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CHAPTER TWELVE—THE STABLES
"You'll be able to just see Emerson over that rise, milady, so this should be the turn-off you mentioned," Daka told her, pointing out the gravel track heading north over the green hills.
"Stop the team," she commanded him.
Daka pulled gently on the reins and the mares slowed to a stop. They were near the edge of exhaustion, he could tell, but their spirit was such that he knew they'd collapse before they'd quit.
The mares were mud-brown, streaked with over twelve hours of road dust and sweat. Their manes were straggly and if it wasn't for the stiff high collars their heads would've been hanging.
His mistress produced a small waterskin from beneath the bench seat, and a rag.
"Give them water," she told him. "Not more than half. Use the rest to clean them up. I've got a brush for their hair also."
The ponies sucked eagerly at the bag's spout and wanted more than he was allowed to give. Using the water sparingly he wet the rag and scrubbed the dirt and salty sweat crust from their bodies, then did as best he could with the brush on their hair. They weren't perfect when he was finished, but they didn't look like they'd just run nearly nonstop for twelve hours either.
"Here," his mistress said, producing another wooden box from underneath the seat. Daka opened it and found two odd-looking tailplugs and a tube of grease.
While rare in the Wash, Daka had nevertheless handled dozens of tailplugs in his time. Except for slight cosmetic and dimensional differences they were all pretty much the same: an anatomically shaped rubber oblong several inches long designed to nestle snugly in the mare's lower intestine. Narrow at the bottom and wide at the top to keep the mare from pushing it out, the plug also sported a flared flat oval base that kept the plug from being sucked into the mare's body. The base served as a platform for the decorative tail. Most tails were eight to twelve inches long, stiff, and topped with a tassel of some sort.
The plugs his mistress handed him were the strangest design he'd ever seen. The part to be inserted had to be six inches long, but barely thicker than the thumb-thick shaft near the base. And instead of a disk or oval base, the plugs had rubber fingers perpendicular to the plug that acted as stoppers, designed to fit between the mares muscular cheeks. He could see no reason to the design; however, tail plugs were purely ornamental and maybe plugs like these were favored by his mistress' clan. He glanced from the plug in his hands up at his mistress, and apparently the confusion was evident on his face.
"Press the button at the base of the tail," she told him. Frowning, Daka found the tiny button she meant and pushed it. There was a quiet hissing sound and the part of the plug which was to be inserted swelled in his hand until it was nearly as big around as his fist. The narrow shaft just above the fingered base remained the same size, just a hair thicker than his thumb.
"Inflatable," his mistress told him. "They will not come out, no matter what. Hold the button down and squeeze the bulb and it will deflate."
Daka greased the plugs and inserted them one at a time with care after greasing up the mares' bulging sphincters with his fingers. Their rings of muscle were surprisingly loose. They hardly seemed tight enough to keep from gapping open. The ponies ignored him as he pushed the rubbed shafts into them, ignored him until he hit the buttons to inflate their plugs. Then they grunted, bent over and spread their legs slightly to adjust to the pressure. Their rings bulged twice as much with the inflated plugs inserted. Once they were in he tugged on the tails to make sure the fit was snug enough to keep the plugs from ejecting, but as large as the plugs were he could hardly believe that might happen. The tails jutted up and back at a jaunty angle, their twelve-inch shafts braided leathyr around a spring steel core.
"I was told it was just under two miles from here," his mistress said. Daka climbed back into the cab and sat beside her. "Be aware," she told him. "We could have eyes on us at any time."
She flicked the reins. "Proud!" she called out. The mares broke into a high-stepping showy trot and turned north onto the narrower trail. Their breasts bounced wildly but in unison, and the ends of their tails bobbed in time as they pulled the carriage up and down gentle grass covered slopes.
After only a few minutes a sprawling estate came into view. Daka saw a host of low buildings, one and two stories tall, spread out over acres of land. The buildings were all made of wood, but were surrounded by a tall stone wall.
