Number One Pony

Plowing

Every day at the farm begins the same way.

I was wakened as usual at seven o’clock and had fifteen minutes to brush my teeth and go to the bathroom. Then I waited at the gate until my mistress arrived. My team assembled behind me and we waited silently until Mistress Eve showed up. She unlocked the gate and we walked to the wash room. I positioned myself between two posts, spread my feet and raised my arms. Mistress Eve tied my wrists to the posts then did the same to my ankles. I waited while she tied all four of us, then she lugged out a bucket of warm soapy water and washed us. Mistress Eve is considerate and washes our faces gently with a soft cloth, but the rest of our bodies get scrubbed with a fairly stiff brush. The brush doesn’t hurt our skin, in fact, its just the correct firmness to drive us wild when she scrubs our pussies; and believe me, she scrubs them diligently. We’ve all been know to have orgasms from that brush, and since I’m her favorite, Mistress Eve usually makes sure that I have one every day. She’s so sweet.

After we’ve been washed and rinsed we get a nice brisk rub down with towels, and that’s also been known to cause a pony girl to giggle and gasp and moan with an orgasm or two.

When we are dry Mistress Eve buckles us into harness. She uses stiff leather collars and thick belly bands around our waists. I like to wear a stiff halter but sometimes she uses lighter, more flexible ones. I prefer the stiff halter because it doesn’t slip on my face when she tugs on the reins, and I hate rubber bits, they taste awful, give me steel anytime.

Depending on her mood we might get vibrators up our pussies or our bottoms, or both, but sometimes we merely get a stiff leather belt between our legs. We never know from day to day what she might use as pussy straps. Sometimes they vary from thin ones that are mere thongs to horrid rough straps three inches wide. Some of them are actually lined with a rough material that irritates our pussies. We call them scratchy belts. I don’t know what that material is but it gets rougher when its wet. Most of us are wet by the time she finishes buckling them on and they stay wet all day. We have lots of orgasms but after eight or ten hours even the most masochistic pony girl is usually glad to get out of one of those awful things.

A few years back they tried some rubber pussy belts lined with hard little knobs. They were intended to be mildly painful and keep us focused but the effect was not what the mistresses wanted. The belts made us come about every ten steps or so. It was impossible to get any work done when the pony girls kept collapsing helplessly into giggling, gasping orgasms every few minutes. They had to take them off of us after half a day. The belts disappeared and rumor has it that a few of the mistresses tried them on and decided to keep them for their personal use.

Mistress Eve even makes us wear metal chastity belts sometimes. The chastity belts are very sexy, they feel like a strong hand gripping our crotches, but they don’t have any give in them and by the end of the day they can be very uncomfortable. We’ve never been able to decide which is worse, chastity or scratchy.

This particular day we got the works; pussy and rectal vibrators and scratchy belts. My nipples were hard as soon as she ordered me to bend forward and I squeaked like a little girl when she slid the first one inside my body. I was breathing hard after the second insertion and nearly came again when she tightened the pussy belt.

Mistress Eve chuckled when she saw the look on my face and she tweaked my nipples until I was gasping with pleasure. She brought me close to coming then stopped and slipped my work bra on. She tugged the buckles tight, then knelt, untied my ankles and replaced the ropes with leather cuffs. I lifted my feet one at a time so she could slip the work shoes on, then stood patiently while she buckled the cuffs to my wrists and upper arms and looped my bit and reins around my neck.

I stared out the door while she worked down the line harnessing the rest of my team. I fought the desire to look when I heard Number Three gasp, then groan in orgasm. I’ve heard number three come often enough to recognize her orgasm groans from ordinary ones. I wanted to look but we are forbidden to turn our heads while in harness.

       Mistress Eve untied our wrists and marshaled us into line. She locked our hands behind our backs, then clipped a four way leash to our collars and led us to the feeding room. She put us at our table and unlocked our wrists. (It seemed a little silly locking then unlocking them for a trip of only a few feet, but rules are rules and ponies don’t move an inch without restraint.)

       We ate breakfast standing. We ate quickly and quietly, talking is forbidden, then mistress Eve relocked our wrists, put our bits in our mouths and led us outside. We stood patiently while Mistress Jane discussed the day’s assignment with Mistress Eve. Mistress Jane is the field supervisor and I heard her tell Mistress Eve that we would be plowing today. My nipples perked up at that, so did the other ponies. We like pulling a plow.

       Being a farm pony means we have a lot of different chores, and while pulling a plow all day in the sun might not sound thrilling to most women, to us it is the purest form of pony slavery. The only thing we like more than plowing is pulling a wagon because more people will see us.

       Mistress Eve led us to the machinery barn and hooked us to the plow two by two. She hopped into the seat, snapped the reins and I moved forward. The others moved in unison with me.

       We walked along the dirt road enjoying the day. The morning was pretty, the sun was warm and I was happy. At the wheat field Mistress Eve lowered all four blades of the plow. She snapped the reins on my shoulders and I stepped forward. The ground was hard and we couldn’t pull all four-plow shares. We tried, we dug in our feet and leaned against the traces but we could make little progress. We struggled and huffed and strained but it was just no good. I saw that Number Two was stumbling so I stopped and straightened up. As I expected that earned me a snap of the whip across my shoulders, but I waited until all the girls were in line again, then I leaned forward. We made a few yards progress but it was so hard that I knew we just weren’t going to make it. I stopped again. Mistress Eve gave me several more snaps with the whip, which I endured silently, and then I shook my head from side to side. She gave me a couple of more cuts, just to show who was boss, then climbed out of the seat and raised one of the plow blades.

       This time the going was a little easier, but not enough and I knew that we would never make it through a whole day with that hard soil. I obediently tried for a few moments, and then stopped. I got about a dozen blows with the whip and my shoulders were stinging but Mistress Eve raised another blade. We set off and this time it was all right. We could plow the field just fine with only two blades in the dirt.

       Another team showed up, two males this time, and they pulled the seed spreader behind us. The spreader is light and easy to pull and I was proud that we were doing the hard work while the males were only up to the light stuff.

To be fair, those boys were only part timers. They were spending their vacations at the farm and weren’t used to real pony life, nevertheless, we girls felt superior. The males were far enough behind us that we faced them after every turn, so we got a good look at them. I set a steady pace and we worked with the efficiency of long practice. The males stumbled from time to time and their mistress used the whip to keep them moving. Both males were cute and one must have been a true masochist because his cock got harder every time the whip hit him. That set us to giggling.

Mistress Eve heard our giggles and snapped her whip over each of our shoulders one by one and cracked the end on our breasts. Number Two, squealed which earned us all another couple of blows, and Number Three, who is our worst masochist, almost had an orgasm. Mistress Eve doesn’t care if we have orgasms but woe to that girl if she stumbles and throws the team off rhythm. Luckily, Number Three managed to control herself.

We were given a short water break after the first hour and a fifteen-minute break at mid morning. Mistress Eve parked us under a shade tree, gave us water and a snack, and then chatted with the other mistress. We looked at the male slaves while they stared back at us. We aren’t allowed to entice the males, but it’s amazing what a pony girl can do by barely moving her body. The males’ cocks were nice and hard as they watched us. We don’t have tails of course, but we have all learned the art of shaking our breasts while twitching away insects. We kept a wary eye on the mistresses while every few seconds one of us jerked. Number Three grew very bold and began to sway slightly. She became more and more daring until Mistress Eve gave her a long look. Number Three froze and tried to look innocent but I made eye contact with Mistress Eve. From the look on her face I knew that Number Three, and possibly all four of us, was in for a good flogging after work.

We worked until noon, when the chuck wagon was brought to us. It was actually a modern food cart on two wheels designed to keep hot food hot and cold food cold, but we called it the chuck wagon anyway.

The chuck wagon is pulled by Gloria who is the first and foremost pony girl on the farm. Gloria is fifty-four years old and, and she is the reason the farm exists. She’s been a pony for twenty five years and she is still beautiful.

GLORIA AND THE FARM’S BEGINNING

Everything began in the eighties when the owner allowed her brother to bring a film crew to make a low budget porn film about pony girls. The brother was a loser who couldn’t keep a job. He wandered into the porn industry in Los Angeles and got a job as an assistant producer for low-grade porn films. They brought the crew to the farm because of the privacy available.

The farm sits in a small valley and there is only one road in. The country is beautiful and the hills around the farm are wooded and we are the only residents for several miles.

Gloria was one of the actresses and although she had made many bondage films, she’d never done anything as a pony girl. The instant they buckled her into harness she experienced a terrific sexual thrill. As the filming progressed she fell in love with the role. She said that she felt that she belonged there. She kept her harness on at all times and even asked them to keep her in restraint between takes.

The crew got in the habit of tying her to a tree or a hitching post when she wasn’t busy, and she loved it. She says that waiting in harness for long periods of time kept her very excited. (She added that the occasional pat on her bottom or pinch on her breasts by passing crew members helped too). The owner of the farm, whose name was Dina, watched the filming and was curious about pony play. She and Gloria talked a lot and Gloria tried to explain the delight she got from wearing harness. Dina invited Gloria to stay after filming was complete and the two of them experimented with pony play. Dina made Gloria’s first real set of harness and rumor has it that Dina actually wore harness herself a few times, but anyone who knew Dina doesn’t set much store in that tale. Dina was a strong self-reliant woman who had already divorced two worthless husbands. She managed the farm by herself and did quite well. The idea of her in harness is unthinkable (but incredibly erotic).

       After the first visit Gloria visited the farm regularly and she and Dina became friends then lovers. Dina allowed Gloria to act out her fetish for pony play and along the way Dina discovered a dominant streak within herself. Eventually Gloria moved in permanently. She wanted to be more than just Dina’s live in lover so she offered to work for her keep. She began helping with the farm and one day, as a joke, Dina harnessed her to a cart and had her haul produce from the vegetable fields. Gloria was in a shirt and shorts and she loved pulling the cart. The next day Dina harnessed her in the nude and Gloria worked all day naked. She was so sexually aroused that at the end of the day she and Dina had the most fantastic sex in their lives. The next day Gloria asked Dina to let her pull the cart regularly.

Although she lived on the farm Gloria continued to model for bondage magazines and movies, and Dina made the farm available to photographers and movie producers. In fact, a lot of movies are still filmed here. During one of the movies they set up stalls for the pony girls to live in. They were a cross between horse stalls and prison cells and Gloria loved being in hers so after the movie she would beg Dina to lock her into it at times. Sometimes she spent the night in a stall.

Not surprisingly, a lot of the people in that business are in the fetish scene and when the word got out that Gloria was actually living as a pony girl some other women asked if they could play too. At first they stayed only on weekends but when Dina discovered that people would pay a lot of money to live out their fantasies she began hosting bondage and pony girl parties. She charged pony players to spend weekends and she put them to work. The pony girls and boys loved it and worked very hard. Astonishingly the farm profits increased. What started out as weekend fantasies turned real when a man asked to live here permanently. Dina didn’t think he would stay very long but she allowed him to sleep in a stall. But he was a serious masochist and wanted nothing more than to be worked in harness and punished as often as possible. He stayed for several years but eventually had to leave due to family pressures. After that more people begged to join Dina’s pony herd. I was the eighth person to come here on a permanent basis. Since then a lot of people have lived here as pony slaves. Some have left for one reason or another and some have stayed and I am second in seniority to Gloria.

When I first came I was paired with Gloria and she trained me, then we were used to train others.

We would be harnessed to them and act as the old hands to show the newcomers how to behave. The mistresses with their whips can only teach them so much. We’ve discovered that learning by watching the experienced ponies makes it easier on everyone. Over the years Gloria grew tired of training new ponies so she is given her choice of duties. She likes pulling the chuck wagon but doesn’t mind hard work and occasionally is teamed up to pull a plow. She said it still feels good to work up a good sweat. And even though she enjoys the most favored slave status, she still feels the sting of a mistress’s whip from time to time.

Eventually I also got tired of training new ponies so a few years ago we formed my permanent team. I’ve worked my girls into such a close knit and efficient team that I am allowed to stay with them. Only rarely do I have to train new ponies.

Over the years so many people came to the farm that Dina had to convert a real stable into living quarters. We live in little stable cells, which are simple but comfortable. Gloria usually slept in the house with Dina but after she died Gloria insisted on living in a cell. She was offered a more comfortable one but she wanted to live like the rest of the slaves.

Gloria is loved by everyone and even at her age she is fit and healthy and beautiful. Constant exercise and good diet keeps her (and all of us) in good shape. We eat only vegetables and fruit with very little meat. No sugar or junk food, although some mistresses carry chocolate to use as rewards. (Heavenly). Long hours of work and standing keeps our weight down and our bodies firm, and you should see our tans. I also personally believe that having several orgasms every day has a lot to do with staying happy and healthy.

We wear leatherwork bras to prevent premature sagging. They are half cups, which permit support but expose our breasts to allow for plenty of jiggling, and they provide no protection from the whip. Other than that we work naked except when we have our periods. Then we wear leather panties.

Gloria still works naked too and she still gets admiring looks from the males. She is very popular with male guests and she’s been purchased by men half her age. She can take a whipping with pure delight or screw a man out of his mind. Even the male ponies get erections looking at her and she’s sometimes given to a male pony as a reward for hard work. Males have been known to practically work themselves to death for the chance of an hour alone with Gloria.

When she arrived with the lunch cart we were unhitched from the plow and allowed to eat in the shade. Afterwards we were given an hour to relax and most of us took a nap. Then we were put back into bondage and resumed our work.

Too many ponies eventually became a problem so Mistress Dina settled on a compliment of twelve full time pony girls and six males. The number varies as ponies come and go and it doesn’t count temporary ponies.

We have people who come for a few days or a few weeks. We get weekenders who come on a regular basis and some people spend their vacations as pony slaves, so sometimes we might have up to thirty ponies at the farm.

Dina’s daughter Karen helped with the farm but the two of them couldn’t manage by themselves so they hired some help. At first they recruited professional dominas through the film industry but over the years a number of regular ladies have joined the staff too. In fact, most of the mistresses have never worked as professionals. Somehow the word gets out and every so often a woman shows up wanting to be a pony mistress. Not all are accepted and I have often wondered what the testing process is like.

Dina died several years ago and the farm passed to her daughter Karen.

Karen still shakes her head at how the place has grown. Before she died Dina had extended the original house to accommodate the added staff, but as more mistresses came to work here she built a second house. It was designed to match the original house and looks like a hundred year old Victorian with wide porches and comfortable rooms. Despite its homey appearance it’s actually an apartment building with twelve suites for staff and six suites for paying guests. 

Besides Karen there are twelve full time mistresses, several part time mistresses, four cooks, a truck driver and an accountant.

We even have a female slave who is a mechanic.

The mechanic is a hard-bitten bitch named Paula. She used to build racecars. She has an abrasive personality and no one likes her very much, but she keeps the machinery working. She’s tough and defiant and makes the mistresses tame her. She can be a real challenge to a new mistress and snarls when she’s being whipped. But every time she is tortured she reaches a point when she suddenly seems to collapse inward and her defiance vanishes. She instantly transforms into a sobbing submissive little girl who begs for more. After she crosses that threshhold she can’t get enough pain and purrs like a kitten. Watching her take a whipping is a fantastic turn on.

