Author’s Note: This reblog re-presents the fourth chapter of “The Ternish Betrayl” – but you can buy the complete e-book right now from AllTheseRoadworks.com for only $3.99 USD! (Click here to view in store.)
The people of Gusset Hill were in an ugly mood.
It was a medium-sized town in Terna – smaller than the capital, but larger than the border villages. The town was traditionally a farming community, but over the years of Ternish independence, it had grown to have a sizeable artisan community, specialising in cloth and clothing.
No one hated the Gartish Empire more than Gusset Hill. The original Ternish revolution had started in this very town, when the populace had responded to Gartish soldiers raping the mayor’s daughter by burning down the Gartish barracks and raising the flag of revolt.
And now not only had the Slut-Queen Kissy sold the nation of Terna back to the misogynistic Gartish Empire out of her whorish desire to serve the Emperor’s cock – leading to Gartish soldiers once more occupying Gusset Hill, and the construction of a new barracks – but she had the nerve to travel from the capital to give a speech to the town in person.
Gusset Hill were not filled with love for their queen.
The Queen’s procession rolled into town shortly before noon – a royal carriage for the queen, two well-appointed coaches for her aides, and an intimidating escort of Gartish soldiers – a full battalion, nearly 700 men. The coaches pulled up in the town square, and the Slut-Queen was helped out of her carriage and onto the town stage by a Gartish captain.
People muttered darkly when they saw the Slut-Queen’s costume. Her dress was expensive, gorgeous, pink silk – but instead of covering her breasts, it stopped just beneath them, in a lacy pillow atop which the Queen’s large, naked tits rested in full public view. A large ruby, taken from the Ternish Crown Jewels, hung from each nipple by a tight nipple clamp. The Queen’s hair was artfully styled, and her makeup impeccable – but there was a visible glob of something white and sticky on her nose and cheek, another near her mouth, and more on the upper slopes of her breasts. The people of Gusset Hill had little doubt what it was – the Queen was openly smeared with Gartish sperm, that she either chose not to clean away, or had been instructed not to by her Gartish masters.
Nevertheless, she stood on stage smiling – only blushing a little – and looking out over her subjects.
“Men and women of Gusset Hill,” she began.
A tall, sombre man in Gartish court dress, who had emerged from the same carriage as her – the Gartish ambassador – tapped slightly on the Slut-Queen’s shoulder, and shook his head.
Slut-Queen Kissy blushed, and began again. “Men and bitches of Gusset Hill,” she corrected herself, and the ambassador nodded approvingly.
There were angry mutters in the crowd.
“I come to you today to bring you good news,” she continued. “All of Terna has benefited from our new friendship with the Gartish Empire. We have too long been opposed to them, resulting in the loss of so many brave sons and enjoyable fucktoys of our nation. Now we are united again, and we reap the benefits of the improved safety that the Gartish army can provide us.”
The people of Gusset Hill looked at the hundreds of heavily-armed Gartish soldiers. They certainly didn’t *feel* safer.
“So it is with delight that I inform you that the Gartish Emperor has generously agreed to quarter a further 500 soldiers in Gusset Hill,” Kissy continued.
There were angry shouts at this, but the Queen ignored them.
“Until further extensions to the barracks can be constructed,” she said, “you will of course accommodate these soldiers in your homes. Where additional room needs to be found, the Gartish will provide easily constructed steel dog-cages that you can install in your yards and streets, which the women of your town can sleep in to free up beds for men.”
The shouts grew louder. On stage, the Gartish Captain casually moved his hand to the hilt of his sword, and the Gartish troops all took a step forward, and the shouts quietened, for the time being.
“But I also bring sad news,” said the Slut-Queen. “For we are beset by traitors.”
The people of Gusset thought that indeed, there were traitors, and the biggest one was on stage with her tits hanging out. But none dared say it aloud.
“Three nights ago, cowardly rebels planned an attack on our Gartish friends under cover of darkness,” said Slut-Queen Kissy. “Striking at the Gartish logistical centre for this region, they poisoned the feed of the helpless cows that the Gartish were relying on for food, killing the entire herd, and then set free the Gartish horses and spooked them, causing them to run wild into the hills.”
There were some surreptitious cheers at this, quickly silenced.
“These losses must be made up,” said Kissy. “The Gartish must be compensated. And I am pleased to say that we have caught one of the women responsible – a disobedient slut from Gusset Hill by the name of Verina.”
There were mutters. Verina was brave and well-liked. No one was surprised she had been involved in attacking the Gartish.
“We have extracted significant information from Verina by way of torture and repeated rape,” said Kissy. Then she blushed bright red. “The Gartish Ambassador even encouraged me to have a personal hand in defending my nation by raping the traitorous slut myself.” Kissy’s voice trailed off as if remembering something. “She had a very talented tongue…” she continued, in a distracted voice, before pausing, and gathering her thoughts together.
