Kalani's First Outing
by Cobalt Jade (4/4/99)
Kalani awoke from a deep sleep to hear her cell door open. She
squirmed on the pile of straw that served as her bed, wishing she
hadn't been blindfolded so tightly. The soft clink of chains let her
jailers know she was awake.
"Get up," a female voice ordered. Her voice was harsh, with a
sharp anticipation in it. Kalani squirmed to her knees as
bootheels clicked against the cold stone of the floor. A ponygirl
was required to be instantly responsive to her Masters, no matter
how tired she was. She knelt with her head bowed, knees slightly
apart, with her arms behind her back. She couldn't help but
assume it, as her wrists and ankles were chained together.
The door of her cell screeched open. Two strong pairs of arms
took hold of her armpits, lifting her, and carried her out of the
stall. She heard the jealous sighs of the other ponygirls. She
couldn't see them, nor they her, but they knew one of their own
had been chosen, though whether for something special or
terrible, none could say. After a few minutes they would settle
down and go back to sleep, their curved, tanned bodies luscious
commas in the straw. They couldn't do much else, really, as, like
her, they were gagged and hogtied. Their collar chains were all
locked to a ring in the center of floor, assuring they had even
less freedom of movement.
But they were of no further interest to Kalani. Her captors took
her to a place where voices echoed strangely and removed her
blindfold. She was in a crude tiled room, a bathing facility lit by
hanging lanterns. Several wooden tubs steamed over grates set in
the floor and a selection of towels rested on one of the benches.
Three of the stable staff surrounded her: Miriam, the harsh-
voiced supervisor, and Gonzales and Everett, her lackeys. With
them were two of the estate slaves, who knelt on the floor with
their heads lowered, waiting for orders as all slaves do.
"No looking about!" Miriam ordered, and struck Kalani sharply on
the ass with a narrow leather paddle. Chastised, Kalani quickly
lowered her head to the floor. "Do you forget what you are?"
Tears came to Kalani's eyes, remembering the stringent training
she had endured the week before. She shook her head.
Miriam smacked her buttock again. "Make sure you don't."
Kalani regarded the dirty white tiles, her asscheek smarting. She
blinked her tears away, but her heart was pounding, as much in
anticipation as fear. Everett unlocked her wrist and ankle cuffs.
"Head up, slave, with your hands behind your neck."
Slave. They had named her that, and it was what she now must
think of herself. She had no other identity--not businesswoman,
not United States citizen, not sister or lover or wife. She did as she
was ordered and kept her eyes down. The heavy metal collar
weighed upon her neck, cupping the bottom of her chin. The
dangling tag engraved with her pony name was a cold finger
against her chest. KALANI, it said. Beneath it, PROPERTY OF
PARADISE POINT RESORT, MOLOKAI.
"A guest wants to take a moonlight drive," Miriam announced. "He
requested both you and Popolena. He may also have some private
games in mind for you, who can tell? This is your first real outing
here, so needless to say, you will have to prove yourself worthy."
Kalani gasped as Miriam smacked her ass again, taking care to
keep her lips pressed together. The welt felt as thick as her
finger. An outburst louder than that might be an excuse for
another one. "Any mistakes on your part, any foolishness or
forgetfulness, and will find you in a position much, much worse
than your present one. Do you understand?"
It was a direct question, and if they now thought of her as just
another ponygirl, as a ponygirl she had to answer. "Yes."
Miriam struck her again. "Yes Mistress," she said, half a groan,
half a sob, as she realized she had to use the speech of a ponygirl,
too.
Miriam presented her with the paddle. "Show your respect to
your Mistress now, slave."
Kalani bit back another sob and kissed the stiff leather, closing
her eyes as she tasted the salt. Her stomach contracted when she
imagined the submissive picture she made, sending a shameful
wave of passion through her lower body. Tantalizing scenarios
danced through her mind. The two men laughed.
"You will serve our guests in whatever they wish?"
"Yes, Mistress."
Miriam pressed the handle of the paddle to the side of Kalani's
face, then withdrew it. "Prepare her."
