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Number One Pony
AUCTION
When auction day rolled around eleven individual slaves were put up for sale and one entire team. Mistress Jill and Mistress Carol were in charge of the auction, and I assisted them.
We lost one of our males named Arthur.
Arthur had raised his hand when the mistresses asked if anyone was interested in being sold. He told his lady that he wasn’t unhappy or had any reason to leave, but he just wanted to see if anybody would bid for him.
Arthur is young, about twenty-three or so, and rather immature. He likes showing off and didn’t realize what he was setting himself up for.
His mistress oiled his skin and dressed him in a sexy male harness. His arms were tightly bound behind his back and a high collar forced his chin up. His natural exhibitionism forced his penis up as well. His excitement was purely exhibitionism. He posed and strutted and marched at her commands. She smacked his legs and bottom to the delight of the buyers (and to Arthur’s delight as well) and when she rapped his cock with her riding crop he nearly had an orgasm. Arthur stood still as the crowd fondled and touched his body, and he had trouble maintaining a proper pony boy demeanor as his cock was stroked by many different hands, both male and female. He was sold for a goodly price, but his face and his cock fell when he saw who’d bought him.
He was purchased by Master Rex.
“Uh oh,” I heard Mistress Carol mutter when Rex led Arthur away.
“What’s the matter?” Mistress Jill asked her.
“Arthur isn’t gay.”
“He soon will be,” Jill said.
Master Rex led Arthur to his trailer and they weren’t seen for hours. When Arthur emerges, still in bondage his eyes were red and his face looked haggard, but he followed Mater Rex around like an adoring puppy.
Arthur was the only permanent pony from our farm to be auctioned. All of our slaves are quite happy here but we also offered the team of corporate wives.
They attracted a lot of interest but their insistence on being sold as a team put them out of most people’s price range. The ladies demanded that the bidding start too high and no one was willing to pay the price. The girls looked adorable, and they posed and teased and used every feminine wile in the book, but the bids just didn’t materialize so Mistress Carol terminated their sale. The Hollywood girls were mildly disappointed but not surprised. They knew they weren’t likely to be purchased as a team; however they did manage to sell themselves every evening. Mistress Carol agreed to be their domina for the show and later in the day she put on the block for rental. The bids did come fast and furious for that.
Their first night buyer, a quiet dignified gentleman from Sacramento, took them to his room and screwed the living daylights out them. All four women, several times each! He was very gracious and reserved looking, like an English gentleman, but Brittany told me that once his clothes came off he became a sexual demon. He put them through a number of depraved and delightful acts and never seemed to lose his erection no matter how many times he spurted into them. He was also quite perverse and used a lot of punishment techniques on them. When he wasn’t screwing them he tied them into painful positions, spanked their bottoms until they squealed for mercy, and actually whipped them very soundly. The Hollywood girls weren’t used to the whip and they demanded that he terminate their rental agreement and release them. Fat chance. He just whipped them harder.
Between whippings and spankings he usually kept two in his bed and the other two tied face to pussy. The girls experienced every mathematical combination that night as they licked one another’s pussy while waiting their next turn with him.
Not surprisingly, they began to enjoy his whip and by the early morning they begged him to buy them permanently. They even lowered their price, but he explained that he was married and it would be impossible to hide the act that he had four slave girls from his wife and children. They did establish an agreement with the gentleman, and set up a weekend assignation every month.
The corporate wives managed to get another positive result from the show; they got a modeling contract. A number of photographers approached them and they got offers to pose for fetish work. As soon as the fair ended they began their modeling careers. I mean the very next week they were shooting a hard core pornography session in Los Angeles. After their film career took off they got their randy gentleman to agree to make a porn film with them that they could show to their husbands. I’ve seen that film and it is very hot!
Their pictures were an instant hit in the bondage magazines and they quickly moved into movies and shot a series of very erotic pony girl films. We heard that the big pony girl magazine in Germany flew all of them to Europe, treated them like movie starts and paid them a small fortune for modeling.