As the ponies pulled the carriage down a long gradual slope the estate buildings sank out of sight behind the wall. The level land around the wall was planted with crops. Daka could pick out lettuce, cabbage, and soy beans, plus several other crops he didn't recognize. They'd been climbing steadily for hours, and quite a few more varieties could survive in the hills than in the unforgiving heat and sand of the water station.
After the land leveled out the ponies still needed ten minutes to pull the carriage close to the big gate, high-stepping the whole way. Daka studied the twelve foot reinforced wall with interest but also glanced at the workers already toiling in the fields. The women wore widebrimmed hats to shade themselves and their high-heeled knee-high boots included kneepads for the hours they spent shuffling down the rows, weeding and tending. The harsh sun and the long hours of work each day had taken their toll on the laborers. They were all whipcord thin and burned brown by the sun, and must have been herded into the fields before dawn. They were all branded, which told him their status.
Two broadmares were hooked up to plows and were busily digging new rows into the earth. The women working the plows had a hard time keeping up with the huge ponies. Daka tried not to stare at them—he hadn't seen purebred broads in years and he'd forgotten how big they were. A crew boss kept everyone in their place and busy at work. She wore kneeboots and a hat also, but was the only woman wearing any sort of clothing out in the field, black leathyr chaps to protect her legs as she walked the rows. She carried a Reminder, a four-foot cane whip used to refocus a laborer's attentions. From her build (and brand) Daka guessed she'd been promoted out of the fields.
The twelve foot wall was grey and smooth along its entire length, except for the double wooden doors of the gate which sat astride the end of the gravel road. Two women appeared at the top corners of the gate as the carriage approached. Daka saw they carried lightning sticks just like the one his mistress had used and just for a second panicked. They wore chest plates and helmets and he could just see them pointing their sticks his way and vaporizing both the carriage and him.
With a flick his mistress halted the team a dozen feet from the towering wooden gate. She pulled back her hood and looked up at the guards so they could see her face.
"Identify yourself," a guard called out.
"Lady Koho-Sen of the Flower Clan," Daka's mistress called out. "Here by the personal invitation of your mistress."
"Clan Hetaerae welcomes Lady Koho-Sen of Flower Clan," the guard responded formally. "Lady Lena welcomes you." The guard gestured and the big wooden gate began to swing open toward the team.
"Remember, do not speak until spoken to, and keep your robe on unless directed otherwise," his mistress murmured to Daka.
When the two-foot-thick door had swung all the way open she drove the carriage into the compound and stopped. Daka looked around curiously. They were in a huge courtyard. Away from the gate the gravel road became cobblestone and led to a large building off to one side that had to be the stables. A gravel track ten feet wide ran along the inside of the wall but otherwise the grounds were covered in closely trimmed grass.
Two of Lady Lena's maids waited just inside the gate, elegantly robed in Clan Hetaerae's colors of purple and red.
"M'Lady, you grace us with your presence," one said. "All of the others have arrived, please come with us and we will show you to your room. You have time to wash up first if you so desire."
Lady Koho-Sen gracefully descended from the carriage and looked about. The wall around them was dotted with guards, standing on a walkway that ran along the inside of the wall halfway up. The massive gate was slowly swung shut behind the carriage, and a foot-thick crossbar was slid into place.
"Lady Lena apologizes for not greeting you herself but she is busy with arrangements," the maid said.
Daka's Mistress nodded. "The boy will stay with the team. Please show him to the stables, and inform the Stablemaster that he is an experienced pony-handler and should be put to work."
"Of course M'lady." They both bowed their heads at her, faces hidden inside their hoods. Daka could see nothing of them at all. Their faces were in shadow, their hands tucked inside voluminous sleeves, and the colorful robes brushed the ground as they stood.
One of the maids turned and led his Mistress toward the main house along a flagstone path. The other, who had yet to speak, turned and started down the cobblestone road. When, after she'd gone a dozen steps, Daka still hadn't stirred, she turned back to look at him from inside the shadowed hood.