We have a full time accountant who is not a slave, nor is she a mistress. She’s just a regular woman who never wears leather or whips a slave (but she has been known to take a pony boy to her room once in a while). The males never talk about what she does to them but they all seem to enjoy being picked by her.

The farm needs an accountant because we make a lot of money from farming and a lot more from slavery. Aside from charging fees from part time ponies, Karen rents us out to photographers, moviemakers and guests. Since all pony boys and girls are exhibitionists posing for pictures and acting in movies is a delight, but at first some had reservations about being sold for sex. One girl decided that it was prostitution and had the audacity to complain to Karen. She shut up after Karen had her strung up by her wrists and flogged. Karen had us all watch and when the girl had been reduced to a quivering mass of weeping flesh she asked if anyone else wanted to complain. No one said a thing. Karen explained that she didn’t keep the money the guests paid. She put it into our personal retirement accounts, but since she was collecting money for our services she conceded that it could be argued that technically it was a form of prostitution, and if any pony wanted to leave she would let him or her out of their commitment.

She got no takers. Even the girl who’d been whipped didn’t want to leave. 

Personally, I don’t care who is using me, I like the sex and submission, and being sold to a stranger is very erotic, especially when I’m paraded in front of guests and sold at auction. I adore watching people look at me while they are bidding for me. And I’m lucky that I’m bi sexual, because some of the straight women don’t enjoy being sold to lesbians. The same goes for the pony boys. Only a few of them are gay but that makes no difference. If one of our male slaves is purchased by a gentleman he must do what he is told. Like it or not.    

It’s tougher on straight male ponies. They like submitting to mistresses but not men, so to remind them of their status and to keep them obedient the mistresses regularly make them suck each other’s cocks while we watch. It’s very erotic for us and interestingly we notice that some of the male ponies learn to enjoy it after a while. 

ENTERTAINING THE GUESTS

We plowed three acres that day, and then Mistress Eve drove us back to the barn. It was early and we could have gotten in more work but knocking off early told us that we were in for a sexy evening. (When Mistress Karen plans to use us at night she makes sure that we get back in time to rest up. She doesn’t like having a slave girl doze off while eating a guest’s pussy). We wondered what was in store for us.

Back at the barn we were unharnessed and tied between posts at the washroom. This time other mistresses helped wash us and we were scrubbed until our skin glowed. They even shampooed our hair. Mistress Eve allows our team to have long hair, unlike some others who must wear theirs short. Our hair is long enough to form into ponytails. It was heavenly to have our hair washed and dried by the mistresses. They were in a playful mood so we had our pussies caressed and our nipples tweaked. They weren’t being nice; they were getting us worked up for the evening. They brought us close but wouldn’t allow us to come, and we were forbidden to touch each other or ourselves.

After being washed we were fed dinner and allowed to rest in our stalls. At six o’clock mistress Eve and three others arrived and began our preparations. We were strapped into chairs while they did up our hair and applied makeup. They sprinkled body glitter on our skin and rouged our nipples. It felt nice to be feminized again.

After makeup we were put into show harness. My nipples were already hard but I couldn’t suppress a gasp of delight when I saw our new outfits.

The new costumes were blue, silver and gray and must have been designed in Las Vegas. Instead of belts we wore gray corsets trimmed in blue and silver. They squeezed our waists but left our breasts fully exposed. The corsets had suspenders that held up silver stockings and we stepped into blue pony shoes with very high arches. They even had silver spurs. Gray collars trimmed in blue and long blue opera gloves came next followed by silver Roman helmets crowned with towering blue and gray plumes. We even wore new silver bits in our mouths, and the reins were blue with gray tassels. The finale was silver bells clipped to our nipples.

When they finished dressing us the mistresses lined us up in front of the big mirror. We looked fabulous! Mistress Eve brought out a camera and shot a couple of rolls of film, and then they strapped our arms up behind our backs and marched us to the main house. Mistress Eve tied us to the hitching rail. She produced four pair of silver panties but didn’t put them on us; instead she tucked them into the tops of our corsets. If she had put them on right then they would be soaked in minutes.

We waited for a long time and attracted a lot of attention from the staff. People walking by would stop and stare. One mistress even joked that she wouldn’t mind being a slave if she could dress like us. I took a great risk; I looked her in the eye and shook my boobs. She didn’t punish me, in fact, she even winked at me.

We heard cars arrive and listened while Mistress Karen greeted some guests. Then she took them to the patio where they were to have dinner. Mistress Eve came back wearing a dressy mistress outfit; shiny leather micro skirt and bra, knee boots complete with spurs, and a jeweled whip. She knelt, unclipped our ankles then slipped our panties on. She released us from the rail and led us around the house. We marched proudly, with our chins high, thrusting our breasts out and lifting our knees.

The guests were standing around having cocktails and chatting with the mistresses. The conversation stopped when we came into view.

Mistress Karen introduced Mistress Eve and gave a quick talk about how we were the number one pony team on the farm. She told them that we were lifetime pony girls and were trained in both field labor and dressage. She stepped back and nodded to Mistress Eve. Mistress Eve spoke quietly.

“Dressage number two.”

She walked away and I counted her steps. At eight I tossed my head and we began the routine. Dressage number two is a twenty-minute precision performance where we act more like show girls than pony slaves. It’s like dancing but its fun and it’s a terrific way to show off our bodies.

We marched line abreast, turned spin wheel left, then right, high stepped backward, side to side, trotted in place, then froze, started again on a silent count and marched some more. We’ve rehearsed our dressage routines for years and can do them in our sleep, but its still thrilling to watch people watch us. We maintain our china doll expressions, eyes wide staring straight ahead. As we pranced and danced Mistress Eve reached out and snatched Number Four’s panties off. They were breakaways and didn’t cause her to miss a beat. The guests gasped, then applauded. As the routine progressed Mistress Eve ripped each girl’s panties one by one until only I was left. That was my privilege as team lead and it meant that everyone was watching my crotch waiting for my pussy to come into view. They cheered when Mistress Eve yanked my panties off, and my nipples got just a little bit harder.

We finished the routine and stood in line facing the guests. Number Two was breathing hard and her breasts heaved.

“What is the matter with you?” I asked without moving my lips. (Being a pony slave teaches one how to talk like a ventriloquist and we have even learned to communicate with our mouths filled with bits. Over the years we’ve developed a new form of language that only pony girls can understand). We were in such excellent condition that we could perform the routine at a dead run and not break a sweat. Number two should not have been breathing hard.

“She just wants to make her boobs jiggle,” Number Four said softly.

“Um hmm,” added Number Three. She began breathing hard too.

“Oh, what the hell,” I thought. I started breathing like I was winded. I even made my nipple bells jingle. Mistress Eve wasn’t fooled. She shot me a warning look, which I pretended not to see. She smiled wickedly and I knew we were in for a flogging later. At the moment I was turned on and the idea of being whipped sounded rather nice.

Mistress Eve chained us to individual posts while the guests were served dinner. We stood patiently while they ate. They tried to carry on as if eating with naked pony girls nearby was normal, but most of the time they were looking at us.

I passed the time by trying to guess who the people were. There were four well-dressed couples. Several were clearly married, two were ladies who were probably lesbians and another was a young man with an older lady.

The lady reminded me of Audrey Hepburn. She was tall and slender and carried herself with a natural grace that was almost aristocratic. She was simply but elegantly dressed. She looked at us with frank curiosity and after the meal walked to us and examined each of us intently. She paused in front of me and looked carefully into my eyes.

“How long have you been doing this?” she asked. Mistress Eve removed my bit and motioned for me to answer.

“Seventeen years, Lady.” I replied.

She looked surprised. She studied my face and body for a moment, then leaned close. “How old are you?”

“Forty, my Lady.”

“I’m impressed,” she said. “You don’t look it.”

I bowed.

“And you do everything that you are told?” she asked.

“Yes Lady.”

“You never find yourself doing something that you dislike?”

“Sometimes, Lady.”

“But you do it anyway.”

“Yes.”

She frowned. “You don’t have any choices in what they do to you?”

“I have only one choice,” I said. “I have the choice to ask to leave.”

“Have you ever considered leaving?”

“No Lady. I am very happy here. This is where I belong.”

“And you wish to stay here forever?”

“Yes Lady.”

She turned to number Two who bowed her head slowly and deeply. Three and Four followed.

“Very interesting,” she said almost to herself.

The young man wandered over. “Well Mom, what do you think?” he asked.

She took a deep breath. “All right, lets proceed.”

They returned to the table and spoke to Mistress Karen. The man produced a checkbook and wrote out a check. This was different from the usual times when we were rented to guests for an evening or a weekend. I felt a pang of fear wondering if we had been sold permanently. The lady disappeared and Mistress Karen and the man talked quietly.

The guests were served coffee as the light faded and the patio lights came on. I was getting bored chained to my post and wished they would either get on with screwing us or let us go back to the stable when I heard Number Two gasp.

Two mistresses appeared leading the elegant lady in pony costume. My eyes widened at the vision of that lovely woman in simple black harness. She wore panties and a bra, stockings, garter belt and heels, but was strapped tightly into black patent leather. Her arms were laced into a single glove and she wore a very high collar and a chrome snaffle bit. She followed the mistresses on a long leash and even in harness carried herself with the grace of a ballerina. She blushed when the other guests stared, but her nipples were poking forward under her bra.

“Oh my God,” Number Three whispered. “You can team me with her any day of the week.”

“Me too,” muttered Number Four. I silently agreed with them. (Even though new females know in advance that they must submit to women, some still have to be broken to the act. One of the methods used to break down a new pony’s inhibitions is to force her to lick other pussies. Sometimes the new girl is tied for hours face to crotch with another female. I would have loved to get my mouth in that lady’s pussy.)  

The Mistresses led the woman (whom I call Audrey, even though that isn’t her real name) through the guests’ tables. At first the guests were taken aback, but one of the men patted her on the bottom, and another squeezed her breast. Soon they were all fondling her, especially the two lesbians. Even her son patted her jokingly on her bottom. Audrey bore this all with dignity and a bright pink face. After she had been fondled, poked and caressed she was led away to the stables. The guest turned their attention to us and the bidding began.

Number Two was sold first, because of her big breasts, but I was chosen next. Three and Four were sold and a couple of other pony girls were brought out to make sure that no guests went without.

I was sold to one of the lesbians and followed her to her room. Inside she stripped me naked and tied me flat on the bed. She undressed and explored my body with her fingers and tongue, and then she straddled my face and lowered herself onto my mouth. I spent most of the night licking her pussy, although she did return the favor twice, but that was all she wanted. The night was pleasant enough but uninspiring.

We didn’t get much sleep and she didn’t wake up when Mistress Eve tiptoed in the next morning to get me. I was bleary eyed and grumpy and let Mistress Eve know that I wasn’t in a good mood. Bad mistake, because that reminded her of the team’s infraction last night, (pretending to be out of breath so we could jiggle our boobs at the guests) so she strung me up by my wrists in the stable courtyard and gave me about fifty lashes with a flogger. Trust me that will wake you up!

The rest of the team was already in harness but Mistress Eve kept them waiting while she gave me an extra efficient wash down. She isn’t all bad, Mistress Eve, in fact, she fingered my pussy until I had a very sweet orgasm. Then I had breakfast and we were off to the fields.

As we marched past the training barn I saw Mistress Jean working with Audrey. Audrey was in rough training harness; heavy leather cuffs and belts, unpolished fittings and clunky shoes. She also wore an ugly face halter with blinders, a thick brow strap and a deep tongue depressing bit. The reins were pulled so tight that the corners of her mouth were stretched. That gear is designed to be uncomfortable to condition a new pony into her new status. It’s also used to punish disobedient older ponies. Everyone hates wearing those things.

Audrey stood at rigid attention and listened intently to Mistress Jean’s instructions. As we turned the corner I saw Mistress Jean hooking her to an old work cart.  

I felt better as the day went by. My body stung from the flogging but the pain faded after a couple of hours. Pulling the plow was pleasant and the day was nice and we managed to tease the males without incurring the wrath of Mistress Eve.

During lunch we talked about our experiences the night before. Number Two smugly told us that the man and wife who had bought her took turns screwing her all night long and she pretended to complain about how sore her pussy was.

Number Three showed us angry red welts from an extended whipping on the insides of her thighs.        

Number Four had also been bought by a married couple and told us how the wife had stripped her husband, put him into harness and made him and Number Four pretend to be a team.

“Is he thinking of becoming a pony boy?” I asked.

“Possibly. I got the feeling that they were testing the waters,” Four answered.

“Did you have sex?” Three asked.

“Yes, The wife made him watch me eat her pussy,” Four replied. “Several times.”

“Is that all?” Two asked.

“She made me kneel and press my face on the floor,” Four said. “Then she permitted him to screw me from behind. It was nice, he has a big cock.”

“They didn’t have sex?” I asked.

“Nope, and she made me and her husband sleep on the floor while she slept in the bed.”

“No spanking or whipping?” Two asked.

“None, the lady is into controlling her husband but I didn’t see any sadistic tendencies in her.”

“Lucky you,” I said. “I got one hell of a flogging this morning.”

“We saw,” Three said. “What did you do to deserve that?”

“WE were jiggling our boobs at the guests last night, remember?” I said. “I got punished for what you three did.”

“That’s what you get for being lead pony,” Four told me. “And besides, your boobs were jiggling too.”   

“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure I saw you come while you were getting whipped,” Three said. “So don’t put on your martyr act with us.”

I jiggled my boobs at them.

Number One Pony

AUDREY BEGINS HER TRAINING

On the way back to the stables we overheard the mistresses talking about Audrey.

“I was surprised to see that new woman in field harness,” Mistress Eve said. “As graceful as she is I’d have expected her to be trained for dressage.”

“Apparently she wants it rough and degrading,” Mistress Carol said. “She may get dressage training but she’s asked for field work, the tougher the better.”

“Interesting,” Mistress Eve said. “Sounds like she’s a serious masochist.”

“Could be. I hear that she comes from a prominent family and she wants a change of pace.”

“A permanent change?”

“No, she’s only here for a couple of weeks, but she told Karen that she ‘wants to shed her dignity along with her clothes.’

“She’s not the first woman to want that, but she has to be the most elegant lady I’ve ever seen in harness.”

“I agree,” Mistress Carol said. “But Karen told me that she gets the full treatment. Hard work, humiliation and physical torture.”

“Torture? Has she ever done this before?”

“No, this is her first time ever, and she’s asked for no mercy and no limits.”

“No limits?”

“The only restriction is no permanent scarring.”

“So no branding, eh?”

“Nope.”

“What about sex?”

“No limits there,” Mistress Carol said. “She’s agreed to submit to anyone for anything.”

“Even to women?”

“Yes.”

“Hmmm, in that case I might just have to take her to my room some evening,” Mistress Eve, mused. “She has a lovely mouth.”

“Who know, you might be the first pussy she’s ever kissed.”

“Umm, that would be delicious,” Mistress Eve said. “Looking down at that beautiful woman’s face between my legs.” She wriggled slightly. (So did I).