“In any case, the guilt of Gusset Hill is beyond doubt,” said Kissy. “So it is Gusset Hill that will make the amends.”
There was some laughter. A voice in the crowd called out, “We’re a farming town, your Highness, not a dairy town. We don’t have an army’s worth of cows and horses.”
“The Gartish army are adaptable,” said Slut-Queen Kissy. She paused, blushing again, as if she didn’t want to continue. She looked at the Ambassador, but he only looked back at her, and she averted her eyes and went back to her speech.
“So,” she said, “as it was the bitches of Gusset Hill who caused the damage, it is the bitches who will pay it back. Every girl-slut of Gusset Hill is to report to the Gartish barracks for an inspection of their body and measurement of their udders. Bitches with large udders will be pressed into service as Gartish cows. You will be induced to lactate, kept naked on all fours in Gartish custody, and milked three times a day, to provide milk for the Gartish forces. You will be subject to procedures to increase your udder size, improve your milk flow, and make you docile and obedient. Your cunts and mouths will be used for stress-relief by the Gartish forces.”
There were angry yells from the crowd now, and people were getting belligerent. But the Gartish had the people of Gusset Hill surrounded, and the soldiers now levelled their pikes against the populace. There was no opportunity for resistance.
“As for bitches with small udders,” continued Kissy relentlessly, “you will be the new Gartish ponies. You will be kept gagged with a bit, your hands bounds so you cannot manipulate things with your fingers or thumbs, your anus plugged with a pony tail to identify your status, and your cunts plugged with a vibrating device to keep your thoughts focused on your true identities as whores. You will pull the Gartish carriages and carts – at first with the full strength of your bodies, but in time you will learn to have your burdens leashed to your tits and cunt, so that your work keeps you in sexual agony. Training will be provided to help you adjust to your new roles as sub-human animals.”
The people of Gusset Hill did fight now – and were beaten almost immediately. The Gartish soldiers smashed the rebellion out of the townsfolk brutally, and once the people had become quiet, nursing their bloodied noses and bruised bones, two of the prettiest and most violent women in the crowd were pulled up on stage, publicly stripped, and raped by several of the Gartish soldiers, just to make it clear how little power Gusset Hill really had.
There was silence as the raping happened. Slut-Queen Kissy just stared as the soldiers pushed cocks into the cunts and mouths of the naked girls – until the ambassador whispered something in her ear. Blushing, Kissy raised the front of her dress – revealing a nude, shaved cunt, free of underwear to the entire crowd. She lowered a hand to her pussy and began to bashfully masturbate as she watched the two girls being raped. When the soldiers were done with the girls, Kissy went awkwardly over to the two women. One by one, she grabbed each by the hair, and made the woman lick the Queen’s cunt for a few minutes. Then she went behind each girl, got down on all fours, and licked the Gartish cum from the girl’s pussy while masturbating.
The Slut-Queen visibly and publicly orgasmed while tongue-raping the second girl.
Two weeks later, the transition of Gusset Hill was well underway. A large barn had been erected for the “Gartish cows”, and a complex was being built for the “ponies”.
The Slut-Queen had returned to the capital after her speech, but now she was back again, requesting a tour of the facilities.
“As you can see, your Whorishness,” said the Herdmaster of the dairy barn, as he led the Queen through the cow stalls, “things are progressing very well.”
“Excellent,” said the Slut-Queen, in a shaky, embarrassed voice. Her tits were again exposed, and she had raised her skirt and was masturbating constantly as she looked at the naked women on all fours in their stalls. The rumour was that the Gartish Ambassador required her to publicly masturbate any time she saw a woman being degraded or abused.
“May I ask the purpose of your Whorishness’ visit?” asked the Herdmaster.
Kissy blushed. “The Gartish Ambassador has requested that I attend Gusset Hill and personally arrange for the treatment of these sluts to be at least 20% more painful, to increase milk output by 30%, and to improve the procedures for ensuring their submission. Perhaps you should show me one of the cows.”
The Herdmaster led the Queen to the stall of a pretty blonde big-titted girl. The girl was nude, on all fours. A series of bars in the cell – above her back, near her arms, between her legs, and on either side of her tits – made it impossible for her to move significantly in any direction. A set of industrial milk-suction-cups were attached to her udders, and a motor was chugging rhythmically, sucking milk from her breasts in a manner that was obviously uncomfortable for her. A ball-gag was stuffed into her mouth, and a leather collar was around her neck, bearing a cowbell, and a name tag showing her name as “SPERMABELLE”, and reciting information about her tit size and milk production.
“Is that really what her parents named her?” asked Kissy.