Everett and Gonzales motioned Kalani up and chained her,
spread-eagled, between two of the columns. Then they took out
razors and a jar of depilatory cream. Kalani began to struggle, but
her attempts at disobedience only made them laugh harder. They
had been expecting this, even looking forward to it.
"Our guests expect to see ponygirls properly prepared, and that
includes making your skin smooth as silk," Miriam said.
"They'd rather eat the peach without the fuzz, too," Everett added,
with a smirk.
Kalani could wait helplessly as the grooms mixed their soaps to
make a fine lather, which they rubbed over her torso and limbs.
Then they began to shave her, dipping their blades again and
again into the warm water, cleaning off the soap and hair. After
her body was smooth as glass they began to shave her pussy. She
flushed furiously as their hands poked and prodded, opening up
her buttocks with their fingers; even her anus was examined and
denuded. Once was not enough for them. Twice they shaved her
there, using careful strokes to reach all the crevices, and it was
torment hearing them banter with each other as they worked.
They treated her as if she had no mind or ears, making jokes
about the color of her skin, the shape of her nipples, even the
length of her clit...which had become moist and engorged as her
pubic hair was stripped away.
They slathered her with the white depilatory cream to remove
the last of her body hair at the roots, then rinsed her with bucket
after bucket of warm water. Their rough fingers sent unwilling
shockwaves of pleasure across her denuded flesh. How sensitized
it was now, the same way lips were more sensitive than the skin
of the back, or a nipple than an ankle. Her body betrayed her
again, emitting a warm bead of moisture that slid down her thigh.
Suddenly a hard metal object prodded her asshole. "The guest
wants you nice and clean before his play-time. Inside *and* out,
if you get what I mean," Miriam said. Rough laughter came from
the men.
No, Kalani thought desperately. They didn't say anything about
this! But the hard metal nozzle worked its way inside her, and she
could only wait stoically as measure after measure of water was
pumped into her. When she thought she would burst they pulled
the tube out, squeezing her asscheeks together to hold in the
water, and another object entered her--a buttplug. It had a wide,
round rim on the end of it that spread her buttocks apart, the
rubber circle showing any and all how thoroughly she was
plugged. Her muscles clenched again and again around the plug,
trying without success to expel the intruder.
Her bowels gurgled and cramped, but there was no place for the
waste to go. "Please..." she gasped. Her rear shook in little circles
in the air.
The grooms only grinned, enjoying the lively show her jiggling
cheeks made. Miriam rubbed the handle of the paddle back and
forth over Kalani's clit, and Kalani gasped even louder. Her tits
heaved up and down with her pants, nipples pointed like bullets.
Despite the discomfort her arousal grew.
"Please, Masters..." she begged.
The paddle slapped her rear, jarring the buttplug imbedded inside
her. She had only barely recovered from the indignity of the
purge and the flesh of her ass clenched even tighter around the
hard little rim. She groaned, thrashing her head back and forth,
her curly black hair flying with the motions. The paddle struck
again. To her utter humiliation she began babbling for mercy. A
humiliating orgasm began to build like the slow roll of thunder.
Just as she was sure she would come the groom removed the plug
and the two resort slaves caught her waste in a basin.
Kalani sagged forward as they laughed, asking her if she had
liked it, if she would like having her bowels emptied more often.
She could hardly hear them through the lovely static of relief.
They gave her another enema, then left her alone with the bath-
slaves. The water this time was full of scent, intending to refresh
her or the tongue of whoever would be using that part of her
body. "What else are they going to do to me?" Kalani asked the two
slaves.
They looked around, unsure. Perhaps they weren't allowed to talk
with the ponygirls. "I don't know," the redhead whispered. She
was naked except for a long piece of silk that hung between her
legs. Her nipples were pierced, the two rings connected with a
chain.
"Tell me!" Kalani said forcefully.
"I can't," the slave said miserably. "That's against the rules. Do
you want to get us all in trouble here? Please, don't ask us any
more."
Or I can wind up like you, Kalani thought. You couldn't get much
lower here than being a bath slave bathing other slaves. Gently
they removed the plug, and she sagged in relief as the water left
her. It made a loud splash in basin. They wiped her clean, then
smoothed warm oil over their hands and began to massage her.
Thighs, calves, abdomen, shoulders...even the cleft of her ass.