“Funny that you mentioned branding,” Mistress Carol said. “We’ll find out how masochistic she truly is.”

“What do you mean?”

“She gets to witness a branding tomorrow night.”

“Really, who is getting branded?”

“Debbie, the number two on Donna’s team,” Mistress Carol replied. “She’s completed three years and wants to be branded. When the new woman sees that she might change her mind.”

“Well, it’s been known to have that effect,” Mistress Eve said.  “Where is Donna going to brand her girl?”

“One inch above her pussy,” Mistress Carol said.

I was already turned on listening to their conversation. I remembered when I was branded all those years ago and my pussy was tingling. The rest of the team was listening too, and I could tell by some deep intakes of breath that they were excited.

A small crowd was gathered around the courtyard when we got back. They were watching Audrey crawl though a mud pit on her hands and knees. Mistress Jean was standing over her snapping a horsewhip across the backs of her legs.

I could see that poor Audrey had been through a rough day. She was covered with mud, her hair was a sopping mess and her legs and bottom were striped with pink welts. She still wore the ugly training harness and it too was caked with mud.

Audrey had been taught a little routine. She crawled to the center of the puddle, knelt and lowered her breasts into the mud. She paused with her butt in the air, wiggled it back and forth enticingly, and then spread her knees until her body sank down. She wriggled around coating the insides of her thighs, then rose up, shook her ass, and crawled out of the pit. She crawled to the fence, turned around and went back to the mud where she repeated the drill. Apparently she had been doing the pit all afternoon. Mistress Jean stood over her and she was as muddy as the slave.

Several mistresses and ponies were watching as Audrey turned wearily and crawled back through the mud. She wasn’t moving fast enough to suit Mistress Jean so she gave Audrey a couple a sharp cuts across her bottom with her whip. Audrey squeaked and paused. Her face was contorted with pain. The pause earned her another stroke, this time right in her pussy.

Audrey’s mouth flew open in absolute astonishment. Her face froze for a moment, them a faint heart rending moan came from her mouth. She dropped to her stomach and writhed in pain. Unfortunately she forgot to close her legs and Mistress Jean’s whip got her in the crotch again. Audrey struggled to get back to her knees and took two more wicked blows before she managed to get back into her routine. She finished another cycle with an expression of utter distress on her face.

“Wow!” whispered Number Two. “Talk about humiliation.”

“Humiliation?” snorted Mistress Eve. “She hasn’t seen anything yet.”

Sure enough, when all the teams were back from the fields Mistress Jean stepped up her torments. She waded into the pit, locked Audrey’s wrists to her ankles and ordered her to keep her knees open and her butt in the air, and then she commandeered a passing team of males. She released their cock straps, snapped her fingers at one of the males and pointed to the mud.

“Get on your knees behind her,” she commanded. He jumped to obey. She pointed to another male and told him to place himself at Audrey’s face.

Poor elegant Audrey knew what was coming. She grimaced for a moment, and then cleared her expression in an act of pure bravery. My heart went out to her. She kept her face expressionless as the male slid his cock in her pussy, and didn’t change when the mistress told her to open her mouth. The second male shoved his penis between her lips.

Everyone watched in total silence as Audrey was fucked at both ends. It didn’t take the males long to come and as soon as they stopped spurting the mistress replaced them with two more. While they were thrusting into Audrey Mistress Jill sent for the other male teams. We had nine males on the farm that day, and Audrey was fucked by every one of them.

Audrey was resting her face in the mud with her head turned just enough that she could breathe. She must have never experienced rectal intercourse, because her head flew up when the mistress gave the last male permission to shove his cock up her ass. I thought Audrey was going to speak. I saw her chin quiver but she pursed her lips and was silent. She groaned when the male put his cock at her rectum, but her groan rose to a shriek of pain when he thrust inside. The male’s hands weren’t tied and he fucked her violently. He grabbed her shoulders and slung her body from side to side in rhythm with his thrusts. Mud splashed high in the air. Audrey’s face went into the mud and when he was able to lift it she gasped for air. Even under the coating of mud I could see the panic in her eyes.

Luckily for Audrey, the male was horny and came quickly. The mistress pulled him off her and sent him to the washroom.

The crowd broke up and Audrey was left kneeling in the mud. Her body trembled and shook as she sobbed.

The rest of us were washed down. When we were clean they brought her into the washroom, stripped off her harness and hoisted her off the floor. Three mistresses attended to her and they didn’t let up a bit. They tightened her bonds until her body was stretched like a bowstring, then they hosed the mud off her body with cold water. After the first layer was gone they scrubbed her with stiff brushes and warm soapy water. One mistress stood on a box and poured bucket after bucket over her face and head, then she shampooed Audrey’s hair.

Audrey was in a daze when they strung her up but she seemed to perk up during her bath. Her eyes opened and she looked around. When she was clean we saw several painful looking welts on her tummy from Mistress Jean’s whip.

“I wonder if she enjoyed the whip?” Number Three murmured.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Those were pretty painful blows between her legs.”

“Do you think that’s the first time she’s been whipped on her pussy?” Four asked.

“From the way she acted I’d say so,” Two said.

After they’d dried her, the mistresses decided to molest Audrey further by inserting vibrators up her ass and pussy. I saw a look of surprise on her face at first, but it changed to one of pure lust. We watched with interest.

“I think she’s enjoying herself now,” Number Three observed.

“Um hmm,” Number Two agreed. “She’s as bad a slut as the rest of us.”

“She sure is,” Number Three said. “And she looked so elegant last night. I never would have figured her for this.”

“Wow,” Number Four said in awe. “Look, she’s coming again.”

“Never judge a book,” I said.

“No kidding.”

After dinner we were locked into the stable. Audrey was so exhausted that the mistresses had to help her to her bunk. She curled up under a blanket and closed her eyes. New ponies under estimate how exhausting the work is here. It usually takes them quite a while to get in shape, even those who come to us thinking they are physically fit. For the first few days they are usually very tired after work, too tired for sex. The weekenders discover this and those that come back find it necessary to work out very hard at home in order to enjoy their time on the farm.

The rest of us sat and talked and after a while Audrey sat up and looked around. Gloria entered her cell and handed her a cup of tea. Gloria sat beside her and they talked quietly until lights out.

CRUCIFIED MALES

The next day we worked the fields. The teams were being prepared and I saw Audrey and Gloria emerge from the equipment barn pulling a small cart. Audrey was in the same heavy training harness and looked uncomfortable. Gloria wore similar harness and looked patiently resigned. Together they looked adorable. Mistress Jill led them.

Mistress Agnes decided to put her team in strict cock and ball harness and since all the males are horny and perpetually hard she had to ice them down to get the cages on. She brought out a bucket of ice water and plunged her hands in. When they were cold she grasped the lead male and held his cock until it shriveled, then she slipped the cage on and locked it. She did the same with number two and three but ran into a problem with number four. The ice water didn’t cool him off and his cock remained very hard, in fact, it looked like he enjoyed the touch of her cold hands. He humped with his hips and groaned loudly enough to earn a few vicious cuts across his chest with a whip. He must have been a terrific masochist because his eyes rolled up and he spurted cum. A lot of cum! Mistress Agnes was still holding his cock and her hand and arm were coated. She gasped in indignation and this brought laughter from a couple of other mistresses so she whipped him harder. The problem was she was trying to shake his cum off while she whipped him with one hand and the more she whipped him the harder he spurted. I have to admit that he spurted an impressive amount. Mistress Agnes finally stopped hitting him and ran into the barn to wash her hands.

The pony boy sagged to his knees, which pulled the rest of his team down too. He knelt with his head lowered while semen dripped from his cock. His teammates were quite excited but their cock cages kept them from showing it. Never the less, they were practically pawing the ground when Mistress Agnes returned. She took one look and groaned.

“I don’t think you’re going to get any work out of them unless you attend to their uh, needs,” observed one of the other mistresses. The others nodded.

Mistress Agnes undid their cock cages and three incredibly erect penises shot upward. She began masturbating the team leader, paused and looked at the other mistresses.

“Do you mind giving me a hand?” she asked. (Wrong thing to say.)

“Not a chance,” laughed one of the others. “And I’m not going to give your slaves a hand either.”

The other mistress laughed. Even Mistress Eve giggled.

Mistress Agnes pumped her lead pony’s cock furiously and he came within minutes. She moved to number two and number three and had them spurting quite soon. She thought she was finished but number four was hard again. He climbed to his feet and offered his penis hopefully. Mistress Agnes sagged in defeat and masturbated him again. By the time he came again the others were hard.

“Agnes, I think you’ve got a long day ahead of you,” observed one of the watching mistresses.

“Yes, I hope your arm holds out,” laughed another.

Mistress Agnes clenched her teeth then walked slowly away. She motioned the other mistresses to follow. They conferred together for a moment and came to an agreement.

“I think the pony boys may be in for it,” Number Four muttered. I nodded.

The mistresses went into the barn and emerged moments later carrying crosses.

“Uh oh,” Number Four whispered.

“Those lucky boys,” Number Two said loud enough for Mistress Eve to hear.

“Oh? Do you think they are lucky?” she asked. “Do you like being crucified?”

“Oh yes, Mistress,” Two said breathlessly.

“How about the rest of you?” she asked. “Would you like to have a team crucifixion?”

There was a general ripple through the team. Number Three made a muted squeaking sound and tried to rub her legs together. Number Four shook her breasts shamelessly and I was so excited that my knees almost gave way. Daringly I met Mistress Eve’s eyes and nodded.

“Well, we shall see,” she mused. “I don’t think we’ve ever had a multiple crucifixion.” She looked at the preparations. “At least not before today.”

The mistresses erected the crosses and hoisted the males up. They raised the boys by tugging on their wrist ropes then secured them with thin cord on their wrists, upper arms and ankles. They tied the boys firmly so their bodies wouldn’t sag and constrict their chests. Once the males were secured to the crosses the mistresses tied very thin ropes around their balls and tossed the ends over a tree limb and attached weights to them. The males were very erect and this must have been pleasant (at least to pain loving slave boys) because each one of those cocks rose noticeably higher.

Mistress Eve started to lead us away but paused when she saw Mistress Agnes putting on raspy gloves. Mistress Agnes took her time and made sure that her gloves were on tightly, then smiling evilly she grasped the number four male’s cock and caressed it gently. He tensed in delight then gasped when she began masturbating him very hard and very fast. He spurted within a few minutes but she didn’t stop. His groans of pleasure turned to whimpers of pain and eventually they became screams. Mistress Agnes jerked her head toward one of the other mistresses who shoved a large ball gag into his mouth and buckled it behind the back of his head. Mistress Agnes never stopped pumping the slave’s penis.

I looked at Audrey. Her eyes were huge and she was unconsciously squeezing her thighs together. Even Gloria was breathing hard and bright pink in the face. Mistress Jill climbed onto the cart and tapped them on the shoulder with her buggy whip. Gloria stepped off instantly but Audrey, rapt at watching what was happening to the males, was slow. That earned her half a dozen snaps over her shoulder right onto her breasts. She gasped then hopped forward to get in step with Gloria. Mistress Jill drove them toward the hills and amused herself with light taps with the whip on their breasts in sequence. Gloria’s right, Gloria’s left, Audrey’s right, Audrey’s left, then back to Gloria’s right.

Mistress Eve clucked the reins over my shoulder and we went to the fields.

STAMPEDE

All day I thought about the males on their crosses and what might be happening to them. Usually when one of us spends the day on a cross everyone who passes by is permitted to stop and torment the victim. The last time I was tied to a cross I was finger fucked by at least twenty people, and that doesn’t count the pinched nipples, slaps and spanks and whips and paddles.

The entire team was aroused by what we’d seen and we stayed that way all day. Mistress Eve worked us pretty hard and to keep our minds on our work was generous with her whip.

At the end of the day we felt good and on the way back to the stables we were all acting frisky. Number Two wanted to run and charged forward in her traces. She took me by surprise and almost made me fall. That earned her a dozen snaps from Mistress Eve’s whip, but she took them without wincing and just kept straining at the traces. I yanked her back but she just winked at me. Even after another whipping she kept bouncing on her feet.

“What’s the matter with you?” I muttered.

“I feel good and I want to go for a run,” she said.

“God, we’ve been working all day,” Number Four said. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Nope.” She kept bouncing.

I wasn’t tired either and it would be nice to blow off some energy. I looked back at Mistress Eve.

She raised her eyebrows questioningly so I hopped up and down, then ran in place a few steps.

“Do you girls feel like running?” Mistress Eve asked. We all nodded.

“All right.”

She unhooked the plow and left it in the road. She rearranged us in a line abreast, cracked the whip on my butt and yelled: “Go!”

We took off.

It took a few furlongs to get into rhythm but as soon as we got in step we ran like the wind. Even with our arms bound and bits in our mouths we dashed along the road. Mistress Eve ran behind easily keeping pace. It took five minutes to reach the barn and we weren’t ready to stop, and even though Mistress Eve yanked on the reins we kept going right through the barnyard. Staff and ponies scattered before us.

“What is the matter with you?” one mistress yelled to Eve in annoyance.

“They’re out of control,” she shouted laughing. “I can’t stop them.”

Number Four neighed like a horse and we ran faster. I got a quick glimpse of the males hanging on their crosses. Even in that brief moment I saw that they were unconscious but their cocks were purple and swollen.

We were through the yard and rounding the drive by the house. Mistress Eve was laughing as she ran, but she called out to us.

“If you want to run, lets go back and get a sulky. I need to sit down!”

We obeyed and I led the team in a wide circle back to the equipment barn. We slowed to a trot, and then walked inside. Mistress Eve pulled a sulky from the wall and hooked us to it. It took only a minute and as soon as I felt her weight on the seat I took off again. We dashed out the door and there were more indignant shouts as people  scattered again. Mistress Eve guided me with the reins and I obeyed. She took us out to the perimeter road, cracked the whip four times and let the reins go slack. I settled into a steady jog and the others matched my stride. We ran for half an hour and it felt absolutely wonderful.

When we got back Mistress Karen was waiting.

“Oops, we might be in trouble,” Number Three whispered.

When we came to a stop Mistress Karen signaled for Mistress Eve to get down and she climbed into the seat. I gasped with pride and delight. What an honor!

Mistress Karen tugged the reins back until our heads were pointed to the sky. The bits dug into our mouths and we couldn’t move. She tugged harder and I had to hop to keep my balance. Harder still and I realized that we should back up. I stepped backwards, and the others followed. We got in step and backed up. She tugged our bits to the right and we backed a complete circle, then she had us back in another circle to the left. When she allowed us to stop were panting with pain in our necks and shoulders and trembling with fear. Finally Mistress Karen released her terrible grip on the reins.

The barnyard was silent as everyone watched her assert control over us.

Her whip curled over my shoulder and snapped onto my right nipple. Boy, did that hurt! Another got my left nipple, then my right, and so on. Mistress Karen wasn’t giving me gentle erotic love taps; these were serious whip blows intended to remind me who was in charge. I stood as still as possible and endured the fire in my breasts. The other girls locked themselves into rigid attention and stared straight ahead hoping to avoid the same treatment. It didn’t help. They also received some very accurate and very painful snaps on their nipples.