They divorced their husbands and their visits to the farm began to taper off. We wondered if they had ever carried out their plans to humiliate their husbands before leaving them. Rumor had it that they got some very large divorce settlements and moved to Las Vegas, where they set up their own high priced pony girl bordello. The rumors also said that the girls sent copies of every porn film to their ex husbands and their bosses. There’s been no word on the ex husbands’ reaction.
I wonder if they ever got branded or pierced.
On a side note: a few years later Mistress Carol was passing through the Las Vegas airport and saw Dana and Brittany. They didn’t recognize her and she didn’t contact them, but she told us that Dana had put on a lot of weight and Brittany looked haggard, with a bad complexion and big circles under her eyes. Apparently working in a fancy whorehouse is just as exhausting as a cheap one. They should have stayed on the farm with healthy food and fresh air.
Phil sold his slaves easily.
The bidding started at a very high price and after a spirited auction they were sold to a gentleman from Kentucky who owns a large stud farm. He trains both thoroughbred horses and human ponies. He makes a lot of money off of both.
Phil drove a hard bargain and the man paid a high price for the sisters. While they were away Phil used the money to remodel the sisters’ house. He built a trotting track and a high fence for privacy and added a first rate fully equipped dungeon to the basement. I spent some time running on that track and it was very exciting trotting naked while listening to the neighbors talk next door.
The dungeon is terrific and Phil has learned all the ways to inflict fantastically erotic pain on a woman.
Their new master kept the sisters on his farm for four months and allowed his guests, his stable hands, and his male ponies to screw them every day, and he made them perform their sister act in front of audiences. They lived in stalls and were never allowed to speak or interact with other humans except to be screwed, punished or to pull a cart. They weren’t permitted to speak, not even to each other, and they later told us how easy it is to go six months with barely talking at all.
“Getting whipped and screwed is nice,” they said, “But being mute really brings home the feeling of submission.”
“Were you gagged all the time?” someone asked.
“Not very often,” Right Sister said. “They liked to have our mouths available.”
Left Sister giggled in confirmation. “We sucked a lot of men through the bars of our stalls.”
“And in the paddock, and in the meadows, and in the horse trailers,” added Right Sister. “We got to be pretty good.”
“Did you have to compete with your mouths?” I asked.
“Many times.”
“Who won?”
“I did,” Right Sister said proudly.
“Yes, she made thirteen men spurt into her mouth in less than an hour,” Left Sister affirmed. “I only got nine.”
After four months the temporary master loaded them into a horse trailer and drove them all over the South, putting them on display at pony shows and loaning them out for a night or for a week. When he returned them to Phil after six months they were two exhausted but very happy slave girls.
The sale contract stipulated that the sisters would be returned to Phil at our farm, and when he got his them back Phil was outraged to see that his brand had been crossed out with a tattooed X, and the words: ‘Under New Ownership’ added just above. He was in a white hot rage until the sisters told him that the tattoo was actually long lasting body paint, which would eventually wear off. They had asked their temporary master to do it as a joke on Phil and they had a good laugh at him. In return he strung them up by their wrists and gave them a severe whipping that evening in front of the entire farm. Phil laid it on with a very cruel horsewhip and which everyone enjoyed, including the sisters.
Their experience as someone else’s slaves seemed to have increased the sisters confidence. They looked trimmer and happier when they came back, and Phil was delighted at they way they responded to his whip and to his cock. He tested them by spreading them wide open on benches and inviting every male on the farm to fuck them. Mistress Carol and Jill oversaw as over twenty men screwed each sister, and according to them, the orgasms weren’t faked.
“The oohing and aahing can be phony,” Mistress Jill said. “But when a slave can’t stop giggling while two dozen men take turn s in her pussy you know its real.”
(For any woman out there who would like to become a nymphomaniac, just sign up to be Phil’s slave girl).
Phil took his girls home for a few weeks, then brought them back and trained them to farm work. The absolutely loved hard dirty labor and of course, the nightly rewards were delightful too. Mistress Karen made an exception to her rule of having no male masters at the farm. She allowed Phil to train other slaves, including males and he did a terrific job. She offered Phil a position and invited him to bring his slaves. He’s considering her offer.
CLYDESDALES
Another truck arrived towing a trailer. This wasn’t as elaborate as the one belonging to Master Rex, but it had just as strange a cargo.