Daka clucked at the team and they started forward after the robed woman. Their progress was slow; the woman was only taking six-inch steps, and Daka wondered if perhaps she was hobbled underneath the robe.
Eventually they neared the stables. It was a large wooden building to one side of the compound, solidly constructed but of simple design. The maid pulled her hands from her sleeves to slide open the stable door and Daka saw her wrists were cuffed in leathyr and connected by a short chain.
Daka stopped the team outside the door and climbed down from the carriage. The maid waited until he walked up and then turned and entered the building, removing her hood as she shuffle-stepped into the darkened interior. Daka waited at the doorway with the team and watched the maid approach a large blonde woman. The maid had dark brown hair twisted into a long braid that disappeared down the back of her robe. Daka watched the back of her head as she bent close to the blonde woman, who was mostly hidden behind a stall door. The blonde flicked her eyes in Daka's direction, then nodded. The maid bowed her head slightly, then turned and shuffled back toward Daka.
He stared curiously at the black leathyr binder she wore on her face, the like of which he'd never seen. Her tall, stiff collar rose up to cover her mouth and jaw, ending just beneath her nose. It was molded to the shape of her face, and a shiny zipper ran up the center of the collar, its tab pressed against the base of her nose. The small silver ring piercing her septum ran through the hole in the tab and kept the zipper from sliding down.
As she drew close she stared at him with big brown eyes, soft and beautiful. Beneath the half-mask her gaze was unreadable, and she passed him without making a sound. As she stepped into the morning light she pulled her hood over her head once more and stuffed her hands inside the baggy sleeves of her robe.
"So you're supposed to know your way around a mount?"
Daka turned back and found himself face to face with the big blonde. Her thick hair was in a ponytail that reached the middle of her back. Her round face was plain and unremarkable, but her eyes studied Daka carefully, looking him over head to toe with an expert gaze.
"Yes m'lady."
"Well, we'll see." She looked over his shoulder. "That's Lady Koho-Sen's team, right? They've got to be tired." She looked him over again, pursing her lips.
"I've got a full house in here," she said, "what with the meeting. I suppose I could use the help. Unhook 'em and bring them in," she directed. "You can feed and water them, at least."
"Yes milady."
"I'm the StableMistress," she scolded him. "It's not proper to refer to me as Milady. I am Uma Koi. Call me by my name or my title."
"Yes m—ma'am," Daka replied.
Uma was nearly as tall as he was, with a bigger frame – large and muscular, with abundant curves. She wore tight black leathyr chaps over high-heeled black boots. A black leathyr triangle covered her mound but bare flesh peeked all around it whenever she moved. Her waist was narrowed by a steel-reinforced leathyr corset. The high-rise corset rose above her large breasts, which were pushed up and together by smooth leathyr detachable cups.
As she turned and strode back into the stables Daka saw the stablemistress' bare muscular buttocks bisected by the narrow string of her g-string. He also noticed her left cheek was branded several times. First the clan mark of ownership, and then the brand beneath that signifying she'd been freed and was now a citizen. From the obvious power in her huge thighs Daka assumed she was a former mount. Who knew better how to tend to ponies than a former mount? She was perhaps twice his age, past her prime as a pony. Mounts were usually retired around age thirty-five, after twenty-plus years in the bit. Much beyond that and their strength and endurance dropped off precipitously.
Daka unhooked his Mistress' team and led them into the cool stables. The building smelled of sweat, leathyr, and PonyMix. There were stalls to either side as he led Lei into the center of the stables, where he found four separate washing stalls and a large open wash area, all with new appliances and in pristine condition. This was where the other ponies were gathered. Daka was a bit overwhelmed; he hadn't seen this many ponies together since two teams of eight heading in opposite directions had shown up at the water depot on the same day.