When their hands became dry they coated them again, slathering
her with yet another layer. The oil had a metallic pigment in it,
giving her cafe-au-lait skin the look of gilded bronze. The slaves'
skilled hands massaged her tits, squeezing the oil out towards her
nipples. The two buttons of flesh stiffened once again, looking
like miniature cocks in the lamplight.
They rubbed the oil deep between her legs. They were careful not
to touch her pussy, but even so she was panting again before
they were finished. As a final touch they gathered her long,
curly hair in a clip at the back of her head, giving it the
appearance of a mane.
Miriam and the grooms came back into the room. Everett held a
tangle of black, shiny straps. It was a slave harness, but more
finely made than the ones Kalani had trained in. Gonzales carried
a suitcase-sized cabinet. Inside would be compartments holding
manacles, clamps, dildoes of many materials, buttplugs and gags,
chains, collars. Kalani's heart turned over at the sight of it, but in
repugnance or fascination, she could not say.
They looked her over one last time...there was no need to, as the
slave girls had done a good job of wiping her down...and untied
her from the posts. She felt weightless as a slip of paper and
voluptuously submissive, her smooth, rounded body gleaming
with oil. She dropped to her knees again, kissing the leather of
Miriam's high-heeled boots in gratitude.
Miriam stroked her scalp. "Good girl. Mistress is pleased. Now
stand, so we can harness you."
Kalani stood, her fingers linked behind her neck as she had been
taught. She trembled with fear, with arousal, with the realization
it was finally happening to her...the very thing she had feared,
yet somehow yearned for, throughout her mainland life.
The harness was new and marvelously supple. First came a tight
belt that was buckled around her hips, then leather cuffs for her
wrists, which were pulled behind her and buckled to the belt at
the small of her back. She no longer had the use of her arms.
Then they selected two dildoes, one for her pussy, the other for
her asshole. To her humiliation, her pussy provided more than
enough lubrication for both of them. Each dildo was buckled to
the belt she wore. She couldn't even hope to expel them now. The
strap ran tightly through her crack; when she walked, the
rubbing motion would remind her constantly of how well her ass
had been packaged.
Next they buckled a strap beneath her tits, lifting them high in a
pair of shallow cups; though they might jiggle as she trotted,
they wouldn't flop around, which most guests found aesthetically
displeasing...especially in large-breasted women like herself.
Another tight strap led from this to her collar, which was
buckled and made tight.
Black leather boots were laced up her legs, reaching to mid-
thigh. The coverage they gave only made her feel more naked.
They had only slight heels and cushioned insoles, as they were
designed for running.
Then Miriam opened a special drawer revealing a selection of
horsetails which the three poured over intently. They finally
chose a plain black one, which they screwed into the protruding
shaft of Kalani's buttplug. They buckled the base of the tail to her
belt to hold it up proudly between her cheeks, and when she
trotted it would bob back and forth most becomingly.
She was true ponygirl now. Never could she be anything else.
Tears wet her eyes as she thought of the level she had sunk to.
Vision blurring, she could only watch in trepidation as Miriam
picked out two polished nipple clamps which had the look of fine
jewelry. They fit over Kalani's nipples like little caps, and
clenched the areola tightly in a firm, even pinch. A second clamp
pinched the base of the nipple itself, forcing it out through an
opening on the end...a scarlet jewel in a silver setting. Her
nipples seemed to lengthen on their own, straining to escape
from the tiny holes they popped out of. Kalani whimpered. The
discomfort from the dildoes was quickly forgotten.
"Quiet, slave!"
Slave. It was a slave's lot to endure, to be violated, and she had
never experienced such a mixture of pleasure and pain.
"Like that, slave? You will like this even more." Miriam showed
her a second pair of clamps, the jaws concealed under a pointed
conical head. Quickly, she fastened them to the exposed tips of
Kalani's nipples.
The sensation pushed past pain, past pleasure, and there was
nothing Kalani could do but absorb it. Fresh fluids released
themselves inside her to cream over her thighs.
Miriam took up one last clamp. She knelt. And Kalani felt the cold
kiss of metal nip her painfully erect clit, a counternote of shock
to the two being played above.
She bit back a groan as fresh tears started to flow.