“Oh no,” said the Herdmaster. “I think she was called Daya. She was a real hellcat. She didn’t submit to the inspections, and when we sent men to bring her in, she kicked three of them right in the crotch, and near clawed out the eyes of another one. I’ve never seen soldiers have so much fun raping a girl as they did with this one after they finally brought her down. We give them new names once we bring them in as cows – it helps them adjust to their new lives by distancing them from their old ones.”
Spermabelle looked up at Kissy with hateful, rebellious eyes. She may not be able to move, but it was clear she would like to hurt or kill Kissy if she had the chance. Kissy shivered.
“She’s a big-titted bitch,” said Kissy, regarding the cow.
“Oh, her fuckbags were large enough when we brought her in,” said the Herdmaster, “but we’ve been giving her the Gartish formula they use in their slut-dairies. By application over six months, you can as much as triple the udder size of the average cow. By the time we’re done, even if she got free, she’d have trouble finding clothes that fit, and moving at more than a slow waddle would be agonising for her.”
“How do you give her this treatment?” asked Kissy.
“By injection, through cannula,” said the Herdmaster.
“Is there any reason you can’t inject it directly into her tits?” asked Kissy.
“It would be incredibly painful…” said the Herdmaster.
“Good,” said Kissy. “Make it happen. And the milking – is there any way that can hurt her more?”
“Well, we had to wait to start milking her,” said the Herdmaster, “because when the guards brought her in, they bruised her tits something fierce, and they were just too sensitive to take the milkers.”
“By too sensitive,” said Kissy, “do you mean it would permanently damage her? Or just that it would be agonising?”
“Ah – just agonising, your Whorishness,” said the Herdmaster.
“Well, then,” said Kissy – and her voice sounded choked as she said this, as if she couldn’t believe she was saying this – “I’d like you to arrange for all the cows to have their udders bruised twice weekly, to increase the pain of their milking. A belt across the tits should suffice – or alternatively your soldiers could use the cows’ udders for boxing practice?”
And as she said this, she gasped, and orgasmed. The Herdmaster looked away, a little embarrassed. But Kissy’s masturbation continued, even after the orgasm passed.
“Yes, your Whorishness,” he said. “I’ll see it happens.”
“Now, ungag this cow,” said Kissy. “I wish to use her mouth.”
The Herdmaster opened the stall, and removed Spermabelle’s ball gag.
“Traitor!” spat the cow immediately. “You fucking bitch! You sold out your own people – your own gender! If you think I’m going to lick your whore cunt…”
“Herdmaster, lift her up,” said Kissy. “I think her tits need her first bruising.”
The Herdmaster lifted Spermabelle upright, ensuring her hands were restrained behind her back.
“Her cunt is wet,” said Kissy. “Why is that?”
“A side effect of the tit treatment,” said the Herdmaster. “It keeps them constantly horny. You should hear them beg for rape sometimes in the evenings. Of course, they’re only supposed to moo. This one would normally get a punishment for using human words as if she were people.”
“Very good,” said Kissy. Still masturbating with her left hand, she pulled her right hand back and punched the girl in the tits. The girl squealed and winced. Then Kissy punched her other breast – and then began to work back and forth, punching and slapping at the girl’s udders. She had clearly not been fully milked, as milk squirted from her nipples on many of the hits.
The girl spat, and swore at Kissy, but Kissy kept going until the girl’s tits had turned a deep, bruised purple. The Slut-Queen masturbated all the while – orgasming twice as she abused the cow. Finally, when she judged she had done enough, she drew back her high-heeled royal shoe – and kicked the cow hard in the cunt.
“I thought so,” said Kissy. “Let this be a lesson to you. All women are nothing but whores.” She turned to the Herdmaster. “Return her to her place, and resume the milking.”
Spermabelle screamed as the suction cups went back on her bruised tits and the motor started up. She was still screaming when Kissy stepped forward, grabbed Spermabelle’s hair, and forced the cow’s mouth against the Queen’s cunt.
It took a moment for Spermabelle to begin obediently licking, but once she did, it didn’t take long for Kissy to cum.
Later in the day, the Stablemaster – a rough, hulking man, who didn’t seem overly impressed by Kissy’s royal status – demonstrated the progress that had been made on the Gartish ponies.
“This is a mother and daughter team,” he said, indicating a pair of brunettes. Both women had their mouths forced open by a bit. Unlike horses, they didn’t have a sufficient gap behind their back teeth to hold the bit, so were unable to close their mouths with it inside. The women were naked but for a leather collar, high leather boots, and leather gloves. The gloves were connected at the thumbs, trapping the women’s hands behind their backs.
“Do they have names?” asked Kissy.
“We call the daughter Slutpepper,” said the Stablemaster. “Because she’s a bit fiery. And the mother is Fuckrose. She’s a fine filly, very obedient.” He gestured to a pair of small chariots. “Later these two will work together to pull a carriage, but for now they’re very suitable for personal chariots. Would your Whorishness care for a ride?”