“I don’t think we are going to see anymore runaway teams, are we?” Mistress Karen asked. I quickly shook my head.

She shook the reins and I walked forward. The others kept perfect step. Mistress Karen walked us out of the barnyard, but once away from everyone, she shook the reins again and cracked the whip beside my ear. My belly went cold with fear and I couldn’t suppress a squeal of fright. (Once, long ago I had felt the whip on my ear and that hurt like pure hell!) I began trotting. She allowed us to trot for a few hundred yards, then loosed the reins and snapped the whip on my bottom. I broke into a dead run.

We were tired but there was no idea of slacking off. I ran full speed. I didn’t care if the others could keep up or not. They got in step and matched my stride. That’s hard to do at a dead run but they didn’t want to give Mistress Karen any more reasons to be annoyed with us. We ran as if we were being chased by lions.

After a while Mistress Karen checked my reins lightly, and I slowed to a nice steady trot. She took us all the way around the perimeter road again and when we returned to the barns we were sweaty and excited.

Mistress Karen climbed off the sulky and stood in front of us. “I don’t know why I put up with you, even if you are the number one team,” she said with a faint smile.

Number Three wiggled her breasts about a millimeter but Mistress Karen saw it.

“Would you like the whip again?” she pinched Three’s nipple gently.

Three nodded.

Mistress Karen bent and put her mouth on Three’s nipple. I thought she was kissing it but instead she bit down. Number Three tried to stay at attention but eventually a deep keening sound came from her throat and her knees sagged. Mistress Karen kept her teeth on that lucky nipple until Three gasped in orgasm. Mistress Karen chuckled, squeezed Three’s breasts and said: “Bad pony, bad, bad pony.”

Number Three wriggled in delight.

Mistress Karen helped Mistress Eve unharnessing us. We stood quietly as they undid the buckles. Mistress Karen stood in front of me and touched the welts on my breasts.

“That must have hurt,” she commented. I pushed them forward.

She ran her fingers along the marks then squeezed gently. I hoped she would bite them the way she had Number Three. I didn’t dare look directly at her but I lowered my chin, tilted my face to the side and slowly raised my eyes to her breasts. Over the years that motion had evolved into the message that the pony girl would like to have sex with the mistress. Mistress Karen understood perfectly. She pinched my nipples.

“We’ll see,” she said softly.

As we were being washed down Audrey emerged from the bathroom on her hands and knees, She was still wearing her heavy training harness with a thick punishment bit and blinders. Mistress Jean followed her reins in one hand and carrying a bucket full of cleansers and brushes in the other. Audrey and Gloria had pulled Mistress Jill’s cart all morning, then in the afternoon Audrey had been put to work cleaning and scrubbing. I wondered if she had ever done that kind of work in her life. She sat on her knees for a moment and looked around. Her face was smudged and her hair was a mess, fresh welts on her bottom and back indicated that she was getting acquainted with the whip and she wore some painful looking nipple clamps, but her face was serene and she managed a shy smile around her bit when our eyes met. Her mistress tapped her butt with a riding crop and Audrey obediently crawled through the gate. Her bottom swayed seductively as she crawled. Mistress Eve paused and watched.

“Looks like the new lady is fitting right in,” she remarked.

“Um hmm,” I said admiringly.

“Nice bottom too,” commented Mistress Eve.

Audrey heard and gave another wiggle. I took a deep admiring breath.

I wasn’t a lesbian when I joined the farm, I wasn’t even bi sexual but I knew I would have to submit to women so I gave it a lot of thought before making the final decision. My need for submission made just about any degrading act sound exciting, and the more humiliating the better. I got a thrill thinking about the embarrassment of putting my tongue in another woman’s pussy. The idea made my pussy tingle.

When I came to the farm I felt an odd combination of emotions the first few times that I had sex with another woman. I felt mild revulsion from the physical act, yet the submission was a turn on, especially with people watching. I didn’t like the sex for its sake but I loved being obedient. I craved humiliation then (as I still do) and vowed to make myself the best at licking pussies just to prove what a good slave I was. I still prefer men but over the years I’ve become proud of my skill at making ladies come and I’ve learned to enjoy sex with other women, but never before had I wanted to make love to a woman so badly as I did with Audrey.  

It must have shown in my face because Mistress Eve looked at me curiously. She gave the tiny nod that was a signal to speak.

“I’d give anything to be with her,” I whispered.

“Would you?” Mistress Eve asked.

I nodded deeply.

“Would you like me to set it up?”

I looked at her in surprise. Was she serious?

“I will do anything I can to repay that, my Mistress,” I said softly.

“Hmm, would you indeed?” she mused.

“Just name it.”

“I’m going to my sorority reunion in June,” she said. “I just might take you along to pleasure a few of my friends.”

“Why not let me pleasure them all?” I asked.

“That would a lot of pussies to eat,” she laughed. “At least fifty or sixty women will be there.”

“I believe I’m up to the task,” I said proudly.

“In that case I might just see about double crossing you with her.” (Double crossing is where two slaves are strapped to an X frame with their faces in each other’s crotch. The frame slowly rotates. It’s so fantastically erotic that even straight women usually have orgasms.)

“You would do that for me, my lady?” I breathed. It would be too good to be true.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” she said.

After dinner we learned that Mistress Agnes had masturbated her males all day long. At first she was rough, using the raspy gloves on the boys, but even the most die hard masochist can run out of steam after too much pain, so she switched to gentler tactics. She poured baby oil on their tender cocks and caressed them softly and delicately. She made them cum many, many times that day and when even the soft touch seemed to fail she kept them excited.

She undressed slowly and rubbed her breasts against their skin and she grabbed any passing female slaves and made them strip naked to entice the boys. Even the mistresses entered into the fun and some of them took off their clothes. (That’s not something you see very often).

Mistress Jill volunteered Audrey and Gloria and had them kneel between the males’ legs and suck their cocks. That was good for a few more orgasms and when the men stopped responding Mistress Agnes let them rest for a while.

She fed them a high protein lunch at ten o’clock and allowed them to rest. The men were so worn that it was difficult to keep them erect so Mistress Agnes made a contest between Audrey, Gloria and two other slaves to see who could keep her male hardest longest. Gloria won hands down.

Mistress Agnes made them keep the boys hard but wouldn’t allow them to come for a long time. Frustration kept the males hard and they were thrusting and grinding their hips whimpering to spurt again. Mistress Agnes watched carefully and let them get very close, then she’d pull the slave’s mouths off the boys and let them cool down. She watched the clock and teased her boys for one solid hour before allowing them to come.

After that they couldn’t get hard so Mistress Agnes brought out the house ponies and made them join in. The women, both slaves and mistresses swarmed the helpless men and caressed their bodies with hands, lips and breasts. Even Mistress Jill took her clothes off. We were shocked to hear that a couple of mistress actually sucked the males’ cocks. Mistresses are allowed to do anything they want with a slave but it’s rare to see them putting penises in their mouths in public.

They also alternated between caresses and punishment. (Did you know that biting a masochistic male’s nipples will make his cock get hard even if he’s exhausted?  Having three or four mistresses rake their nails down his chest and back and legs while a pretty slave licks his balls has the same effect.) At the end of the day the boys were covered with bite marks and scratches. By noon they were still convulsing with orgasms but nothing came out any more. They were so exhausted that they fainted. Gloria said it was like dominos falling. The lead male passed out mid way through another dry orgasm, and even though he lost consciousness his cock kept throbbing for several minutes before it slowly wilted. The number two went out the same way, then three and four, all in just a few seconds. Mistress Agnes checked to make sure they weren’t dead, then let them hang on the crosses all afternoon. Their cocks were soft but large, but not from passion. They were swollen from bruising.

When the males were taken down they had to be carried to their stable.

DEBBIE GETS BRANDED

After dinner we lounged around until it got dark, then we were strapped tightly into bondage and led outside. The bondage was necessary because the mistresses knew that a formal branding could lead to a sexual riot.

An X cross-had been erected in the barnyard. Two bonfires burned a few feet to each side. Debbie was led out and strapped to the cross. Her pussy was freshly shaven, her body had been oiled and her hair was done up nicely. Her eyes were shining. A chair had been placed in the center of the courtyard and we other ponies were tethered in a large circle. The other women on Debbie’s team were bound to stakes behind her. Everyone was present except the crucified males who were still unconscious on their bunks. A charcoal fire glowed in a barbecue grill in front of Debbie and a branding iron rested among the coals. Debby took a long deep breath the moment she saw that iron.

Mistress Donna led Debbie out and strapped her to the cross. Mistress Donna is a tall statuesque red head with huge natural breasts. She had been an officer in the army before she came to the farm. Rumor had it that a man had tried to rape her but she defended herself so successfully that she knocked him unconscious. Then she stripped him naked, tied him up and left him to be seen by the other soldiers. He was court marshaled but she was officially criticized for the way she handled the matter so she decided to leave the army.

She discovered that she got a thrill when she beat that man up and she’d heard about the farm, so she drove across the country and asked to join the staff. Mistress Karen took one look and accepted her on the spot.

Mistress Donna is not gay and rarely has sex with female ponies, but she is so beautiful that she drives lesbians insane. On rare occasions she will accept guest pony girls but she tortures them for hours before they even get a peek at her pussy. A slave girl has to endure an awful lot before she gets to kiss Mistress Donna between the legs. And her disdain makes them want her all the more.

She’s tough on the males too, but every one of them would give his soul to be on her team.

For the occasion she wore a formal Dom costume of a white transparent blouse, unbuttoned to her navel, a black leather mini skirt, knee boots and white gloves. She had added large rhinestone earrings and a rhinestone necklace that sparkled like fire. She looked magnificent.

Mistress Donna tapped Debbie’s pussy with a riding crop and squeezing her breasts with her free hand. Debbie was so excited that the riding crop was soon soaked. Debbie gasped in delight but her eyes never left the branding iron.

We waited and watched until Mistress Karen arrived. She was dressed in a formal Dom out fit too. A long red leather skirt slit up the front, a transparent blue blouse and the highest red heels I’ve ever seen on a woman. She walked regally to her chair and sat down.

Mistress Donna made a little speech about what an obedient pony Debbie was and how hard she had worked, and how she had accepted punishment without complaint (which brought a few giggles from us; Debbie was notorious as the worst masochist on the farm) and how after proving herself to the satisfaction of all the mistresses, Debbie was to be rewarded by being branded.

The lights dimmed until the only illumination came from the fires. They cast a primitive red light that reflected off the buildings and trees. Mistress Donna took the branding iron from the fire, held it in front of Debbie and spoke quietly to her. The bright red glow of the branding iron lit up Debbie’s face. She never took her eyes off the iron. When Mistress Donna finished speaking, the spotlight light came on and focused on Debbie’s crotch.

“I shall want a slow count to ten,” Mistress Donna said loudly.

Debbie took a deep breath and tightened every muscle in her body. 

Mistress Donna pressed the red-hot iron against the skin of Debbie’s belly.

Debbie froze and slowly raised her eyes upward. The mistresses began to count.

“One,” pause.

“Two,” pause.

“Three,” they chanted slowly but their voices grew louder. No one else made a sound.

Smoke appeared on Debbie’s skin and I heard her flesh sizzle. My pussy was already throbbing but I felt a sweet hot fire grow at the sound of that sizzle.

“Four,” the chant continued.

“Five.”

“Six.”

Debbie’s mouth dropped open and her eyes slowly closed.

“Seven.”

“Eight.”

“Nine.”

Debbie’s chest expanded as she took in a long deep breath.

“Ten!”

Debbie’s scream echoed off the buildings. She screamed and screamed and screamed! She held that piercing shriek longer than I thought humanly possible. Then she collapsed in her bonds.

Mistress Donna dropped the branding iron, took Debbie’s face between her hands and looked intently into her eyes. Debbie raised her eyes, smiled and mouthed the words: “Thank you.”

Mistress Donna turned and walked away.

I realized I was holding my breath. Suddenly the entire courtyard was filled with noise. Females were sobbing, or moaning or gasping, and the males were groaning and panting and fighting their bonds. 

I caught sight of Audrey. She was kneeling beside Mistress Jill. Her eyes were on Debbie and tears were on her cheeks. Her mistress bent, asked her a question and Audrey nodded. The mistress untied her hands and they flew to her pussy. Audrey spread her knees and masturbated. In the pandemonium few noticed as Mistress Jill placed her foot on Audrey’s side and toppled her onto her back. Audrey opened her legs and dug her fingers deep into her vagina. Her mistress stood over her on wide spread feet. Another mistress led her team close and made them watch. Audrey opened her eyes, looked up at the crowd and never missed a beat. She raised her body on her shoulders, opened her legs wider and masturbated until she came. She came hard too. She thrashed about, rolling her head wildly from side to side and kicking her legs. I don’t think she was acting.

The mistresses used whips and riding crops to restore order. Only one male managed to slip his bonds but he was pounced on and quickly subdued by a couple of Mistresses. Cracking whips, slaps and pinches finally got the slaves back under discipline and they were led back to the stables. Audrey’s mistress led her back to the stable on her hands and knees.

Mistress Karen got to her feet and walked to Debbie. She inspected Debbie’s brand, spoke a few words to her and patted her pussy. She looked around the yard for a few moments, and then walked to me. My pussy throbbed with anticipation. She looked into my eyes for a long, long time, then snapped a leash to my collar and led me toward the house. I was so thrilled that I could barely contain myself, but I managed to look back at Debbie. She hung on her cross with the happiest expression I’d ever seen on a woman’s face.

MISTRESS KAREN

In her apartment Mistress Karen removed my harness and sat me in an easy chair. She tied my arms behind the chair, and then lifted my legs up and apart until my knees were beside my face. She tied them tightly and left me there. I loved the vulnerable feeling the position gave me.

Mistress Karen poured herself a glass of wine then puttered around checking her mail and going through papers on her personal desk. I watched admiringly as she moved about with such grace in her leather skirt. From time to time she gave me a sip from her glass. I was sorry when she undressed and slipped into a lacy nightgown. (Don’t get me wrong, she looked adorable in that see through gown, but she was absolute dynamite in leather!)

She placed a chair beside me and made a few personal calls. Her hand rested in my crotch while she talked and her fingers were soon driving me wild. Pony discipline or not, it was very hard for me to keep quiet while her fingertips caressed the center of my soul. I was squirming in my ropes and trying very hard to be good, but very soon I was gasping on the verge of coming, so she withdrew her hand.

She waited until I settled down, and then put her hand back. Within moments I was biting my lip trying not to moan. Her hand vanished again.

Mistress Karen nearly drove me out of my mind that evening. Aside from the fact that she is a beautiful woman, she is a complete expert at teasing slaves. Her gentle touch was thrilling beyond belief.

After making several business related calls she telephoned her sister. Out of respect I tried to keep quiet but her hand had wandered between my legs again and it took every ounce of my resolve to keep from screaming in joy. Even though I hadn’t had an orgasm I was so deliriously happy that I wanted to shout it out. I rolled my eyes pleadingly and Mistress Karen took pity on me. Still talking on the phone she opened a drawer and took out a ball gag. I was so relieved to see it that I almost cried. I opened wide and she buckled it securely in my mouth. I sagged in the chair, sighing in relief. 

