chest. Derrick had as much at stake as had Lindy. She was his horsewoman, and although he had knowing and willingly risked her life, he could make a lot of money from her performance in Dressage and equestricunt races, but not if she died.

Lungs resemble a sponge, not a bladder, and it was important both he and she continue to expel as much of the acrid liquid she had taken in from the unsuccessful woman’s bladder. Derrick continued to squeeze her chest in his powerful arms. As the piss trickled out of her lungs, more came up from her stomach, mixing in her throat and mouth both Derrick’s urine and that of the other girl. As air gained ground in her lungs, they once again became functional, giving her back some energy and color.

Blinking, she restored some of her vision in her cum-slicked eyes, and after the competing women’s plastic tubes were removed from their lungs and their bladders, Lindy saw her piss-drowning opponent being hauled over to the wall where her noose was placed over her head. One of the other two hanging there was still twitching and quivering, with a trickle of her piss dripping to the floor from her distended cunt. These guys played for fucking keeps!

The girl she had just defeated was near death, and she had received no relief from the considerable volume of Lindy’s pee flooding her lungs. It remained there, filling them, and she was rapidly and painfully drowning in Lindy’s piss. Both her brain and muscles were being deprived of life-giving oxygen. The defeated girl had at most moments to live.

The rope was tightened and she was hauled up by her slender neck, to join the other two bitches, too soon swing as lifeless as they were. Her body was twitching, her legs attempting to kick, and her limbs quivering in her final seconds. At last the tiny sphincter on her urethra fully relaxed, and she expelled a final spray of what urine remained in her electrode-punished bladder. The third horsewoman of the group was now a kill, and was officially reduced to dead meat. Somehow the men found this exciting and fulfilling.

At last Lindy was let down from her uncomfortable inverted position, still coughing piss from her lungs. The four men were sitting around the card table, enjoying the memory of the event now completed as they sipped their whisky and admired the three hanging cunt-carcasses. The butler took Lindy out of the tack room, through the barn and out to the Limo.

There were large towels on the back seat, and she needed them, as she was still bringing up warm piss from her lungs. She had somehow survived the horrific treatment by her Lord and Master, and now understood Derrick Crane bore no warm feelings for her. She was his property, and a piece of meat he was willing to gamble away.

A new realization struck her. There was to be no immunity for her from what she was learning were the enormous risks for horsewomen lured in to serve the perverted, demented individuals who made up the Most Secret Society. Life here was going to be filled with incredible risks and danger, for the entertainment of the members.

Derrick Crane’s gentlemanly behavior toward her was a sham. He was no better than any of the others of them. They were all total despots, degenerates, gaining enjoyment from the suffering and humiliation of women. Their every wish, no matter how bizarre and outrageous, was her command. This whole perverse adventure was proving to be for her absolutely, extremely and unequivocally exciting!

Lindy was their plaything, totally dependent on her Lord and Master, serving as his sophisticated play-toy, permitted to live only at his and his friends’ pleasure. She knew for certain after this experience that she was trapped, and would likely never see a city street or civilization again in her short life. And yet she clung to hope.


That is great.
Where can I read the full story?


PM me at with an e-mail address I can send it to.


And then there was one. Thank God it was Lindy, as she is the equestricunt protagonist of this story, which is just getting started.


If anyone's interested in reading the entire story, Most Secret Society is posted in the Extreme Stories section of, which is a free site.


Love it Regis and I`d love to read more about the little fucktoys!


Thanks, E-Sarah,

Lami Pi Productions is also posted in the Extreme Stories section of, which is a free site.




are there more hangings in the full story or are these the only ones?

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