I spoke to the driver who was an ordinary woman in her thirties named Ruth, and asked her to follow me to the parking area. As soon as she’d shut off the engine she walked to the trailer and opened the door. Inside sat four naked women on benches. Naked that is, except for harness. They were buckled to the wall with seatbelts and their arms were secured to straps above their heads. The first thing that I noticed were their huge breasts, which were incredibly firm.
The mistress released them and motioned them outside.
I’d never seen pony slaves like them before.
The women were all about the same height and like master Rex’s slaves, they resembled each other. Oh, they weren’t like identical twins, in fact one woman was black, but they were almost exactly the same size, their hair was in the same pageboy cut, and they had the same air of calm strength. They wore no makeup and their complexions were clear and fresh. They had pretty round faces and cute snub noses and they all appeared to be in their mid twenties, but most remarkable was the similarity of their bodies.
They were the strongest looking women I’d ever seen.
Those women were solid and powerful. Their arms and legs were thick but not fat, and their muscles were smooth, without the exaggerated definition and bulging veins that female body builders get. Their stomachs were gently rounded and very feminine and their breasts were large and firm and attractive. They simply looked solid.
Their faces were placid as they stood nude in the sunlight. I almost expected to see them chewing a cud.
They stood patiently until their mistress told them to unpack the trailer. Each pony picked up a box and followed me to their stall. I tried to lift one of the boxes and I could budge it. The Clydesdales lifted them easily. They made several trips and when the trailer was empty their mistress locked them away and followed me to the guesthouse.
“What did you think of my girls,” Mistress Ruth asked.
“I must admit that I’ve never seen anything like them,” I said. “They look very strong.”
“If you had to assign a name to them, what would it be?” she asked.
“Clydesdales,” I answered.
“Excellent,” she laughed. “I’ve heard them called Percherons, Shire horses and Great Belgians, and of course Clydesdales. That’s the name we use”
“How did you decide upon such large women?” I asked.
“That wasn’t my intention,” she replied. “The lead girl is my lover and she’s naturally built that way. Years ago I decided to make her into a pony girl but she was afraid that people would laugh at her.”
“Did she want to become a pony?” I asked.
“Oh, yes. She’s quite submissive and I took her to a pony gathering. She fell in love with the concept but was embarrassed because of her size.”
“I’ve seen worse looking people than that in harness,” I said. “You’d be amazed at some the hideous, overweight people who like to wear harness.”
“Exactly,” Mistress Ruth said, “I decided to find a team partner for her so she wouldn’t be so embarrassed so I found another girl with the same build and trained them together.”
“How did you find the second girl?” I asked.
“It wasn’t hard,” Mistress Ruth said. “I just hunted through the lesbian bars in Boston until I found her. Then I invited her home, seduced her and made her my lover too. After a few weeks I invited her to become a pony girl.”
“And she accepted?”
“Not at first, it took a lot of effort on my part to convince her. She wasn’t as naturally submissive as my first girl and she was insulted that I’d seduced her for that reason.”
“Did you convince her with the whip?” I asked.
“No, I used no coercion,” Mistress Ruth said. “But I showed her books and movies on pony life and took her to a pony show. Eventually she grew to like the idea.”
“I see.”
“Unfortunately when she discovered that she was to be the second of my slaves she flew into a jealous fury and stomped out.”
“But she came back?”
“Yes, after a couple of months of sulking she returned to me, then I began training both girls.”
“Were you already a pony mistress?”
“Yes, I’m a professional dominatrix but I’d only had male clients until I met Judy.”
“Do your clients live the lifestyle?” I asked. “Or do they just play at it?”
“Play. My male customers are ordinary men with pony boy fetishes,” she answered. “They only come to me for a couple of hours a week. I didn’t begin living the pony life until I took my female slaves.”
“And you added two more,” I observed.
“Yes. I took my first girls, Judy and Joy in a show in New York. They didn’t perform; I just walked them around in harness. Another large woman in the crowd saw them and asked if she could join up.”
“Judy and Joy?” I laughed. “Do you rename them with the letter J?”
“No,” she looked puzzled.