Mistress Karen finished her call then stood in front of me. I hoped that she would put me on my knees, but what she did next astounded me.

“Did you like seeing me bite your team mate’s nipple?”

I nodded.

“Would you like the same?”

I nodded.

She bent close and put her lips on my nipple. That alone was heavenly, but she I felt her teeth close over it then gently bite I had an instant orgasm. The orgasm grew as the pressure of her teeth increased. She kept my nipple imprisoned and actually chewed lightly on it. I was thrashing in the chair and squealing under my gag. Mistress Karen released me, smiled and went after the other nipple. It had the same effect and I had another orgasm within minutes. When she finally removed her mouth from my breasts I was light headed with pleasure.

She sipped her wine and watched in amusement as I writhed in the wonderful afterglow. When I got my breathing back to normal and could focus my eyes again she bent and looked at my brand. “I remember the day we branded you,” she mused. “Did you really have an orgasm, or were you faking?”

I shook my head slowly. I remembered that wonderful day too, and I hadn’t been faking. I had the orgasm of a lifetime when the hot iron was pressed against my tummy.

Karen touched my brand, then bent forward and kissed it. My God! I thought I was in heaven. Nothing could be better! But then, her lips traveled down to my pussy and I felt her tongue touch my clitoris!

Heavenly!

Ladies, imagine the greatest, most powerful orgasm you’ve ever imagined, and then multiply it by ten. That’s what I felt, when that beautiful, powerful, commanding queen-like woman touched her tongue to me. I fainted.

When I woke up I was untied and my gag was gone. I was curled up in the chair and a soft comforter covered my body. Mistress Karen was on the couch sipping her wine. She looked at me with amusement and tenderness.

“Did you really faint?” she asked, handing me a glass of wine.

“Yes, my lady,” I whispered.

“Hmm, I envy you,” she said. “I’ve never fainted from an orgasm.”

“Well, I don’t know if I can make that happen,” I said. “But with your permission, I’d love to try.”

She smiled. She set her glass down and pulled her gown up a few inches. It was the most enticing and erotic thing I’d ever seen.

“All right. I think I’ll accept your offer.”

My heart leapt. I crawled out of the chair and dropped to the floor. I lay on my belly and wriggled like a snake across the carpet. When I reached her I kissed her feet. Mistress Karen sighed happily as I sucked her toes and that sigh was like a chorus from angels to me.

I washed every inch of her feet with my tongue, and dried them with my hair. I took a long slow time and carefully worked my way up her ankles and legs. I wanted so much to plunge my tongue into her pussy but I made myself be patient. I devoted half an hour to her lower legs.

When I reached her knees she lifted the skirt of her gown and opened her legs. I dared not look at her pussy, for I knew that my resolve would fail and I would throw my face into it. I lowered my eyes and kissed her thighs. Mistress Karen scrunched down and rested her feet on the coffee table. Her knees fell open wider and on any other woman her pose would have been erotic, but undignified, yet Mistress Karen somehow managed to keep her regal grace, even with her legs spread. I was trembling when I reached her pussy and the sweet, sweet smell nearly drove me wild. It took every ounce of self-restraint but I didn’t allow myself to kiss her pussy until I had licked every inch of her inner thighs.

Mistress Karen gasped and her body jerked when my tongue touched her pussy. After that I lost all control and worshipped her with all my being. I licked and kissed and thrust my tongue into her until she groaned loudly and came.

I sat on my heels for a moment, then bent forward and buried my face between her legs again. Mistress Karen gasped in surprise, then giggled and opened her legs a bit wider.

“Ok, lets see if you can make me faint,” she laughed.

I made her come twice more, but she didn’t faint. She leaned back closed her eyes and drifted into a soft sleep after the last orgasm. I placed the comforter over her and curled up on the floor beneath her feet.

I lay on the carpet for about an hour listening to Mistress Karen breathing softly. Finally, I had to go to the bathroom. I crawled quietly across the floor and into the bath. I closed the door and tried to be as quiet as a mouse, but when I came out Mistress Karen was turning down the bed.

I expected to be taken back to the stables but she motioned for me to get in the bed, then she took off her gown and climbed in beside me.

WAKING IN MISTRESS KAREN’S BEDROOM

I woke the next morning to bright sunlight in the windows. I lay in bed for a moment stretching and luxuriating in the soft sheets. Then I sat up with a start. Mistress Karen was gone and the clock read nine thirty! I gasped and jumped out of bed. I must be in so much trouble! Then I calmed down and realized that Mistress Karen had allowed me to sleep late. I opened the door and peeked out. The hallway was empty. I closed the door and looked around the room. Everything was so beautiful. The room, which was actually a suite, was so elegant and feminine. I noticed a breakfast service on a tray. I lifted one of the covers and found an entire breakfast waiting, including a pot of coffee, another of tea and a carafe of orange juice. Wonderful. For the first time since my last furlough I ate like a civilized woman.

After breakfast I went in to the bathroom, and dared to take a long lovely hot shower. Afterwards I tidied up the bath and cleaned Mistress Karen’s suite. When I finished I put on my harness and took one long last look around. I picked up the breakfast tray and walked out.

In the hallway I met one of the house ponies dusting the furniture. She smiled at me and didn’t seem surprised to see a field pony wandering around. She took the tray from me.

There are six house ponies and they’re treated differently from the rest of us. They sleep in a separate stable. They are all very beautiful and wear pretty costumes and almost never have to work in the fields. We call them the princesses.

The girl I met was Valerie, who had been a Las Vegas chorus girl before selling herself into slavery. Val was tall and walked with more grace and elegance than any woman had a right to do. She wore a black and white outfit that was more like a performance costume than work harness. The leather was much more supple and comfortable and glistened like patent leather. Today’s outfit was black and white and had a hint of a French maid costume. She wore a lace ruff and white gloves under her leather and even had a tiny white apron suspended from her belt. It was pretty but did nothing to hide her pussy, and believe it or not she wore five-inch spike heels. (How a girl could work in shoes like that all day long is beyond me, but the house ponies manage.)

House ponies spend most of their time inside and never do hard labor, so to keep them fit Mistress Karen makes them exercise for two hours every day. We see them trotting around the training paddock rehearsing dressage routines, then they are hooked to sulkies and taken for a long run around the farm. Actually, the house ponies make up one of our best racing teams and have won a number of competitions. Some of the field ponies are jealous of the house ponies because they have it nice and wear such sexy outfits, but most of us prefer to work out doors. Being masochists, we enjoy a life of hard work and pain and few of us really want to priss around in showgirl costumes. We prefer dirt under our feet, rough leather between our legs and the delight of a horsewhip snapping on our nipples. House ponies are spanked but never whipped because Mistress Karen doesn’t want marks on their delicate skin.

To give Val her due, she didn’t want to be a house pony. She came to the farm to be a field pony and she would rather be pulling a plow than dusting furniture. She had asked many times to be put on a plow team, but Mistress Karen wouldn’t let her go.

Val didn’t speak, ponies must remain silent at all times, but she looked around, then leaned close and kissed me on the lips, then trotted away.

I stood in confusion for a moment. I had expected Val to lead me outside, or at least tell me where I should go. As I stood a door opened down the hall and Mary the accountant walked out. She looked at me in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I spent the night in Mistress Karen’s room,” I answered. “And she let me sleep late.”

Mary’s eyebrows rose. “That’s very unusual,” she said. “You must be pretty good.”

I blushed with pride.

Mary looked at me in a calculating way, and then she took hold of the ring on my collar.

“Come with me,” she ordered. She led me down stairs to her office.

Inside, she closed the door and motioned for me to get on my knees. Mary isn’t really a mistress; she is the accountant and never controls or dominates ponies. She has the same privileges as the mistresses, including the right to use any pony she wants, but she never carries a whip or wears leather. In fact, she is a mousy looking woman who dresses in a dowdy fashion, with long skirts, sensible shoes and little or no makeup. There are a lot of snide jokes about how Mary would be better in harness than in clothing.

She looked at me for a long moment, and then pointed under her desk. I crawled under it and turned around. She sat down opened her legs and pulled her skirt up. I was astonished to see that she wore no panties and had one of the hairiest pussies I’d ever seen. Oh well, I put my face between her legs and got busy.

Actually I enjoyed eating Mary’s pussy. It tasted nice and perversely I liked all that hair. She ordered me to go slow, and then began doing paperwork.

I ate her pussy lightly all morning while she shuffled papers and made phone calls. My back got stiff from being bent over so long and my knees were tender from the carpet, but I enjoyed being between her legs. A couple of times people came in and I honestly don’t know if they saw me under the desk or not, but it did make what I was doing feel very exciting and wicked. Being a slave is enjoyable enough, but kneeling under a desk is terrific. Sometimes I even got so excited that I forgot her order to go slow. I found myself thrusting my tongue deep inside her and wanted to make her come so loudly that the whole household would come running in to see what all the noise was about.

A few times I got her close, but Mary would push my head away and rest for a few minutes, then she’d put her hand between her legs and motion me to resume. Finally, just before lunch she lay back in the chair, stretched out her legs and told me to make her come. I lunged forward so eagerly that I knocked the chair back a few inches. She laughed, I giggled, and then I buried my face in her crotch. She didn’t scream when she came, but she squeezed my head so tight between her thighs that I couldn’t breathe. I’ve eaten an awful lot of pussies, but that morning in Mary’s office was one that I’ll never forget.

Mary lay back so long that I thought she’d fallen asleep, luckily her legs loosened enough that I didn’t suffocate. Finally she roused, untangled my head and her legs and stood up. I crawled out and blinked in the light. Mary went into the bathroom and washed up, leaving me kneeling on the carpet. She came back, motioned for me to crawl out the door and flagged down a passing mistress.

“Take her back to the stables or where ever she’s needed,” she told the mistress.

The mistress, whose name is Mistress Stephanie, clipped a leash to my collar and led me away, still on my knees. I looked back. Mary was leaning against the doorjamb, her hair was still disheveled but there was look of absolute contentment on her face.

The mistress glanced down at me. “Hmm, you must be as good with your tongue as they say you are,” she commented.

“May I be permitted to show you, mistress?” I asked.

Her eyebrows rose. “Well, well, speaking without permission,” she said. “You must like punishment too.”

I looked up at her for a second then lowered my eyes coyly. I wiggled my butt and shook my boobs at her.

“Ok,” she chuckled. “First you get a good whipping, then I’ll find out if you truly are the best pussy eater on the farm.”

My pussy was throbbing like a volcano as she led me away.

Once outside she made me walk. We passed the training paddock and saw Audrey marching in a circle tethered to a walker. She wore a very high collar and her arms were strapped tightly behind her but she was high stepping as proudly as a prize dressage pony. A mistress stood by and snapped a long whip on Audrey’s bottom each time she made the circle. Audrey’s butt and legs showed fresh pink welts but she made no reaction when the whip struck. Interestingly she wasn’t connected to the walker by a leash but by cords clamped to her nipples. We made eye contact and I winked at her. Even beneath her training bit she managed to smile.

Mistress Stephanie led me to the whipping posts and tied me tightly between two of them, then she went into the tack room and came back carrying a flogger with long thin strands. My heart leapt because I knew that thing was going to hurt.

Mistress Stephanie slipped out of her shirt and swung the whip around for a few minutes warming up. She had medium sized breasts but they were quite firm and they jiggled nicely as she moved. She noticed me watching.

“You must be a hard core lesbian,” she commented.

I shook my head.

“You aren’t?” she asked. “You may speak.”

“I’m not a lesbian,” I said.

She looked at me in mild disbelief.

“Then how did you get the reputation of being the best pussy eater on the farm?” she asked.

“I just try to be the best slave I can,” I answered coyly. “No matter what it takes.”

“What about the masochism?” she asked. “I’ve seen you take whippings and don’t try to tell me that you don’t like pain.”

“Oh no, Mistress,” I answered. “I love being punished. My pussy is already wet thinking about what you are going to do to me.”

She stepped close and whispered conspiratorially. “So is mine.”

She caressed my pussy. She slipped her fingers inside and I came instantly.

“So I see,” she murmured. “Well, shall we begin?”

I nodded eagerly.

Mistress Stephanie whipped me, starting on my breasts. I was so excited that I was glad she didn’t go through any warm up on my body. I wanted the pain and I wanted it right then and there! I turned my breasts toward the whip at each blow and smiled each time the whip hit me.

She gave me fifty delightful and very intense blows on my breasts, and then moved to the insides of my thighs, and best of all, between the lips of my pussy. I came several times while and Mistress Stephanie hadn’t bothered to gag me, so my yelps and squeals and screams attracted a lot of attention. I was soon playing to an audience.

After an hour Mistress Stephanie untied me and I dropped to my knees. She gave me a long drink and allowed me to rest for a while as the crowd wandered away, then she took me to her quarters.

“Stay here,” she commanded pointed to the center of the room, “While I clean up a bit. I worked up quite a sweat just now.”

“May I do that for you?” I asked.

She looked at me in surprise, and then shrugged. “Why not?”

I crawled to her and she stood while I took off her skirt and panties. Mistress Stephanie is a blonde and I giggled when I saw that her pussy was golden blonde as well.

“You like that?” she laughed.

I rubbed my nose in her pubic hair. She grabbed the back of my head and shoved my face deeper. I licked Mistress Stephanie’s pussy for a long sweet time until she came. Afterwards she collapsed onto her bed and closed her eyes. I knelt patiently beside her. Finally she roused. She raised herself on her elbows and looked at me.

“That was very nice,” she said. “But I can’t honestly say that it was the best I’ve ever had.”

“Oh no, my lady,” I said. “That was just an appetizer. Now you lay back and get comfortable and allow me to show you how I earned my reputation.”

“Okay.”

She lay back, wiggled until she was comfortable and opened her legs. I placed a pillow under each of her knees then positioned myself between them. I crept forward until my mouth was at her pussy. I let my breath cool the fresh sweet juices that glistened on her skin and pubic hair, and then I kissed her.

I ate Mistress Stephanie as long and slowly and intently as I possibly could. I watched her breathing and body movements and when it looked like she was close I would ease back a bit. I kept her moaning for hours. Finally, when I could tell that she was hovering on the brink, I made her come. I sucked her clit between my lips and nibbled delicately with my teeth. Not enough to hurt, but with enough pressure to send her into ecstasy. Mistress Stephanie’s muscles went rigid, her body tensed and she rose off the bed for a few seconds. Her face was bright red and contorted. She sat up for a few seconds making a deep keening sound, and then she fainted.

I giggled with pride and crawled out of the bed. I tiptoed to the bath and cleaned up, and then I raided her refrigerator. After all, what could she do to me but give me another flogging?

Mistress Stephanie slept for about an hour, and while I waited I curled up on the floor. I fell asleep too, and when I woke up she was sitting on the side of the bed looking at me. I rose to my knees and assumed the position of a slave.