"Tether your team in that washing stall and then I'll show you where to take the carriage," Uma instructed him, nodding at a vacant stall. She was in the middle of washing the ponies. To his trained eye it appeared most of the other mounts had also just arrived and were still frisky from the run. A few were in stalls but at least half a dozen were lashed to a steel bar running down the center of the washing area, out of their leathyrs and still dripping from the hose.
The carriage went into a building attached to the back of the stables. The barn-like structure wasn't small but was crowded nonetheless with carriages. Daka only had a second to look them over but it was obvious they were all of the highest quality and latest designs.
Back in the washing stall he deftly stripped and scrubbed down Lei and their leathyrs. He'd washed ponies so many times it was like second nature to him, and he used the time to observe the StableMistress and the strange mounts.
Daka was pretty sure there were some ponies in the back of the stables. He'd heard movement back there, at least three or four ponies, and figured there had to be at least three times that many stationed at an estate this size. Besides them, and his own two charges, he counted ten other ponies. Four or five teams, he wasn't sure.
There were two strong young dark-skinned ponies, their buttocks unnaturally high and jutting. Their skin was coal black from the constant sun, their brands raised patterns on the smooth ebony flesh but not perceptibly darker.
Before him was perhaps the oldest mount he'd ever seen. Her skin was like aged leathyr, brown and crisscrossed with lines. However, most ponies he handled tended to wrinkle young in the harsh desert sun, so that made it hard to judge age. And with almost zero body fat even the oldest mounts' bodies were taut. Daka guessed she was at least two if not three times his age. Her hair was the biggest clue to her age—a short brushcut, liberally shot through with grey. Her body was as trim as any he'd seen, though; a narrow waist and washboard stomach flaring into powerful muscular buttocks and thighs. Her breasts were small and flat on her freckled brown chest, mostly nipple.
There was a team of four, all sun-bleached brunettes, unremarkable except for the fact that their ownership was indicated by black tattoos rather than brands.
What drew Daka's attention most was the apple-cheeked strawberry blonde pony. She was young—very young. If he'd had to judge her by her face alone he wouldn't have guessed she was even half his age, but her body told him a much different story. Of unremarkable height, she had the largest thighs he'd ever seen on any human. Front to back they were the thickest part of her body, each one as big around as Daka's waist. She also had the largest breasts he'd seen on a pony. Not the largest breasts he'd seen; the chunky wetnurse who'd pierced his organ had had teats larger than his head, but still these were much larger than any he'd ever seen on a pony.
Her skin was flushed a healthy pink across the top of her breasts, matching the red circles on her cheeks. Her breasts, meaty and pendulous, pointed down at a forty-five degree angle. She had hardly any pigment change between breast and nipple, which were big rubbery-looking things pierced with thick gold rings. She was frisky and shifting constantly from foot to foot. The nose between her legs was oversized and engorged with blood, so big Daka imagined it jiggled when she ran; the pony kept squeezing her thighs together but it was obvious she wanted more. She was alone in a washing stall, collar chained to a hook and still in her armbinder, dancing around like the floor was too hot for her feet. The problem was that it had only been a two hour run to Lady Lena's estate, and she was the oldest of a new high-performance genbred the royal genesplicers were justifiably proud of. A two-hour run in the cool air before dawn hadn't even been enough for her to break a sweat.
The pony's leathyrs had been washed and were thrown over the stall partition to dry. Daka studied their strange cut and finally decided the two leathyr straps on the front of the corset must go through the busty mount's nipple rings. Then her breasts could be tightly buckled down while she ran to keep them from flopping (the large breasts being an unforeseen side-effect of the in-utero hormone cascades).
The final two ponies looked like they'd arrived only minutes before. Uma was still removing their leathyrs. Daka had found it was always harder for him to discern age and conditioning on darkskinned mounts, and these last two were as black as midnight, but even so their physiques were arresting.