“I would,” said the Queen, and the Stablemaster began to hook up the chariots.
“They’ll take most of the weight on their shoulders and hips,” said the Stablemaster, fitting the two bitches with a leather harness. “But if they want to go forward, they’ll have to use this.” He held up a rounded metal hook, connected by a wooden beam to the front of the chariot.. He passed it between the girls’ legs, and inserted the dildo-like end into each girl’s pussy. “They’ll be pulling using their cunt, and each step will fuck the device in and out of them.”
The Stablemaster helped the Queen into her chariot, and Slutpepper grunted as her shoulders took the Queen’s weight. Then the Stablemaster connected a heavy clamp to each of Slutpepper’s nipples, and another one to her clitoris, and then attached a long leather strap to each clamp. He passed these to the Queen.
“Pull on her left tit to make her turn left, her right tit to go right, and her clit to make her start or stop,” said the Stablemaster.
“I thought the reins were traditionally connected to the bit?” asked Kissy.
“Horses lead with their heads,” said the Stablemaster, “but bitches think with their tits and cunts. We find this is more effective. The bit is just to keep them silent and remind them of their place.”
The Stablemaster set up Fuckrose with his own chariot, and then each of them tugged hard on the clit of their pony – producing a muffled squeal through the bit – and they were off, the girls jogging naked through the village, fucking the hook into their pussies on each stride.
“How is Gusset Hill taking the changes?” asked Kissy.
“Very well, your Whorishness,” said the Stablemaster. “All women of age have been migrated into the cow or pony programs, and we keep the rest nude.”
They were trotting now past the main square. Two Gartish cows had been secured into stocks on the stage Kissy had spoken from two weeks ago. A Gartish soldier was fucking the cunt of the blonde cow, while a younger brunette was being vigorously used by a local teenaged boy.
“And the men?” asked the Queen. “Two weeks ago they seemed ready to rebel.”
“Well, we have some experience of this in Gart, your Whorishness,” said the Stablemaster. “It’s simply a matter of helping the men understand that these sluts are not humans like themselves, but rather livestock and sex toys. The men are required to report to visit the women in their lives twice weekly – their wives, daughters, sisters, etc. We let them see the bitches in their new agricultural roles, to help them replace their images of the women walking freely on two legs with new memories of them crawling naked, being milked, et cetera.”
“And this works?” asked the Slut-Queen.
“It helps,” said the Stablemaster. “But then we have the women try to get the men to beat and rape them. If they’re not able to get their fathers or brothers to bruise them and then cum inside them, we put them to far worse tortures afterwards. The men know this, so even the compassionate ones will accept the women’s entreaties to slap them, spank their cunts and rape them. Afterwards, the women thank them. We find that there’s only so many times a man can rape and beat an unwilling woman before he needs to rationalise his behaviour by recategorising her as an animal. And of course, many of the more forward-thinking men in the town come to enjoy using the women this way, and become unwilling to go back to how things used to be.”
Slut-Queen Kissy looked simultaneously aroused and ill at the Stablemaster’s explanation. “That’s very creative,” she said, uncertainly.
“They have you to thank, your Whorishness,” said the Stablemaster. “This is all because of your leadership.”
The ponies had carried them out of town, to a lush grassy hill out of sight of the buildings in the town. As they reached it, Kissy’s pony – Slutpepper – orgasmed visibly, and then slowed to a stop. The Stablemaster used the clit leash to rein in his own mount.
“Why are we stopping?” asked Kissy.
“Well, I received a communication from the Ambassador today,” said the Stablemaster. “He’s very pleased with my progress too. He’s so pleased, he said that as a reward, he’s allowing me to rape the Queen.”
“What?” asked Kissy, startled.
“I have a writ here, permitting me to sexually use you in any way that doesn’t permanently damage you,” said the Stablemaster, dismounting and taking Slutpepper’s reins from Kissy. “Although really all I want to do is cum in that tight royal cunt.”
“I’m your Queen…” Kissy protested.
“Shut your face-cunt, your Whorishness,” said the Stablemaster. “We know who really rules in Terna now. Now, me, I like my courtships to have a little bit of the chase in them. It’s always so much better to rape a bitch after she’s felt the brief hope of escape transition to powerlessness and despair.” He grinned. “So why don’t you start running, slut?”
She looked at him.
“And I reckon you’d better be fingering your bitch-hole as you run,” he told her, “because I’m told you’re required to masturbate when a bitch is being raped.”
He reached out and pulled at her dress, ripping it from her body, leaving her nude, and grinned.
Her eyes widened. She put her hand between her legs, began frantically stroking her clitoris and, as best as she could, she ran.
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