“Sorry, my lady,” I said. “But at one time we were given team names starting with the same letter. I wondered if you’d done the same thing.”
“No, those are their real names,” she said. “They other girls are Patricia and Delphine.”
“Which was your third recruit?” I asked.
“Delphine,” she answered. “She’s from Germany. Patricia is from New York City. Delphine saw pictures of the team in a pony girl magazine and wrote to me.”
“How long has your team been together?”
“Three years,” she said.
“Are they all lesbians?” I asked. “And masochists?”
“All lesbians, except Delphine, who is bi sexual,” she answered. “But she’s quite happy to have sex with ladies. And my ladies are submissive but not masochists. I don’t control them with fear or pain. They live the life because it gives them freedom from ridicule.”
“Do they enjoy bondage?” I asked. “I saw that you had them in restraint.”
“Yes, and to be honest, they do enjoy mild punishment,” she said. “Spankings and nipple pain, that sort of thing. I indulge them in that, but personally I don’t get any pleasure from inflicting pain. I see pony exhibitions as a way to increase their self confidence and free them from self induced oppression.”
“I see. Do you live together?”
“Judy, Joy and I do, but the others share an apartment nearby. They all have jobs but they train at my place every night and every weekend. Otherwise they come and go freely.”
“Not like us,” I commented.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ve heard a great deal about this farm. Is it true that you live behind bars?”
“Yes ma am. We’re in restraint almost continuously.”
“And you must submit to everything? You have no choices at all?”
“We do submit,” I agreed. “But we like it. And we have one choice: we may leave any time we want.”
“And you are all masochistic? You enjoy pain?”
“Oh yes,” I breathed. “Every last one of us, male and female.”
“Very interesting,” she said. “I’ve heard of this farm for years but I wasn’t sure that the stories were true. That’s one reason we drove all the way out here. I wanted to see for myself.”
“Did you drive all the way from Boston with your slaves in that trailer?” I gasped. My nipples popped up.
“No,” she laughed. “We also brought a passenger car and took turns driving. I rented the trailer when we got here and only put them in it when we left the motel this morning. I’m not that cruel.”
“Actually, I was thinking how sexy it would be to ride all the way across America naked in your trailer,” I said to her.
“Would you really enjoy doing that?” she asked, glancing at my erect nipples.
“Absolutely, so long as the bonds were very tight.”
“Ah you really enjoy pain, then?”
“I have orgasms from the whip,” I told her proudly. “Would you like to see?”
“Probably not. I don’t enjoy inflicting pain.”
“But I thought you were a dominatrix?”
“I do bondage and control over my clients,” she said, “Nothing more.”
“Do you ever give your slaves to men?”
“Never!”
We were silent for a moment.
“May I ask what events your team participates in?” I asked.
“Dead weight drag, tug of war and long distance chariot races,” she said. “My girls are so strong that they have defeated male teams.”
I believed her
We reached her assigned apartment and I showed her inside.
Mistress Ruth wasn’t beautiful, not like Mistress Karen or Mistress Donna, but she had a charisma that attracted me, so I offered myself to her.
“If there is anything I might to for you my lady, I am at your disposal.” I knelt at her feet.
She looked at me appraisingly. “I suppose you’d let me spank you or even whip you?” she said.
“Absolutely.”
“I told you, I don’t like doing that.”
“I know, but perhaps there might be some other service I could perform.”
She stepped close and looked into my eyes. “Are you a lesbian?”
“I certainly am,” I said seductively. “I am the best we have.”
“I’m tempted,” she said. She put her hand on my breast for a moment. It felt good.
“Would you mind pinching my nipple?” I asked.
She gave me a mild tweak, then withdrew her hand.
“I’m tempted,” she murmured, “But that would be cheating on my girls, so no thanks.”
“Yes my lady.” I got to my feet, curtseyed and left.
Cheating on her girls? My God.
I met Mistress Stephanie going down the stairs. She noticed the look on my face.
“What’s the matter with you?” she asked.
“My offer to make love to a woman was just turned down,” I grumbled.
“Maybe she was straight, Number One,” she said. “I don’t think that even you can seduce every woman on earth.”