The two mares had long thick manes of shimmering black hair that reached to the middles of their backs. They were young, too; the longer Daka studied them, the more he was convinced they were younger than he, perhaps by as much as two or three years. Common sense told him they should be one-year-olds at most, but his frame of reference had been totally thrown off by this quick-maturing, "genbred" stock. These blackskinned mares didn't even look full-grown yet and here they were, pulling (what he assumed was) a royal's carriage.
Even though they hadn't yet reached mature size, their thighs were enormous. Black trunklike columns of muscle topped with high round buttocks that looked hard as stone. When they finished filling out Daka was sure their thighs would be even bigger than those of the chesty strawberry blonde, which seemed impossible.
The two young ponies had no breasts at all, and Daka wasn't convinced they ever would, even after they'd finished growing. They were obviously bred to run, and breasts were unnecessary. Their nipples were black on black, flat against their ribcages, which rippled with sheets of muscle. He didn't know what stock they came from—all he knew was that they were the finest specimens he'd ever seen. Their muscle shape and definition was spectacular, and they were obviously in exemplary condition.
The black leathyr mulierre straps were almost invisible against their skin. Uma undid the bluckle at the front of the corset and the tightly cinched strap fell into her hand. The palm-width straps went between the pony's legs and were used most often when training a pony. The tight strap stimulated them, distracted them from their work. After a few years their little noses were destined to become desensitized from the constant rubbing, and the trainers could remove the straps and work on perfecting the pony's form. If the strap wasn't used, frisky mares sometimes ran with their legs close together for stimulation, which encouraged poor form.
Uma removed the mulierre straps and the attached tailplugs, then went to work unlacing the tight corsets. The noses between the two mares' legs spring up. They were the largest Daka had ever seen, bigger than his thumb, hooded with dusky flesh. They were black except for their tips, which were light pink and shaped like the end of Daka's own organ.
These two mares were frisky as well and kept trying to clamp their thighs around Uma's. They snorted and huffed, teeth brilliantly white against the black rubber-coated steel bits. Uma cursed under her breath and smacked the friskier of the two hard on one buttock. It only encouraged her pelvic thrusts.
"They must have to run you two four hours a day just to keep you calm," Uma murmured. "Are you about done over there boy?" she said in exasperation. "I've got to strap these two down before they ruin my leathyrs." Her chaps were slimy where the mares had been humping her thighs.
"Yes ma'am." He hooked Lei to the wall and hurried over to help the StableMistress.
Daka pried the friskiest ebony pony off Uma's leg, sidestepped to avoid her gripping thighs, and hooked her collar ring to a hanging bar with a section of chain he found. He located a spreader bar which he locked around her ankles, then proceeded to undo her armbinder once she was immobilized.
Daka deftly unlaced the armbinder and before any feeling returned to the young mare's arms he'd hooked her wrist cuffs to the hanging bar.
Uma, who'd just managed to fit her troublesome charge with a spreader bar, was shocked to see how quickly Daka had immobilized the other mount.
"It seems like you do know your way around a mount," she told him as he cranked the hanging bar up until his mare was barely touching the floor. She stopped struggling so fiercely and watched him with flaring nostrils. He undid her corset, then removed her hoofboots, when Uma nodded that it was okay.
"None of the ladies should be leaving for at least a day, maybe as many as three," Uma told him.
He reattached the spreader bar after he'd pulled her boots off and then began washing the mare.
"Where did you learn your way around a pony?" Uma asked him as she lathered up her pony.
"I was a stablehand at a water depot before my Mistress bought me."
"Why don't you take off your robe, you're getting it all wet."
Daka paused slightly. It was what he'd normally do, but he had his orders. "No thank you ma'am, I'm fine."
They left the two ponies dripping in the stall and circled the seven hooked to the steel bar in the tiled open area. There was the team of four brunettes, the older silverhaired mare, and the other darkskinned duo. All of them had been stripped of their leathyrs and wore only their posture collars, rubber coated bits, and their leathyr cuffs, their wrists hooked together and wedged up behind their backs, as usual, between their shoulder blades. The mares were all on one side of the chest-high horizontal bar, bent over slightly. Their collar rings were clipped to the steel beam.