There was a eyelet on the end of each nipple clamp and an eyelet
on the clamp on her clit. Between these Miriam strung thin
silver chains, taut even considering Kalani's head and shoulders
were bowed. She understood now what would happen when she
held her head up and began to walk or trot: the motions from her
clamped, bobbing nipples would travel along the chains to her
clit, pulling on it and tormenting it whenever she took a single
step.
And she would have to wear this all night.
"This is how you will pull the cart," Miriam said. "Properly, with
all the proper tack a true ponygirl should have. Every time you
are rented out, you will wear this. You'd better get used to it." She
struck at Kalani's ass, not with the paddle this time but a whip. A
switch, more accurately. Kalani gasped.
"And this is how you will be driven. As I said, you'd better get
used to it." Another crack hit Kalani's left buttock.
Kalani's field of vision went black and red. She thought of
nothing then, not even fear--only the shock of the pain as her
flesh swelled, grow hot, then itched, then burned. The smack had
been harder than the ones before. It was designed to force a
sluggish, sedentary human body to pull another human, or two,
in a two-wheeled surrey for a mile. Or more.
"Walk, slave!" Miriam attached a leash of silver links to a ring on
the front of her collar, and another switch brought Kalani back
into herself. Meekly, she followed her mistress of the moment out
of the stable.
The resort was still active this late at night. Guests lounged
around the pool, the insect coils sending thin blue plumes into
the night. Slave girls carried trays, fetched drinks. Some had
been pulled into the undergrowth, their feet pointed high in the
air as they were fucked. Music came from the ballroom, the clink
of ice, the conversations of the rich and powerful, those who had
the money and clout to visit a resort like this. Kalani tried not to
look at them, fearing recognition. Once she had walked among
them, as their equal: confidant, relaxed, the world at her
fingertips. Now, she was nothing.
She relished the feeling like a fine, rare wine. She was a slave,
they were her masters; any one of them might command to drop
to her knees, mouth open, to suck his or her cock or pussy;
afterwards they might order her to present her ass for a
whipping. And she would obey without question.
"Faster, slave! Keep your head high!" Smack. Her left buttock
smarted, suffused with warm blood. The heat made her asshole
itch, trapped helplessly around the plug that pursed it. No one
watched from the pool to appreciate the show. No one cared; there
were dozens of ponygirls here. One paddled ass looked much the
same as another.
The guests did not look, but the staff did. Cooks gawked, security
guards grinned. Titters followed, tart remarks, laughter. They all
knew a new ponygirl was receiving her first drive tonight.
They crossed the lawn. The surrey waited by the side of the road.
The other ponygirl, Popolena, was waiting. She was a tall, slim
Australian with curly red hair and a tail dyed to match. Freckles
covered her face and chest. The pink stripes on her ass were a
mute testimony to the depth of her submission. She champed
nervously on her gag, eyeing Kalani from the corner of her eye;
being already collared and in harness, she couldn't turn her head
to look.
Miriam spoke some words to the driver but Kalani couldn't hear
what was being said. He had to have been given instruction,
though, in the proper methods of driving a surrey like this; it
was one of the rules here. The resort took care of its ponygirls;
the rules, along with a good diet and hard cardiovascular
exercise, ensured their careers might span twelve years or more.
If Kalani passed her test this night hers would too.
Suddenly she heard a woman's low, sophisticated laughter. A date,
she thought sourly, realizing there were two people in the
surrey. A supermodel, by the looks of her. Kalani's heart sank.
She wouldn't mind so much pulling a man, or two men, but to be
humiliated like this in front a of a female guest...she wanted to
sink into the earth. There would be no attention for the ponygirls
tonight. Their Master already had his prize. The display they
made in their black leather harnesses would all go for nothing.
Then Miriam was maneuvering her into position in the yoke,
which was positioned low, at her hips, near Kalani's center of
gravity. She buckled the shafts at either side and gagged Kalani
with a thick block of leather attached to a snaffle and bridle, then
hooked up the reins. The driver pulled Kalani's head to the left, to
the right; Kalani was astounding at how thoroughly they
controlled her. It was a sensation too novel to be called painful or
uncomfortable. It was only subjugating.