“She’s not straight, my lady. She’s a lesbian mistress with a four girl team. She declined my offer because she doesn’t want to cheat on her girls,” I huffed. “I though that mistresses could do anything they want.”
“We can, and that includes being faithful to our slaves if we choose,” she said, “But a puritanical dominatrix? Now I’ve heard everything.”
“Well, she is from Boston,” I said. “I guess the stories about those people are true, but it gets worse.”
“Worse how?”
“She believes that slavery is a form of feminine liberation.”
“What?”
“She wants to free her girls from their self induced sexual oppression.”
Mistress Stephanie started laughing.
“She doesn’t like inflicting pain either,” I added. “Just wait till they see me take a whipping,” I said. “I’ll show them an orgasm that will have them pawing the ground to get some of the same.”
Mistress Stephanie laughed so hard that she had to sit down on the stairs. I sat beside her and stuck out my lower lip.
“Do me a favor and don’t encourage Mistress Karen to even consider hiring this woman,” I went on. “She’ll have us marching in protest rallies.”
Mistress Stephanie slid off the step and slipped to the floor.
“Can you just imagine me carrying a sign that says: ‘Power to the ponies’?” I persisted.
She made feeble shooing motions, begging me to stop. She laughed until she got the hiccups. I patted her on the back but it didn’t help. She stood up and staggered out the door. I followed.
She took deep breaths until she had herself under control, then slapped me on the bottom and walked away.
“Mistress Stephanie,” I called.
She looked back.
“I’ve heard that an orgasm is a good way to cure the hiccups,” I said.
She shrieked and ran toward the big house. I stuck out my lower lip again and went back to my post.
Later I walked through the barn and watched the Clydesdales working out. Mistress Ruth was buckling heavy packs onto their shoulders and filling the packs with bags of sand. Her girls stood placidly until each pack was filled, and by then they must have weighed over a hundred pounds. Mistress Ruth stood behind each slave, grabbed the packs and shook them until they were properly distributed. Each pony made a pawing motion to indicate that the packs were ok, then she strapped their arms tightly behind them below the packs, clapped her hands and they walked away.
The ponies carried their burdens easily. She walked them around the track for a couple of laps, then clapped again and they began trotting. The Clydesdales trotted in a heavy, deliberate pace for a lap, then she slowed them to a walk. After a circuit she put them into a trot again.
Other teams were using the track and occasionally the Clydesdales would trot past a slower team.
Our Corporate Wives were working out and for a few moments they and the Clydesdales were side by side. The Clydesdales ignored the other teams but the Hollywood girls were flabbergasted and they lost discipline for a few minutes. Their heads turned and they stared at the enormous women beside them.
Our ladies were much more beautiful and glamorous, and compared to the Clydesdales they looking light and delicate, but the huge breasts pounding up and down were too much to ignore. Dana, who was lead, was so distracted that she wandered off course and the team nearly crashed into a parked surrey.
The Clydesdales ignored them and thundered along the track.
Mistress Ruth exercised her girls for a couple of hours, then gave them a rest. Later that afternoon she brought them out and created quite a stir when she buckled saddles on them.
Mistress Eve and I were walking through the barn and stopped to watch.
The saddles were standard pony slave types, which allowed the rider’s legs to rest over the pony’s shoulders. They weren’t as realistic as the saddle that Big Boy wears, but they did permit the rider to sit higher.
Mistress Ruth wore very tight shorts, a tee shirt with no bra, and knee high riding boots, and even though she is a little thick in the waist she still looked very sexy.
A crowd gathered when she led her girls onto the track. She tied three of them to a hitching rail then she climbed into the saddle of the remaining pony, tapped the slave’s breast with a crop, and set off.
People stared as they walked around the track once, then burst into applause when the pony broke into a trot.
The Clydesdale trotted easily with Mistress Ruth in the saddle and it became obvious that Mistress Ruth wasn’t wearing a brassiere, her breasts bounced in rhythm with the pony.