Uma went into a vacant stall and grabbed a long thick sheet of heavy foam padding, about a foot wide, with indentations in it. She slid it into place in front of the mares' feet and then with a crank began to lower the bar.
The mares bent lower and lower as Uma cranked, until finally they had to drop to their knees, and Daka saw that was what the indentations were for. They cupped and protected the mares' knees shoulder width apart.
Uma cranked and cranked until the bar dropped closer to the floor. The mares' heads were forced ever lower, until the bar was four inches off the floor. Their breasts were pressed firmly into their thighs, and their rears had started to rise up a bit.
"How often did you have to flush mounts?" Uma asked him, locking the bar into position. Daka looked at the row of rumps before him, pointing outward, buttocks lightly resting on heels.
"Several times a week, usually," Daka answered. Hardly any of the ponies passing through the water depot sported tailplugs, but PonyMix, as nutritious as it was, had a drawback—it created hard, sometimes painfully so, stools. Flushing working ponies was a pretty common practice, but it was a necessity with any mount that regularly wore a tailplug to avoid dangerously impacted colons.
"Good, so you've had some experience." She went into a darkened corner and wheeled a large metal box into view. It was chest-high and over two feet square, with a confusing array of buttons and rubber hoses.
"This is an automatic flushing machine," Uma told him. "Brand new. You can clean out four mounts at once with this, and it doesn't require any cleanup. No more squatting over a waste bucket to empty them out. It's real simple to use."
She grabbed one of the hoses and showed it to Daka. Its rounded metal nozzle had fluid vents in the side, and an odd rubber collar similar to an hourglass where the metal nozzle joined the rubber hose.
Uma greased up the nozzle and the anus of the first mare in line. She pushed the thumb-sized nozzle into the pony until just the end of the hourglass-shaped rubber collar was visible.
"That's the automatic tension collar," she told Daka. "Watch." She pushed a blue button above where the hose entered the machine and with a muted hiss the collar filled with air, expanding to twice its original diameter. The pony gave a little start.
"Don't pay any attention to that," Uma said, waving a hand at the startled pony. "The collar will automatically inflate to whatever pressure is necessary to effect a good seal. Could be bigger than that, could be smaller. Now watch." She hit a green button next, beside the blue button. The metal box began to hum.
"It'll spend about ten minutes pumping a special solution into her," she told Daka. "Again, it stops when it senses a certain level of back pressure. To help the mare accommodate more of the solution you can massage its belly, like this," she demonstrated for Daka. "When it's full, the machine waits another ten minutes or so. The solution it pumps in dissolves the waste material into a thick liquid, which is then pumped out of the pony. That takes another ten minutes, followed by half a dozen or so rinsing flushes. When the machine is done this yellow light right here above the hose will light up."
"Okay," Daka said. What an improvement! It was so much simpler and less messy than the traditional method.
"The ponies might get a bit unruly when the machine starts flushing them out," Daka told him. "That's normal. I've tried the machine myself, and it's quite a sensation. Now, I wasn't you to hook up the other three like I showed you while I get them some Mix."
"Yes ma'am," he said a bit uneasily. He wasn't sure if he remembered all the steps, but he didn't want to say anything, she'd think he was stupid.
Much to his relief he got the next three ponies in line hooked up without incident. The first one was groaning a little around her bit so he massaged her stomach. It felt a little distended, but he wasn't sure.
Uma set bowls of PonyMix and water before the ponies and undid their bits. They all began eating voraciously, the flushing machine apparently not distracting the four mounts at all.
"When they're done you have to clean off the nozzles and empty out the collection tank and refill the solution reservoir," Uma told him. "I'll show you how. But other than these three, none of the other mares were on the road long enough to get impacted. Unless yours need to be flushed out?"
"No, they're fine," he told her.
Uma nodded. "Okay, then, while that group is eating, let's bring off these two ebonies over here or there'll be no end of trouble."
"Ma'am?"