Miriam had no last words to say to her, but then that wasn't her
job. Kalani had been told the way things worked here. She'd had
her training, and if she proved herself she could be serving here
for years to come. If she didn't, she would never get this chance
again.
The switch cracked across her ass; Popolena gasped. They took off
in a trot.
After all her training it seemed like second nature. The road was
of packed dirt, but smooth and free of ruts. Their pace was brisk.
A single headlamp at the top of the surrey lit the path ahead for a
distance of twenty feet. Insect noises came from the tropical
vegetation on either side, the surrey squeaked, the soles of their
boots thudded down. Kalani thought of little other than keeping
up with Popolena's long strides. The other ponygirl handled it
like a veteran, her red hair swaying, the tail in her ass jiggling
saucily back and forth. Her posture was erect and angled slightly
forward, her knees lifting and falling in a perfect rhythm Kalani
strained to match.
The Master plied them hard in the beginning to set a good pace,
but let up as their pace evened out. Still Kalani lived in dread of
that *pop* SMACK sound, the sudden fire across her ass. Though
she loved it too, of course. Anticipation made it all the more sweet.
A full moon looked down on them, providing a soft silver light
the headlamp couldn't hope to match. How romantic, Kalani
thought. Her tits bounced up and down with her exertions;
though protected by their undercups, the torture was still
piquant enough to keep her heart racing. The vibrations traveled
along the chains to her clit, and back up again; she felt the three
knots of flesh engorge even further. She'd always wondered how
Frazetta's barbarian girls kept their metal pasties on. Now she
knew.
Her heel hit a stone and she stumbled. Three cracks across her
left cheek.
You're getting sloppy, she warned herself. Keep your eyes on the
road. Her shoulders ached from her arms being pinned back;
sweat rolled down her face and chest. The dildoes pumped inside
her like a pair of twin pistons, well-lubricated by the cream she
continued to gush. If she hadn't been so aroused they would have
been quite painful.
They reached a curve, the bit in her mouth guiding her
inexorably to the left. The tail tickled her backs of her thighs as
they turned. She felt her ass undulate from side to side with the
pace; the couple in back were getting quite a show.
They hit a grade. Of necessity, they were forced to slow down.
It was hard going, unlike the vigorous pace they could keep on
level ground. They shifted into lower gear. The noise of their
footfalls and the creaks of surrey lessened, so Kalani was able to
hear some of her Master's conversation.
"Why do they do it?" the woman said.
"Who knows." The click of a cigarette lighter, the smell of a cigar.
"Can't say I don't enjoy the show, though."
"You're hopeless," the woman said in a bitchy tone.
"Eh, now, listen here babe. Those two, they wouldn't trade places
with you for anything in the world. Why do you think they do
this? They're pain junkies, humiliation junkies. A pair of right
exhibitionists, too." Popolena squealed as he popped the whip at
her.
The woman made a disgusted noise but Kalani couldn't hear her
words.
"No, you're wrong about that. They were guests once, like you,
like me. But the pony world sucked them in. They crave it, now.
It's their whole reason for living. They like to be garbage,
nothing, but at the same time they're something--slaves, objects
for sexual use, in a way they could never be in the real world.
Pathetic, really. But I can't say I don't enjoy it."
Kalani felt tears come to her face, even as the tight jiggling of
the dildo caused mews of pleasure. He was right, he was so right.
She suddenly wished the world could see her now, clamped,
chained, paddled, harnessed, her true self flashed in living color
across the globe.
They reached the top of the grade. The road leveled. They trotted
briskly along the road for several more minutes, then the Master
reined them to a stop. Below was a view of the bay, the moonlight
a white stripe on the still water. They'd come about three-
quarters of a mile. Both she and Popolena were covered with
sweat by now. Kalani could smell her arousal, a smoky, meaty
scent that mixed nicely with the odor of humus and jungle foliage
and plumeria.
The woman carried a picnic basket to the edge of the cliff and
began to spread out a cloth. A midnight supper, Kalani guessed.