Ruth rode two full times around the track and her slave carried her without the slightest sign of discomfort. After the second lap Ruth stopped the pony in front of the crowd, gave some command and the pony began trotting in place. Ruth smiled at the onlookers as her girl slowly rotated, then stopped her, tapped her ear and the pony bowed to the crowd. Ruth leaned back in the saddle to help the slave keep her balance, then the slave straightened. On another silent command the slave knelt and Ruth dismounted. Her pony rose to her feet and stood proudly as masters and mistresses gathered around.
Mistress Ruth wiped her pony’s face with a damp towel and gave her a drink of water, then clipped her reins to the hitching rail and lead out another slave.
“Would any on you ladies like a ride?” she asked.
The crowd surged forward.
“Ladies only,” Ruth repeated. “And all riders must weigh under a hundred and twenty five pounds.”
This caused a few groans of disappointment from the heavier mistresses, and a couple of outrageous lies about their weight from a pair of portly mistresses, but enough ladies within the limits were found.
Mistress Ruth helped the first lady into the saddle and watched as the woman settled in. The pony shrugged and wiggled a little until she was comfortable with her rider. Then the second mistress mounted another slave. Mistress Karen happened by, and paused to watch. Mistress Ruth immediately offered her a ride. Mistress Karen hopped into the saddle and rode away. Mistress Ruth found a rider for the fourth Clydesdale
“Walk them only, please,” Mistress Ruth told the riders, and they set off.
I was green with envy as I watched that slave girl carry Mistress Karen around the track. After a couple of laps Mistress Karen steered her mount out the door and disappeared. She returned a couple of hours later with a very satisfied look on her face. Her pony’s harness had bit of grass attached and in her hair, and she too had a very contented look.
“I may start gaining weight,” I muttered.
“Oh no you won’t,” Mistress Eve said. “We like you just the way you are.”
“Thanks My Lady, but oh, how I’d love to have you ride me.”
“Me, or Karen?”
“All of you.”
Mistress Eve gave me a sweet kiss and pinched my nipple, then we went on our way. Mistress Ruth loaned her girls out for rides all afternoon. Mistress Donna took her mount out of the barn and walked her around the grounds. Others did the same and soon the Clydesdales and their riders were roaming all over the farm.
The Clydesdales made quite a stir at the show. For the opening parade they showed up pulling a full sized buckboard. Mistress Ruth drove the wagon wearing a pretty green and yellow peasant girl outfit with a low bodice and a very short skirt and a school marm bonnet. She wore white over the knee stockings with elastic garters. Her ponies wore heavy brown harness, horsehair caps with towering manes that trailed down their spines and matching tails curving up from plugs in their rectums. The plugs had no straps, they were held in place by the women’s muscle control alone! (Very impressive). They also wore lush horsehair fringes from their knees down which fell to heavy horseshoe boots and sleigh bells.
Their breasts were exposed and supported by strong shelf lift bras and they bounced most enticingly. Their nipples were pierced and bells hung from the rings.
They wore large, deeper bells on their right ankles and higher toned ones on the left. They trotted in a deliberately slow, ponderous gait that seemed to shake the ground, and the different pitch of the bells emphasized their power. They were massive and strong, yet also feminine. I thought they looked lovely.
My team was waiting beside Mistress Donna’s boys.
“Very impressive,” Mistress Donna said to Mistress Eve. “I can just imagine them in a different setting.”
“What setting?”
“Trotting through a fresh snowfall on a winter day,” she said. “Their heads high, boobs thrust proudly out, and steam coming from their nostrils.”
“It sounds pretty, like a Christmas card,” Mistress Eve said. “But you forgot something.”
“What’s that?”
“A Dalmatian riding on top of the beer wagon.”
Mistress Ruth received many offers to sell her team, which she refused. She stopped loaning them out. In fact, I think she was slightly bewildered by the offers. The most she permitted was to allow ladies to ride them saddleback.
“I believe that woman is more interested in trying to make a statement than she is in pony life,” Mistress Eve commented to me.
“What would that be, my lady?”
“I think she wants to prove that plus sized women can still be attractive sex slaves.”
“Yes my lady. She told me that the first day.”
“I believe she’s proved her point,” she said.
“I agree,” I said. “I’d like to be with any of her girls.”
“So would I,” Mistress Eve said. “In fact, I offered to trade your team for hers for a night, but Ruth turned me down.”