Mistress Stephanie bent over, took my face in her hand and kissed me long and sweetly.

“Ok, I guess you deserve your reputation.”

I wriggled with pleasure.

Mistress Stephanie took me to the stables and allowed me to rest. I lay on my bunk and fell asleep instantly. I woke when they brought the teams in.

After she washed the others Mistress Eve walked over.

“Well, what have you been doing all day?”

“Actually I slept in this morning,” I answered. “And Mistress Karen permitted me to have breakfast in bed.”

“Really?”

“Yes ma am. Then Mary, the accountant decided to hide me under her desk for a while.”

“And I suppose you helped ease the burdens of her day,” Mistress Eve said.

“I did my best.”

“Was that all?”

“No ma am. Mistress Stephanie brought me back to the stables but I spoke without permission so she flogged me.”

“Is that all she did to you?”

“No, after that she wanted to see if I truly am the best pussy eater on the farm.”

“How did that go?”

“I think I convinced her.”

“Oh?”

I smiled coyly. “Well, Mistress Stephanie fainted.”

Mistress Eve laughed as she walked away.

After we ate the rest of my team wanted to know how I’d spent my day so I repeated the story in greater detail. The other ponies gathered round to listen, including Audrey. By the time I finished a lot of the girls were excited and several were pairing off. I looked across at Audrey and motioned her to me. She looked sad, shook her head and made the hand signal that indicated that she was forbidden to have sex.

Now I had the hots for her so bad that I would have disobeyed and taken my punishment, but Audrey was new and I didn’t want to get her in trouble. The mistresses allow a certain amount of rebelliousness among older ponies, but not when new ones are just starting out. Oh sure, some masochistic ponies will disobey in order to earn a flogging, but that’s recognized as game playing. What I wanted Audrey to do was more serious and might get her expelled, so I didn’t pursue the matter. I just hoped that Mistress Eve would carry through on her promise to have Audrey and me double crossed.

RAINY DAY

The next morning I was back on the plow. We worked for a couple of hours then it began to rain. The rain was light and pleasant at first but we were soon wet and cold. Mistress Eve checked with me a couple of times and I let her know that we were all right, but eventually I could see that the other girls were faltering. Number Three and Number Four were shivering. We would have been ok if Mistress Eve had put hats and sweat shirts on us on us but she waited too long and we were chilled.

And the ground was getting muddy; we were struggling to keep our feet. Finally I stopped, shook my head slowly from side to side and made a show of shivering. Mistress Eve didn’t object. She unhitched the plow and led us home. Once we were out of the field and on the road she trotted us to the stables, which warmed us up a bit.

She washed us down with lots of warm water and toweled us until our skin glowed, then she handed out sweat suits and thick warm socks. (Being a naked slave is sexy beyond belief, but there are times when even an exhibitionist has to wear warm clothing.) To make up for keeping us out too long Mistress Eve had the kitchen bring out a huge pot of coffee and rolls and told us we could relax the rest of the day. We sat in a big circle and talked.

The rest of the teams straggled in and joined the group. The last team included Audrey. She’d been pulling a plow with couple of other new ponies. They were caked with mud, their hair straggled sopping wet, they were shivering and Audrey’s lips were blue. Her mistress gave her a very warm wash down, including a terrific screwing with a dildo. She was soon clean, warm and gasping for breath. After she’d been toweled dry she walked over to join us.

Someone handed her a sweat suit. She slipped the shirt on but folded the pants and sat on them. She sat next to me.

“Aren’t your legs cold?” someone asked.

“No, my pussy is hot enough to keep them warm,” she answered.

My mouth dropped open. I never expected such an elegant woman to say something like that. She smiled at me and sipped her coffee.

“Well, then I’d say you must be liking it here,” my Number Three observed.

“Very much. Its a delightful change from my normal life.”

There were knowing nods.

“Are you planning to come on board permanently?” Number Four asked.

“Unfortunately I cannot,” Audrey answered. “I would dearly love to, but I have responsibilities at home.”

“Yeah, we know how that can be,” one of the other girls said.

“I have children, and my son has a public career,” Audrey said. 

“Yeah, that makes it hard to disappear into slavery,” someone said. “Luckily my kids are grown.”

“You have children and you live here?” Audrey asked.

“Yes.”

“Don’t you miss not ever seeing them?” she asked.

“I see them all the time,” the woman answered. “I visit them every month.”

“You mean you are permitted to leave?” Audrey asked astonished.

“Sure,” I told her. “We all have connections outside, family and friends, and they would start looking for us if we simply disappeared.”

“We don’t want the police coming out here,” another pony said.

Audrey nodded. “I can see why the owner wouldn’t want that.”

“WE don’t want that,” Number Three said. “We don’t want the police or anyone else messing up our life style.”

“So we are allowed to make calls to our families and we are permitted vacations, called furloughs,” I said.

“After all, its not like we wouldn’t come back,” Number Two said. “We’re all here because we want to be.”

There were lots of nods.

“Do your families know what you do here?” she asked.

“Some do,” Number Three said. “But a lot of us have made up cover stories for our life style.”

“What kind of stories?”

“Well, my folks think that I’ve become a hippie and live on a commune,” Three said. “Other ponies have hinted that they live on an ashram or other religious retreat.”

“Yes, my mother thinks that I’m a nun in a convent,” Debbie said.

“Why not?” Gloria said. “I saw you on your knees just yesterday, but you weren’t praying.”

“She must have snuck into the males’ stable,” someone said.

“Well, one of the boys was saying the Lord’s name over and over,” Debbie said piously. That brought on laughter.

“Some of us tell people that we work out of the country and a few of us have a cover story that we work with the Peace Corps,” I told Audrey when the giggling settled down.

Audrey thought that over, and then shrugged.

“I think I would live here, if I could,” she said.

“You’ve only been here a few days,” Number Four said. “You might change your mind.”

“No, I don’t think I would,” Audrey sighed. “I’ll just have to make do with visits when ever I can manage.”

“Your husband wouldn’t object?” someone asked.

“My husband is dead,” she said. “My son brought me here at my request. And he wouldn’t object so long as nothing ever gets out to the press.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “The secrecy here would put Navy Intelligence to shame.”

“I sure hope so,” Audrey said.

“Well, I’ve been here over seventeen years and I don’t know the real names of any of the others.” I looked around the circle.

Several others nodded.

“That is reassuring,” Audrey said.

“So, have you always been a masochist?” someone asked.

Audrey laughed. “In my secret inner soul, I suppose. My husband used to spank me when we were young and he tied me to the bed a few times, but I never experienced anything like what goes on here.”

“Had you ever been whipped before coming here?” Number Two asked.

“No, never.”

“How did you like it the first time?”

Audrey blushed. “It was wonderful. I had an orgasm.”

“Just one?” someone laughed.

Audrey slowly shook her head. She held up two fingers, then three. The room roared with laughter.

“What about sex with all the males?” someone asked.

“I must admit that it was something else I’ve fantasized about,” Audrey replied. “I was a virgin when I married my husband.”

“Is he the only man you’ve ever had sex with?” Number Four asked.

Audrey nodded. “Until I came here.”

“Then you had nine men at once,” Number Four chuckled.

Audrey nodded. “I never in my life thought I would experience anything like that.”

“It was pretty rough,” I said. “Did you have fun?”

Audrey nodded.

“Now I’m not sure,” Number Three said. “But I’d swear that you got screwed up your butt for the first time in that mud pit.”

Audrey covered her face with her hands and nodded.

“Did you enjoy that?” Three persisted.

“Yes,” Audrey’s voice was muffled.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”

“Yes, I did,” Audrey said louder. Everyone applauded.

When she lowered her hands Audrey’s face was bright pink. “You must think I’m a horrible slut.”

“At least you’re not a virgin anymore,” someone else laughed. “Anywhere in your body.”

Audrey blushed again, then giggled.

“Did it hurt?” Number Four asked.

“Yes.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to do it again?”

“Yes.”

More applause.

“Good girl,” someone said. “And compared to the rest of us you’re only a beginning slut. Now on the other hand I happen to be the nastiest slut on the farm.”

“Oh no you’re not,” Number Two said. “I am and I can prove it.”

That led to a debate as to who was the worst slut on the farm. Despite a lot of exaggerated claims, we never resolved who was the best (or worse depending on how you rate your sluts).

“What did you think about Debbie’s branding?” someone asked when the boasting died down.

“My God, that was incredible!” Audrey gasped.

“Turned you on, did it?”

“When I saw that red hot iron touch her body I thought I would have an orgasm,” Audrey said. Everyone looked at Debbie who preened herself proudly.

“Does everyone get branded?” Audrey asked.

“No, only a few,” Number Three replied.

Audrey shook her head. “I never dreamt someone would want that.”

The room went quiet and all eyes turned to me. Audrey looked at me in puzzlement while I stood up and stepped out of my pants. Her eyes widened when I spread my legs and displayed my brand.

“Oh my God!” she whispered in awe.

“Number One was the first pony girl to be branded,” Gloria said. “She even beat me to it.”

Audrey looked at my brand for several minutes.

“It’s a heart with a horseshoe,” she marveled. She reached toward my brand. I hoped beyond hope that she would touch it. Everyone watched. She came close, then stopped. She turned to Debbie.

“Is your brand the same?”

“No, mine is the letter D, see?” she stepped beside me.

“D for Debbie?” Audrey asked.

“No, D for Donna,” Debbie said. “I belong to her now.”

Audrey looked back and forth at our brands. Again she reached out to touch, then pulled back.

“If I don’t control myself I will end up doing something I am forbidden,” she said sadly. “Sorry.”

“Its ok,” I said, pulling my sweat pants up. “I don’t want to see you expelled.” Debbie returned to her seat.

The tension eased and Number Three spoke. “Have they done anything to you that you don’t like?”

“Not a thing,” Audrey replied. “I love it all.”

“Even all the humiliating things they make you do?”

“I like that too,” Audrey said. “The more the better.”

“Well, I’m with you there,” someone said. There were murmurs of agreement.

Suddenly the room went quiet. Mistress Jill walked in and stood looking us over. Some of the women perked up and thrust out their breasts hopefully. She pointed to Linda, one of the ponies off another team, and motioned her to rise. Linda obeyed and blushed when Mistress Jill clicked handcuffs on her wrists. Mistress Jill led her from the stable to the house. Audrey looked around in question.

“Mistress Jill apparently feels the need for some companionship tonight,” Gloria said.

“What will she do to that girl?” Audrey asked.

“Anything she wants,” laughed Number Two.

“Am I perverse for wanting to be degraded?” Audrey asked. “I know it seems to be wrong, yet it’s such a wonderful change from my normal life.”

“Yes you are perverse,” laughed Number Four. “But don’t feel bad, we’re all perverse here.”

The room buzzed in agreement.

“What about lesbian sex?” Number Three asked Audrey. “Did you come here for that too?”

“No, although they told me it would likely happen,” Audrey said.

“Has it?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, who was it?” Gloria asked.

“Mistress Jill, yesterday afternoon,” Audrey said in a tiny voice.

“What happened?” Number Three asked.

I saw that Audrey was embarrassed and tried to signal to the others to drop the subject. Audrey saw me.

“Its all right,” she said to me. “I don’t mind talking about it.”

“Ok then,” Three said. “Lets hear it.”

“Well, Mistress Jill allowed me to rest and when I sat down I fell asleep in the paddock. When I woke up she took me into the equipment barn, tied me in a kneeling position, took off all her clothes and pressed her pussy against my mouth.”

“Ooooh,” someone breathed. “Mistress Jill has a nice pussy.”

“You ought to know,” someone else said.

“Shhh, I want to hear Audrey,” Gloria said.

Audrey took a deep breath. “I opened my mouth, stuck out my tongue and did what I had to do.”

“Did she come?”

“Yes.”

“Atta girl,” Number Four said. “We’re proud of you.” Everyone applauded.

“How did you feel about it?” I asked Audrey quietly.

She looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure yet. I didn’t hate it, but I didn’t enjoy it either. I was just concentrating very hard on pleasing Mistress Jill.”

“That was your first time ever with a woman?” Number Two asked.

“No,” Audrey shook her head. “There was one time in college when my room mate and I got drunk and she crawled between my legs.”

“Did you like that?”

“I honestly don’t remember,” Audrey said. “I was too intoxicated.” 

“Don’t worry,” Gloria smiled. “You’ll remember what happens to you here.”

“I was a bit surprised to see how much lesbian sex goes on here,” Audrey said.

“We aren’t all lesbians,” Gloria said. “But this is definitely a female oriented farm.”

“Yeah, if you don’t learn to kiss pussies you won’t last long here,” Debbie said.

“Why is it only female?” Audrey asked.

“We’ve had masters,” I said. “But there was an incident several years ago that put a stop to any males working here.”

“What happened?”

THE MUTINOUS MASTER

“Mistress Dina had just passed away and Mistress Karen accepted a male to be a master. He was a tough guy who thought he ought to be in charge. He argued with Mistress Karen, disobeyed her orders and generally created havoc.”

“He was very cruel,” Gloria added. “Which is ok for most of us, but he hated gay men and treated the male ponies horribly, even the straight ones. He whipped one male so bad that he had to be hospitalized.”

“Good heavens!”

“Mistress Karen was furious and told him to pack his things and leave.” I continued. “They had a terrible argument and he slapped her.”

“What?”

“Right on the lawn in front of the house, and that was a big mistake.”

“What happened?”

“Every mistress in sight ran to help Mistress Karen,” Gloria said. “They tackled him and there was a terrible fight. He was very strong, but he was no match for four furious women, especially when Mistress Donna showed up.”

“Mistress Donna is that gorgeous redhead, right?” She looked at Debbie. “The one who branded you?” Donna nodded.

“That’s her,” Gloria confirmed. “She came out of the house, took one look at what was going on and charged in. The guy had just managed to get back to his feet when she did one of those flying drop kicks you see in professional wrestling. She knocked him backwards and sent a couple of the mistresses sprawling too, but before he could get back up she was on him like a panther.”

“Mistress Donna is trained in martial arts,” I explained. “He wasn’t the first man she’d beaten up.”

“And she did a real thorough job on him,” Number Two added. “She almost broke his jaw.”

“Anyway, they overpowered him, stripped him naked and tied him up,” Gloria said. “Mistress Karen was just going to have him thrown off the property but he was swearing and threatening her, saying he’d come back and get his revenge, so the mistresses tied him between posts and whipped him.”

“Well, that sounds like what they do to the males anyway,” Audrey said.

“Yeah, except this was for real and that particular male didn’t enjoy it,” I told her. “They whipped him very, very hard.”

“They took turns,” Gloria said. “And they took photos. After whipping him until he was barely conscious they bent him over a sawhorse and every mistress screwed him up the rectum with a strap on dildo. They took pictures of that too.”

“Actually, from a legal point of view, that could be considered rape,” Audrey observed.”  

“It sure could,” I said. “And whipping him against his will was assault and battery.”

“Is that all they did to him?”

“Nope, the final humiliation was to tie him on his knees and make him suck the cocks of our males.”

“Good God! Did he do it?”

“He refused at first, but Mistress Karen whipped him so hard that he was screaming in pain,” I answered. “She broke him.”