There was an angry abruptness in her gestures as she set the
plates, dished the food. Kalani guessed she didn't like the Master's
being so philosophical about the ponygirls. Kalani hadn't been a
ponygirl for long, but she knew that women, if they had the
inclinations, were as apt to be taken with ponygirls as men. Even
more so, in some cases; their cruelty and harsh use was an open
secret in the stables. But this woman only seemed disgusted by the
whole thing. Kalani pitied her.
"Are you going to join me?" the woman said in an annoyed voice.
"Not yet," the Master said. "I've got to take care of these two."
Kalani waited in anticipation as the Master wiped Popolena with a
soft towel, then her, and released them from the surrey. He
walked them over to a tree and removed their bridles, then
pushed Popolena to her knees so her face was in front of Kalani's
crotch.
"Do her," the Master commanded.
Kalani's eyes widened as the other ponygirl began to eat her. It
was...it was...*my god.* Kalani felt her knees sag. She had no
words for the exquisite sensations that gripped her. Popolena's
skilled tongue was a pleasurable counterpart to the dildoes and
the clamp on her clit, soothing and exciting at the same time.
Around and around it went, licking her clit, cleaning the juices
that had leaked out of her, the sweat, the musk. It probed at the
leather straps, tried to find entrance to her pussy, which was, of
course, useless, but Kalani's thighs trembled all the same.
She began to pant, She was going to come, and it was going to be
divine! Popolena continued to work, unfailingly, blandly, her
face buried against Kalani's shaved crotch; the moist sounds her
mouth made only stimulated Kalani further. She was...she
was....*oh god* she whimpered in the back of her throat, letting a
gush of breath out between her teeth. Invisible sparks flew in
the air as she came.
Popolena stood, licking her lips. After a few seconds the Master
motioned Kalani to her knees.
Still dizzy with the luscious afterglow, Kalani obeyed. She never
thought she would lick another woman's pussy but if that was one
of the prerequisites of her position here, she'd be happy to do it.
She only hoped the Master was enjoying the show.
Arms fastened behind her, she had to move with care. She didn't
want to unbalance herself. The naked cunt, a plain pink slit,
loomed before her. Though her mouth was dry she extended her
tongue and gave it a lick. The taste was heavenly, the smell, even
more so. A slight movement on Popolena's part told her she was as
aroused as Kalani was, so Kalani, made bolder, nestled her tongue
in further, snaking it around Popolena's clit-clamp. Kalani licked
the chains holding it in place, then Popolena's strapped pubic
lips, then inhaled and gave the area a good, hard suck.
Popolena's thighs trembled against her shoulders. She likes that,
Kalani thought, and kept up the treatment. She used her teeth,
giving little bites, then sealed her mouth to the bare pussy
before her, swirling her tongue. Sooner than she expected
Popolena gave a little cry and shook against her.
Wow, Kalani thought. I did that. The sight of the swooning, naked
ponygirl strapped tightly in her harness, could have inspired
her to do it again.
But the Master was separating them, tethering them to two
separate branches so they could not touch. They could only look
at each other now. He brought out two feedbags full of trail mix
he strapped over their mouths and chins. Each had a squirt-bottle
attached to the side with a tube so they could drink without
removing them. Only then did he go to his picnic. As he left he
whispered to Kalani, "You passed."
Kalani sagged in relief, slipping past apprehension and pain to a
woozy contentment. She was perfectly happy, at the moment, to
be a tool no longer needed; a decoration, a thing. She passed the
muster; she had made it.
She was a true denizen of the resort now. For two more weeks she
would serve here as a ponygirl, then fly back to her public
relations job in Los Angeles. Whenever she had free time she
could fly back here to take a vacation from the stress of always
hustling, always being in control. But she would still use her
talents. Her gym-sculpted body, her brisk efficiency and drive
for perfection...all were assets for a ponygirl's career. With the
resort's acceptance all she would pay was her airfare. The staff
would take care of the rest.
Kalani ate, sipped. She felt very content.
Moonlight glimmered on the Pacific like silk. The Master and his
woman were eating, the woman trying to be alluring with her
fluttery gestures, her insipid jokes. What does she know, Kalani
thought. Fool. The next two weeks promised to bring bigger
rewards than a stupid lover's picnic. She scooped up another load
of granola with her tongue, chewed it down. Two weeks.
Two luscious weeks.
END