"Bring them off," she said. "They're too frisky." She looked at his confused expression. "Haven't you ever masturbated a high-spirited mare to get it to relax or fall asleep?"
"No ma'am. By the time most teams got to our water depot they were so hot and tired they fell asleep when I was washing them."
"All right. I guess I should teach you this, you're going to need to learn the skill. D'you play around at all with any of the local girls?" she asked him. "It's not too different."
"No ma'am."
"Never?" She didn't seem to believe him.
"Our depot was in the middle of the Wash, ma'am. There was just me and my master."
"Oh really?" she said, expressing more interest. "What about ponies? You ever play around with some of them?"
"No ma'am! No way, I would've gotten into so much trouble."
Uma looked him over carefully, trying to discern his shape under the robe.
"Hmmm. I don't think I've come a across a . . . well, have to save that for later," she said to herself. "Here, help me," she told him.
Daka lowered the hanging bar for the first young black pony. Uma told him to keep going until the bar was on the floor and the girl had sat down. Uma unhooked the mare's ankles from the spreader bar one by one and rehooked them to the hanging bar. The mare's ankles were far apart, much wider than her shoulders. When Daka began raising the bar again, the chain clanking on the pulley, the mare's limbs lifted off the floor as one.
Daka kept at it, cranking the bar up, watching as the pony's body slowly tilted up and then lifted off the floor. Uma had him raise the pony until her pelvis was at chest level, then they did the same to the second pony.
The ponies were suspended in the air, wrists and ankles firmly attached to the bar. Their arms went straight up, thighs out at forty-five degree angles with only a slight bend at the knee.
"This is the proper way to do this," Uma said, nodding at the two darkskinned ponies gently swinging back and forth. Their big noses, tipped with pink, were even more prominent in that position.
"I'm going to use a glove, just because I don't want my skin to get all pruny, but you should use bare fingers until you get the hang of it," Uma told him, pulling on a black rubber glove. She lubed up her first two fingers and slid them into her pony's slit.
"Grease up your fingers and do what I do," Uma told him. "Two fingers is best, although on those four at the bar over there you'll only be able to use one, if that. Clan Infibula," she explained. "All sewn up. Even if the mare is really loose you shouldn't use more than three."
"Now, with the tips of your fingers, the pads, feel around on the inside of her, on the front. Several inches in you should feel some sort of bulge, like a knot of scar tissue. It may be slightly rougher in texture. Do you feel it?"
"I don't think so." Daka had cleaned out plenty of mares before but this was totally different. He rubbed his fingers around inside the pony, looking for the spot. She was warm and wet, and tight against his fingers. The outsides of her folds were black, while the insides were bright pink. Up close her little nose looked even more like a smaller version of his organ, stiffly upright and pointing up at his face. Her folds rose up to shroud its shaft, but its pink head was bare.
"You might have to press against the inside of her pubic bone to find it," Uma told him. "Don't be in such a hurry, this takes time. Watch your mount for her reactions, that's the best signal." Daka's pony bucked against his hand as his fingertips rubbed over a knotted bump.
"There you go, that's it," Uma encouraged him. "Now begin stroking it with your fingers. Back and forth, in circles, whatever you think works best. Watch your mare for her reaction and adjust your technique accordingly. There, that's it," Uma said as she saw the thigh of his pony flexing, lifting her pelvis. "See, she likes that. Hear her groaning and sighing? That's good."
The pony was trying to push herself into his hand but had almost no leverage. Daka kept massaging the little knot of flesh he'd found and watched the pony. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing faster, and he could feel her internal muscles squeezing at his fingers. He was surprised; he hadn't even known ponies had muscles inside there.
Daka's pony was beginning to grunt and groan and she was bending her knees, trying to bring her bottom up closer to him and his fingers.
"Now," Uma instructed him, "get a little lube or spit on your thumb and start rubbing her clit." She demonstrated by using her greased thumb to rub the pink-tipped nose between her pony's thighs.