“Broke him?”

“Destroyed his will to resist,” I said. “He was sobbing like a child and begging for mercy.”

“Then what happened?”

“Mistress Karen ordered him to suck the cock of all the males but first she made him beg to do it.”

“Did he?”

“He begged,” I said. “And he sucked those cocks too.”

“My God.”

“The males already hated him,” Gloria said. “And they made the most of his punishment.”

“How?”

“They spurted in his mouth or on his face and they urinated on him too.”

“And pictures were taken of that too,” I said.

“Served him right.”

“Mistress Karen doesn’t normally permit that kind of activity,” I said. “Just that one time.”

“What happened after that?”

“Mistress Karen kept him locked up until he could travel, then showed him the pictures. She told him if he ever came back or did anything to annoy her again, copies of the photos would go to his family, his friends and where ever he might be working at the time.”

“And?”

“They escorted him to the edge of the property, gave him his suitcase and sent him on his way. He was last seen walking down the road and we’ve never heard from him again.”

“It may sound like something out of a bondage fiction novel,” Gloria said. “But it really happened.”

“There was nothing the least bit erotic about that incident,” I said. “It was terrible, but he brought it on himself. After that Mistress Karen wouldn’t allow any more male masters here. The only man here who isn’t a slave is Barney, the truck driver.”

“Who is he?”

“He delivers the produce to town and brings in supplies,” Number Four said.

“But he’s not a master, right?”

“No, but he does enjoy certain privileges,” I said.

“I’ll bet I can guess what they are,” Audrey said wryly. “Sex with the slaves, right?”

“Any time, any where, any girl,” Gloria told her. “But he usually contents himself with the princesses.”

“The who?”

“The house ponies,” Four explained. “We call them the princesses because they are treated so well.”

“Barney likes to select one and bend her over the railing on the back porch,” Gloria said. “Its his favorite place.”

“Why is that?”

“Its very public and he likes to have people watch. When he’s finished he usually leaves the slave tied over the railing until somebody comes along and releases her. They don’t complain though, he’s usually their only chance to get screwed by a man.”

       “I saw him screwing a princess while having a conversation with Mary,” Number Four giggled. “They were discussing his delivery schedule and he never missed a beat.”

“He only screws the house ponies, then?”

“Pretty much,” Gloria said. “But he’s sampled all of us at one time or another. He probably hasn’t noticed you yet so don’t be surprised if you find yourself suddenly bent over the porch railing.”

“Or the tailgate of his truck,” Number Three added. “He likes that too.”

“You’ll see lots of him during the logging season and at harvest,” Three told her.

“What is logging season?”

“In the summer after all the plowing is done we cut trees,” Number Four said. “The farm has a lot of forest land and every year we harvest some of the trees. Mistress Karen has a Forest Service Ranger come out and he selects a few hundred trees to be cut and marks them with spray paint. We go out later and cut them down.”

“You do?”

“Actually the males cut the trees and trim off the limbs, then we women drag the logs to the truck.”

“We don’t clear cut the land and Mistress Karen insists that we don’t damage the environment more than necessary,” Gloria said. “So we keep the logging roads to a minimum. But that means we have to haul those tree trunks a long way sometimes.”

“That sounds like hard work,” Audrey commented.

“Its very hard,” Gloria said. “We have to wear thigh boots to protect our legs from the brush and the mistresses cover our bodies with insect repellent.”

“The work can be exhausting,” Number Two said. “Those logs are so heavy that it takes several teams to get them out. We really have to pull hard, and sometimes the dirt is soft and the logs dig into the ground.”

“There are times when they have to hitch us with male teams,” Gloria said.

“And I’ll bet when you get the log to the truck they bend you over it in a row and let the males screw you, right?”

“No, but that’s a terrific idea.” Number Three said. “We’ll have to pass it along to the mistresses.”

“How long does the logging season last?” Audrey asked.

“All summer, until harvest,” I answered.

“I think I’ll have my son bring me back for a week or two.”

“Great.”

“About Barney,” she asked. “Does he live here?”

“No, he lives in town with his wife and kids.”

“Oh.”

“If you prefer to be dominated by men, there are farms run by masters only,” Number Two said. “There’s a pony ranch in Utah run by men. Female slaves only.“

“And a terrific one in Texas,” Number Three interjected.

“Boy, that’s for sure,” Two agreed. “We’ve been there.”

THE TEXAS PONY RANCH

“What makes it so special?” Audrey asked.

“Its run by a family of very dominant men,” Three said. “All of the ponies are women and most are in the family. They’re into the third generation of pony slaves.”

“Incredible!” gasped Audrey.

“The men only marry women who are willing to become ponies and the daughters are raised to be pony girls.”

“What if the daughters don’t want to be pony girls?” Audrey asked.

“They aren’t forced,” I answered. “The girls are sent to college. When they graduate they can choose to return and resume being ponies or to live any other life style they want. Over the years a few have chosen not to become ponies.”

“How did you learn all that?”

“I talked to the lead pony,” I said. “She’s the matriarch of the family and still wears harness. We were hitched to posts and watching her teenaged granddaughters being trained. The girls were working very hard and kept looking to see if their grandmother was watching.”

“Were they naked?” Audrey asked.

“Of course. We all were,” I said. “Including the grandmother.”

“How old is she?”

“She’s in her sixties and she looks terrific,” I said. “She’s still being loaned out to visitors.”

“Oh, come on now,” Audrey said in disbelief.

“Its true,” Number Three said. “That lady is in great demand.”

“At her age?”

My whole team nodded.

“I just hope I look half as good when I’m her age,” Debbie said.

“Are all their pony girls in the family?” Audrey asked.

“No, they have a few outside ponies and they train women for other masters,” Three told her.

“One of their ponies has run in races all over the world and she’s never lost one.” I said. “She’s the daughter of the matriarch and mother of one of the teenaged girls I saw.”

“She’s in her forties and the family still gets offers from people wanting to buy her,” Three said.

“Permanently,” Gloria added.

“People want to buy her permanently?” Audrey asked.

“Every time she competes someone tries to buy her,” Number Three said. “Her husband has auctioned her off for some pretty high prices, but only for temporary periods.”

“Some very wealthy and famous people have offered to buy her permanently,” I said. “But he won’t sell her.”

“Why not?”

“Because he loves her.”

“It’s rumored that that someone once offered over a million dollars for her,” Two said. “But the family turned it down.”

“I’ve heard that the offer is still open,” Debbie said.

“It is,” conformed Gloria. “The offer still stands and they get a call once a month to see if they are ready to accept it.”

“Think what it would be like to have someone offer a million dollars for you,” Number Two mused.

“Yeah,” whispered Number Four.

“She must be incredibly beautiful,” Audrey said.

“Not really, she’s pretty and has a nice body,” Three said. “If you saw her on the street you’d think she was an ordinary housewife with a pretty face and a sweet disposition.”

“Until you see her in harness taking a whipping,” someone interjected.

“Why?” Audrey asked.

“Because she is a fantastic masochist,” I answered. “She goes wild under the whip.”

“That’s for sure,” Number Four said.

“Yeah, she’s incredible,” Two said. “But out of harness she looks like nothing special.”

“What makes her so popular,” Audrey asked.

“She’s a terrific masochist,” I said. “An incorrigible exhibitionist, and she is the fastest racing pony on earth.”

“No,” Audrey said in disbelief. “At her age?”

Everyone nodded solemnly. Audrey’s eyes widened as she realized we were serious. “She sounds like the perfect pony girl.”

“Pretty much,” Three said.

“More than that though, she has charisma,” I added. “You instinctively like her the moment you meet her.”

“There’s something about her that drives men crazy,” Number Four said.

“Not just men,” Gloria said. “That million dollar offer is from a woman.”

“What ever she’s got, if she could bottle it, I’d buy ten gallons,” said Number Two.

“Do you know what a kurbash is?” Gloria asked.

“I’ve no idea,” Audrey replied.

“Its a horrible whip used by Turks and Arabs. It’s made from rhinoceros skin. It can kill people.”

“Oh?”

“The woman we’re talking about was whipped with a kurbash on a safari in Africa. She told us that she screamed so much that she lost her voice for several days.”

“That’s horrible.”

“She doesn’t think so, she constantly pesters her husband to use it on her again,” I said.

“The whip has become a family treasure,” Four said. “They keep it on display in their stable.”

“I’ve seen it,” Number Two said shuddering. “It’s terrifying.”

“Wonderfully terrifying,” Gloria added.

Audrey stared at her. “Have you been whipped with it?”

Gloria nodded.

“I didn’t know that,” I gasped.

“I received just one stroke,” Gloria said. “But it was pure hell.”

“How did that happen?”

“The master of the ranch took a fancy to me and borrowed me for a few hours. He took me into their private stable, tied me over a punishment horse and whipped me half silly with normal whips. Then he screwed me until I was a babbling idiot.”

“He is rather good at doing that to a woman,” I said.

“You should know,” Number Three said.

I smiled cattily.

“He’s also the husband of that middle aged woman we told you about,” I said.

“And his own daughter is a pony girl?”

“Yep.”

“God in Heaven.”

“When he finished screwing me he left me tied to the horse and left. The kurbash was on the wall in front of me and I stared at it for about an hour,” Gloria continued. “I’d heard about it and was afraid of it, but the longer I looked at it the more fascinated I became. When he came back I begged him to whip me with it.”

“Did he?”

“Yes.”

“Where did he hit you?”

“Around my ribs and across my breasts,” Gloria said. “He strung me up by my wrists then took the kurbash down and put on an impressive display of spinning it around me, cracking it close to my skin without touching me and then whirling it over his head until it made a deep terrible droning sound.”

“We heard that sound from a hundred yards away,” I said. “I didn’t know what it was but it scared me.”

The rest of the team nodded.

“I became so frightened that told him I’d changed my mind and begged him not to hit me with the kurbash,” Gloria said. “But he didn’t listen. He kept that horrid thing droning louder and louder until it sounded like a swarm of hornets from hell. I was screaming in terror and fighting my ropes.”

“My God,” whispered Audrey.

“Then the kurbash struck me,” Gloria said. She lifted her arm and touched her ribs. “It got me here, wrapped around my back and crashed across both my nipples so hard that I fainted.”

“It hit you only once?” I asked.

Gloria nodded.

“Did you have an orgasm?” Audrey asked.

“I don’t know,” Gloria said. “I was unconscious. But I had an orgasm later just from thinking about it.”

“What?”

“He left me hanging all afternoon. When I woke up the pain was so bad that I thought I’d been burned. The whip was draped around my neck. It was heavy and felt like a python on my shoulders. I began to imagine that it was moving like a snake. I hung there remembering the feel of that whip and I got so excited that I had a teensy delicious little orgasm.”

“Just from a memory?”

Gloria nodded.

“So they only have pony girls?” Audrey asked after a long silence. “No males on that farm?”

“Right, the only pony boys are visitors.”

“The ranch is enormous,” Two said. “You can run for miles and miles and their stables can hold hundreds of ponies. But the ponies don’t work outdoors like we do.”

“Why not?”

“There isn’t enough privacy,” Three said. “The country is flat with very few trees and people driving by would notice naked women working the fields.”

“And all the ranches have private airstrips,” Four added. “Airplanes fly over all day long.”

“Why did you go there?” Audrey asked.

“We go there for pony shows,” Three answered. “We’ve won first or second place every year.” She proudly pointed to the blue and red ribbons displayed over my stall.

“Oh,” Audrey said. “I’m impressed.”

“They put the ribbons over Number One’s stall because she’s the lead,” Number Two said. “The big trophies are kept in a display case in the house.” 

“What do you do to win trophies?” Audrey asked.

“The rest of us get them for being excellent ponies,” Two said. “ But Number One gets awards for eating pussies.”

“And sucking cocks,” added Number Three.

“And getting screwed,” said Number Four.

I stuck my tongue out at them.

“That place sounds interesting but I prefer to stay here,” Audrey said. “So I suppose I’d better get used to kissing pussies. Pretty soon too it sounds like.”

“Why?”

“I heard a mistress say that I am going to double crossed with another slave,” she said. “And I’m curious, what exactly does that mean?”

The room went dead silent and every eye turned to me. For the first time since I became a pony girl, I blushed.  

Note: Shackleford Bond is the pen name for Mary Elizabeth Moore, a fifty five year old grandmother living in Denver, Colorado.

DOUBLE CROSSED    

Double crossing happened sooner than I expected.

It rained again the next day so we were taken into the show barn to be exercised. When we got inside Mistress Eve led me aside, chained me to a hitching post, then she took the rest of my team away, hooked them to a surrey and drove around the track. I wondered why I wasn’t with them. Oh well, a pony must be patient, so I waited and watched the activity in the barn.

The show barn was built a few years ago as an indoor exercise facility as well as for hosting shows, pony fairs and rodeos. It’s a huge building with a center arena surrounded by a racetrack and spectator seating. There are stalls for visiting ponies and the place is big enough to hold literally dozens of teams and scores of spectators. We exercise there when the weather is bad.

The mistresses were putting their teams through various exercises. Some were jogging around the outer track, some doing dressage, others were trotting the steeplechase course.

Mistress Eve was walking my team around the track. Mistress Jill’s team over took them at a trot but she slowed them, matched pace and the mistresses chatted as they lounged in their sulkies.

Mistress Stephanie was working a male team at a dead weight drag in the sand pit.

They were dragging a thousand pounds and they were struggling. They planted their feet carefully as they leaned into their traces. The weight barely moved an inch at a time. Mistress Stephanie would draw a line in the sand and encourage the males to get across it, and when they did she’d bend over and draw another. I giggled at the way the males huffed and puffed and strained yet never took their eyes off her chest.

I enjoyed watching their muscles as they strained. Their thigh muscles bulged, the veins in their necks stood out and their faces were red with effort.

Mistress Stephanie had them in strict harness, high stiff collars that forced their heads up, heavy belly bands and their arms were folded across their backs and strapped very tightly in place.  

She had buckled their penises into leather tubes. The tubes were pulled flat against their stomachs giving her easy access to their balls, which were exposed and unprotected. She encouraged their efforts with a horsehair whisk. The light whisk doesn’t inflict serious pain but it stings like fire, especially on a man’s balls. Most mistresses don’t use heavy whips on pony boys’ balls for fear of permanent damage.

Its fantastic watching a woman whip a man’s genitals. A cruel woman can have him screaming his heart out within minutes, but pony boys have been permanently injured that way. A male can be ruined if a whip gets him hard enough in the wrong place. The horsehair whip won’t injure them but it stings like pure hell. It has the same effect on a woman’s breasts too.

Mistress Stephanie motivated them by alternating between smacking their balls with the whisk and caressing them with the tips of her fingers. Occasionally she grasped a pair of balls and squeezed hard. That always seemed to work.

She wore a pair of shorts and an old tee shirt which had been stretched out of shape. Her neckline was open and the males peeked eagerly.

She wasn’t wearing a bra and her nipples were visible under the threadbare cotton. She also pretended to be hot and occasionally wiped her face with the bottom of the shirt, raising it just enough for a glimpse of her boobs. She was enjoying herself immensely.