“Do you think she might be willing to pair the teams together?” I asked.
“What, double cross all eight of you?”
“Absolutely,” I breathed.
“Wow, that would be something to see,” she said. “But I doubt it would happen. I don’t think she came here for sex.”
“I fear that you are right, my Lady. She turned me down too,” I said. “I was on my knees and everything.”
“Yes, Stephanie told me about that,” she chuckled.
“I don’t think that she’s allowed any of her slaves to have sex while they’ve been here. She doesn’t torture them either,” I said.
“Maybe she’s into sexual denial,” Mistress Eve commented. “That’s a form of torture.”
“That’s terrible!” I gasped. “I certainly hope you never decide to use it, my lady.”
Mistress Eve looked at me appraisingly. ‘Uh oh,’ I thought.
“I think that Mistress Ruth and her girls are about seventy percent into the pony lifestyle,” I said trying to change the subject.”
“While we are a hundred percent, right?” she asked.
“Well. Perhaps about ninety-nine percent,” I said.
“Oh?”
“I still need to be saddle trained like the Clydesdales,” I told her.
She looked at me appraisingly. “Do you think that you are strong enough to carry me?”
“I’d love to try.”
“All right.”
The Clydesdales did quite well at the competition. They won easily against other female teams and they gave a couple of male teams a hard time when paired up for an exhibition tug of war. And Mistress Ruth arranged races between her girls and allowed several mistresses to be their jockeys. She also reverted to her dominatrix training when she saw a male slave stretched out on the ground between pegs.
Ruth was walking her team by and when the man saw them his penis popped erect. Ruth turned her girls toward him and as they bore down on the man his cock got bigger. He watched them approach with a look of pure delight and when they stepped over him, he groaned in ecstasy and his cock spurted.
No one touched him, and he still came!
Ruth started to lead her team away but the man called out, begging for them to return. Ruth obliged and marched her girls over him again. His cock was soft between his legs but it stirred quickly. Ruth laughed, turned her girls (they were in line abreast) and had them step over his body a third time.
On their fourth pass he begged to have them step on him. Ruth shrugged and ordered her girls to do so. One stepped on his chest, the next onto his belly and the third put a foot on his thigh. There wasn’t room for the fourth Clydesdale, she just stood beside him.
No you would think that all that weight on him would have been uncomfortable, but this man was a serious masochist and his cock was like a rock instantly. He stared up at the lush, firm female bodies over him and spurted again.
Mistress Ruth ordered her girls to move away, then she stood over the man straddling his face. His eyes were closed as he writhed in orgasm, but when he opened them and saw her panties over his face he came again.
Ruth laughed tauntingly and took her team away.
More men (and some women) offered huge amounts of money to be trampled, which Ruth had her girls do, but they really attracted most attention from their appearance. The large women, and their large breasts, intrigued a lot of masters and mistresses. I heard people talking about recruiting plus size ladies in the future.
We talked about them after the show.
“That Mistress Ruth hovered over her slaves,” Number Three said. “Like she was jealous that somebody might steal them.”
“We hang horse thieves in these parts,” Number Four said in a really bad John Wayne imitation.
“She couldn’t watch them all the time,” Two said. “I heard that her girls liked the attention and weren’t averse to pushing their breasts through the bars of their stall when she wasn’t around. Word had it that they even allowed men to fondle them.”
“That’s true,” Gloria said. “I saw them getting their pussies played with.”
“By mistresses or masters?”
“Both. I watched one of them hanging on the bars while a man masturbated her.”
“I thought that they were lesbians,” Three said.
“Maybe,” Gloria said. “But she sure had a heck of an orgasm. She had the bars of the stall rattling.”
“It’s a wonder she didn’t knock them down,” Two laughed.
“Now that must have been an interesting sight,” I mused. “That row of enormous breasts poking through the bars.”
“Yes, all eight of them, the same shape and size,” said Gloria. “They look natural too. I don’t think that they’re silicone.”
“The Clydesdales insist that they are natural,” Audrey said. “I asked them.”
“I wonder how much they weigh?” Number Two mused.
“The women?”
“No, those eight huge boobs.”
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