"Clit?" Daka repeated. He'd never heard the word before.
"Be very gentle here," Uma advised him. "This is the most sensitive area of a female. Some women can barely stand to have it touched, but ponies usually aren't that delicate, especially those trained with a strap. You should start off slow and gently and work up from there. That said, these little girls just ran for four hours with a mulierre strap so tight I could barely unbuckle it. They'd probably enjoy it if you spanked their clits with a leathyr belt."
Uma bent into the pony before her and began massaging her in earnest. She dug her fingers deep inside the girl's ebony flesh, rubbing her secret spot, while roughly flipping her clit side to side with her thumb. Her pony moaned and gasped around her bit, bucking and swinging in the air even with Uma's free hand wrapped around her big thigh for control. The pony moaned and mewled, twitched and clenched, as Uma relentlessly played with her sensitive flesh. After only a few minutes the pony reached a crescendo, crying out and stiffening in the air. Uma's hand worked furiously inside her, rubbing and rubbing. Daka saw a lot of clear fluid running down Uma's arm and dripping from her elbow onto the floor.
"When they're not dehydrated, a lot of them will squirt on you," Uma told him, her fingers slowing to s stop inside the panting pony. She slowly withdrew them and peeled off the wet glove. "You do yours now." She moved close and watched as Daka renewed his efforts.
"Concentrate between her legs right now," Uma told him. "But be aware that a lot of mares like it if you tug and pinch their nipples. No, don't worry about it yet, this is your first time. Work on getting the technique."
Daka massaged her sweet spot with the flats of his fingers, trying side to side, up and down, and rubbing in circles. The pony was breathing heavily, almost panting, which he took as a good sign. He tried to keep his thumb moving against her clit but wasn't really coordinated enough to do a good job.
"On your own Mistress' ponies, ones you're familiar with," Uma told him, "you can suck on their clit. It works just as well, and doesn't take as much coordination. But don't do it on strange mounts," she told him. "You don't know how clean they might be." She reached up between his pony's legs and began pinching her small black nipples. The pony's moans grew louder, and drool ran from the corners of her mouth around her bit.
"That's it, give it to her," Uma urged him on. "She likes it, look at her buck. She's right on the edge, look at the veins in her neck." Uma used both hands to pinch the pony's nipples simultaneously.
"Oooh, watch it! Stay with her. Grab her around the leg if she starts to buck like that. You hear how wet she is? She's going to bite through that bit. Get—" The pony stiffened and rose up six inches as her legs bent with the force of her climax. High moaning sobs bled past her bit as Daka clutched her trembling thighs against him and massaged her hot wet flesh. The palm of his hand filled with clear fluid as her channel clenched around his fingers, and clenched, and the knot inside her that he'd been rubbing so vigorously shrank away.
"Good job," Uma commended him. "Looks like you've got a knack for it. We'll leave these two up here for now, let 'em relax."
Daka gently withdrew his figners from the pony and massaged his aching forearm. Clear fluid dripped from her now gaping slit and splashed against his sandaled feet. Her insides were a creamy, vibrant pink, turning to a deeper red inside.
The pony's washboard stomach moved up and down as her panting slowed. In her navel was a small clear puddle, but he didn't know if it was her drool, his sweat, or her squirt juice that had somehow ended up there.
"So, what do you think?" Uma asked him. Daka turned toward her, still massaging his forearm, but when he raised his head to respond he saw she wasn't looking at him. Instead, she was looking down, at the front of his robe. Daka looked down also, just now realizing he was hard as a rock.
"That's quite a tool you've got there, boy," Uma observed with raised eyebrows.
"I—" was all he had time to say before she'd stepped forward and grabbed it through the rough fabric.
"Oh yes," she purred, a smile growing on her face, "quite a tool."
"I'm not supposed to take off my robe," Daka blurted out.
Uma squeezed and pumped his thick shaft once. "Really?" she said distractedly. "I don't think that'll be a problem."
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