She’d kicked off her shoes and walked barefoot in the sand. Often she’d step close to the slaves and rub her foot against their ankles. For some reason that seemed to drive them wild

Each time the males dragged the weight across one of the lines she would reward them with a momentary caress of their balls. After a particularly strong burst of effort they dragged the weight several feet. Mistress Stephanie laughed and rewarded them each by toying with their balls longer than usual. And one of them came.

The male stiffened, threw his head back and groaned loudly through his bit. Mistress Stephanie looked at the semen on her hand, then patted the male gently on the face. She stepped back a few yards, spread her feet and motioned the team to come to her. I couldn’t hear what she said but I think she offered to make the rest of them come if they could get that weight to her. They threw themselves against the traces and churned the sand with their feet. The pony boy who’d just come staggered and gasped and tried to recover but he just wasn’t able to work for a few minutes. He leaned into the harness and tried, but his legs were too shaky.

Mistress Stephanie pretended to lick the cum off her hand. They groaned louder and pulled so hard that I thought they might burst their hearts. She began a count down, ticking the seconds with her fingers. The boys couldn’t made their goal so she shrugged insincerely, bent and scrubbed the slave’s semen off her hand in the sand. Then she sat cross legged on the ground.

The males collapsed in exhaustion. She let them catch their breath and gave them a drink of water. Then she poured water onto her chest and her tee shirt became transparent. She walked a few yards back, shook her boobs lightly and the males fought their way to their feet. She crooked her little finger and they hurled themselves against the weight. 

Males are so easy to control.

I waited and listened to the noise of cracking whips, shouted commands, and the muffled hum that comes from several dozen people being active. Even Mistress Karen was there.

I saw her walk through the door and my heart leapt. She wore an old sweatshirt, a pair of cut off jeans and a pair of cowboy boots. She looked adorable. She walked past me, tweaked my nipple without speaking, but gave me a little smile and went on her way. I wriggled happily. Moment later a mistress led Audrey to me and chained her to the same post. My heart began to pound.

Audrey looked around at all the things that were happening in the barn.

“What is going on?” she asked, trying not to move her lips.

“Shhh,” I warned.

My eyes were on the door to the equipment room, and sure enough, two mistresses came out rolling a portable X cross. My pussy flashed white hot and I gasped. Audrey looked at me curiously, and then looked at the cross.

“What in the world?” she asked.

“That is the double cross,” I told her. “My dreams have come true.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“They’re going to tie us to that cross,” I told her. “With our mouths on each other’s pussy.”

Her mouth dropped open.

“I’ve wanted to eat your pussy since the first time I saw you in harness,” I told her. I didn’t even try to speak quietly.

Audrey blushed, looked at the floor shyly, and then looked me right in the eye. “I’ve heard that you are very good at that. I’ll see if I can return the favor.”    

I closed my eyes and trembled with delight.

“Hey, you two, stop talking,” one of the mistresses said. “You’ll have enough to do with your mouths as it is.”

I bowed my head submissively, but winked at Audrey.

The mistresses set the cross in place, attached the support cables so it wouldn’t tip over and plugged in the electric motor. They tested the motor by rotating the cross a full turn, then came and got me. My nipples felt like they were going to burst as I walked to the cross, and I couldn’t prevent a happy gasp from escaping my lips as I placed my hands and feet in position. The mistresses buckled wide leather bands around my wrists and arms, ankles and thighs and my waist. They turned the motor on and spun me slowly a half turn and stopped with my head pointed toward the floor. Then they strapped Audrey against me.

Her body felt so soft and warm against mine and I couldn’t resist a tiny kiss on her pussy. As soon as Audrey was strapped in place they turned on the motor and we began to slowly rotate. We were in for a long day and there was no need to rush. I tried to be patient and only nibble softly at Audrey’s pussy but my self restraint went right out the window and I buried my tongue as deep as I could inside her. Within moments I felt her stiffen, heard a gasp grow into a groan and knew that she had had her first orgasm of the day.

I pulled my face back and let her recover. I felt her warm breath on my pussy and heard her speak.

“That was very nice, but I didn’t feel anything like fainting.”

“Don’t worry,” I told her. “I was just warming you up.”

“Ah, I see,” she said. “Well, now it’s my turn.”

I felt her tongue touch my clitoris and I thought that I must be in heaven.

The mistresses watched for a while, which heightened the thrill as far as I was concerned. I enjoyed making eye contact with them as I licked Audrey’s delicious pussy. One of them seemed to be breathing rather quickly and her face was pink. I winked at her and she suddenly grabbed the other mistress by the wrist and dragged her away. I didn’t see them for a couple of hours.

They kept us on the cross all morning. We rotated slowly feeling our weight shift and the straps tighten, loosen, and then tighten again. I liked thee feel of my breasts shifting up and down and I felt Audrey’s breasts doing the same thing against my body.

You can’t eat a pussy constantly, if nothing else, your jaws get tired, but we tried. I lost count of my orgasms and so did Audrey. Sometimes we rode the cross licking and kissing softly and delicately and other times we were taken by fierce passion and buried our faces in each other pussy. I growled and nipped and thrust deeply with my tongue and felt Audrey press her face in my pussy and shake it from side to side. Somehow I could tell when it was her tongue against my clit and other times I knew it was the tip of her nose.

I am convinced that double crossing is the most erotic form of bondage imaginable. The mistresses say that it can turn straight women into lesbians, and I believe it.

A couple of legends are part of pony folklore.

Many years ago, as the first legend goes, we had two separate couples on a weekend visit. The wives were being trained as ponies by their husbands. The husbands struck up a conversation and decided to team up their wives. They hooked them to a cart and drove up to the hills for a picnic. After lunch they staked the women to the ground and made love. Inevitably they traded places and screwed each other’s wife. The women apparently accepted this without protest.

After the picnic the husbands brought them back to the barnyard and explored other ways to humiliate them. At first the husbands used normal methods of simple public bondage in the barnyard. After everyone got a good look they tied their women over punishment horses and spanked them, then they invited other masters and mistresses to spank them as well. The farm had a lot of visitors that day so the ladies got spanked until their bottoms were on fire. After that the husbands tied their wives on their knees and offered their mouths to passing men. It turned out that both husbands enjoyed watching their wives submit to strangers. The wives were exhibitionists and enjoyed being watched

After watching their wives suck literally dozens of cocks the husbands offered them to women. The wives were entirely straight (so the legend goes) and tried to draw the line at that point. The husbands ignored their protests and tried to force their wives to obey. The wives refused and it became a contest of wills with a lot of people watching. The husbands whipped them and still they refused. A farm mistress suggested that the men double cross their wives, and they did.

The women actually tried to resist being strapped onto the cross but the husbands flogged them to submission, then tied them to the cross and turned it on. Then they just sat back, drank beer, and watched. So did a lot of other people. The rebellion had attracted a lot of attention and everyone wanted to see whether the women would hold out or not. Chairs were brought out and everyone waited. Everything on the farm seemed to come to a stop as people watched the women turning on their cross.

The women resisted for a long time but finally one gave in.

Supposedly, one wife was excited by all the people watching her, so she was the first to lick the other’s pussy.

In another version one of them wanted to just it over with so she began licking the pussy at her face.

A third variation has one wife being curious about lesbian sex so she tentatively kissed the other’s pussy to see what it was like.

And yet another variation, the one most favored, says that both women were overcome by the raw eroticism and couldn’t resist.

Take your pick.

Whatever the reason, the other women responded hesitantly at first, then they both got excited and were soon licking and kissing and thrusting their tongues as deeply as they could. Their audience applauded, and to everyone’s delight they had orgasms.

Their husbands separated them and invited other masters to bring their slaves forward. Another cross was set up and the wives were paired with other women. By the end of the day (according to legend), they had eaten the pussies of practically every woman on the farm. 

By the end of the weekend they had become confirmed lesbians.

One version of the story says that the wives became lovers and left their husbands. Another is that the women quit their jobs, moved to Las Vegas (or New Orleans or San Francisco, where ever), and took jobs in a lesbian bordello. The most popular ending has the couples becoming great friends and getting together every weekend for bondage and wife swapping. And the men indulge their wives newfound lesbian delights by tying them together, and they all lived happily ever after.

Take your pick.

It sounds too good to be true, but so does a lot of things that happen here.

I’ve heard that story for years but I’ve never met a mistress who can confirm it. They’ve heard it from someone else.

Another legend about double crossing is where a woman agreed to submit to punishment to make up for being unfaithful to her husband. (I know, I know, that’s a tired old theme in bdsm literature, but in this case its true.) The husband caught his wife cheating and offered her a choice of divorce or torture. She agreed to torture. He brought her to the farm and spent a week humiliating her. She wasn’t a masochist and did not like the things he did to her, nevertheless, she endured her torments without complaint.

She attracted a lot of attention because we had never had a reluctant slave on the farm. Mistress Karen interviewed them, then made the husband step outside while she talked to the woman alone. Mistress Karen tried to talk the woman out of doing something that she did not truly want to do. When the wife, whose name is Bonnie, insisted that she was determined to see the thing through Mistress Karen told her in great detail what kind of pain and humiliation she would undergo. Bonnie couldn’t be shaken, so finally Mistress Karen shrugged and handed her over to her husband.

He did everything he could to humiliate her. He paraded her naked, made her crawl on her hands and knees, tied her in public bondage, spanked her, whipped her and screwed her in front of people. She was forced to sleep in a kennel and eat out of a dog dish without using her hands. He went so far as to urinate on her but Mistress Karen put a stop to that. She threatened to send him away if he did it again.

He didn’t want to see his wife being screwed by other men, or sucking their cocks but he did make her perform lesbian sex in public. He hoped it would humiliate her, and it did. But he didn’t expect her to become a lesbian as a result.

I know this happened because I was her first woman.

Mistress Karen suggested that he use me because of my skill with my tongue. I was flattered and excited but I must confess that I was turned on being with a straight woman. I ought to have been sympathetic to Bonnie, after all, she wasn’t truly a willing slave, but for some perverse reason I wanted to see her suffer. Not because she had cheated on her husband but I wanted to see if a normal, decent person would embrace the things that I liked. She became an experiment.

I decided to see if I could seduce her into wanting to eat my pussy. It’s easy to make a straight woman have an orgasm, any woman will respond to a talented tongue between her legs, especially if she tied and helpless. And many women will eat a pussy when they are forced, but I wanted her to beg for my pussy.

When they strapped us to the cross they locked our heads down so that our faces were buried in each other’s crotch. I couldn’t raise my mouth more than an inch from her pussy.

Bonnie groaned in shame when they pressed her face against my lips.

She was embarrassed and angry and she resisted. Her body was rigid, every muscle was tense, so I used every trick I knew. I started lightly and slowly, just teasing her with the tip of my tongue. I kissed and nibbled lightly and blew softly against her lips and felt her muscles relax slightly. I kept it up, pausing at times, waiting for her to respond. I was patient and just allowed the tip of my tongue to dance across her clitoris. She relaxed a little more and after a long time her hips moved ever so slightly. I stopped and waited several minutes. My patience paid off because her hips moved again. I wiggled mine and heard her groan faintly. I resumed teasing her with my tongue until her hips were moving again. I stopped ad her hips wiggled instantly, demandingly. I chuckled and waited. We played a waiting game but again her hips wiggled hopefully. I gave her sudden deep kiss and sucked the lips of her pussy into my mouth. She gasped and couldn’t control herself. She began pushing her pussy to meet my tongue, and when I didn’t respond she thrust more insistently. I wiggled my hips inviting her tongue. Her body tensed again. I heard a whimper, then felt her take a deep breath. It was as if I was reading her mind. I knew that she was determined not to give in. I teased her for a minute then stopped. She held still but I knew it took all her will power to remain motionless. I wriggled invitingly but she didn’t move. I felt her take a deep breath and relax. I sensed that she was going to try to wait me out.

I drifted into a very erotic daydream. I imagined that I had been designated to convert dozens of ordinary women into lesbians. (Don’t ask me why.) I was kept in a dark mysterious room hung with deep red curtains. I was permanently strapped to the cross and it rotated slowly as I waited. The curtains parted and a naked woman was brought in wearing chains. The woman’s husband sat in a large chair and watched silently as her body was strapped to mine. Then I used my tongue and my talents to turn his wife into a lesbian. No matter how hard the victim resisted I always won. Once the woman’s resistance was broken she was made to eat my pussy until I had an orgasm, then she was taken away and another brought in. Outside was a long line of naked women waiting their turns.

I slipped into a light doze, and unconsciously kissed Bonnie’s pussy. Her body jerked and I came back to reality. 

I heard her groan faintly so I kissed her pussy again, very lightly. She didn’t respond so a few minutes later I kissed her again. She held out for a while, then I felt her tongue, warm and delicate touch my clitoris. I touched hers instantly and her tongue went away. I stopped, Bonnie waited, then I heard her sigh in resignation. Her tongue came back.

Bonnie’s husband and Mistress Karen were watching and he was filming with a video camera. He laughed triumphantly when he saw her tongue in my pussy and stopped the cross with her head upwards.

“Don’t do a thing for her until she satisfies you,” he said to me.

“And Number One, don’t feel sorry for her and fake an orgasm,” Mistress Karen warned me. “Make her do it right.”

“Yes my lady,” was my muffled reply.

Bonnie’s body sagged in the ropes and I knew that her resistance had crumbled. She thrust her tongue into my pussy and moved it round and round. Bonnie wanted to get things over as quickly as possible and she wasn’t very skilled so I had to coach her. I whispered instructions to her. It took almost an hour but I trained her in the proper way to lick a woman to orgasm. She listened, obeyed and took me to heaven. 

Her husband let out a whoop when he saw me having an orgasm on his wife’s tongue. 

She sobbed when I came and I didn’t care if she wept in shame or passion. I was very proud of myself.

I’d been hanging upside down for a long time and was getting dizzy. Mistress Karen turned the cross back on. I lay relaxed in the straps for a few revolutions, then returned the favor to Bonnie. It didn’t take me long to send her into a thrashing, moaning orgasm. Her moans were partly from shame but from the way her body moved I knew that her orgasm was real.

Her husband was going to take us off the cross but I shook my head at Mistress Karen and she talked him into leaving us for a couple of more hours. We had attracted an audience and several slave girls asked their masters or mistresses if they could ride the cross. Mistress Karen had the staff bring out more crosses and they were quickly occupied. The day turned into an orgy of double crossed women, some had to wait until late that night for a turn, but Bonnie and I stayed where we were for hours. 

Bonnie’s husband watched like a hawk, reveling in her humiliation. He didn’t take his eyes off us for a second. I began to dislike him and decided o be nice to her. I made Bonnie come twice more and she managed to please me too. I detected a marked improvement in her technique and sensed genuine enthusiasm.

When they took us off the cross I knelt at Mistress Karen’s feet. After a moment Bonnie realized that she should do the same. I kissed Mistress Karen’s feet, then sat on my heels and looked up at her adoringly. Bonnie imitated my movements. I lowered my eyes to Mistress Karen’s crotch and stared at it meaningfully.

“Haven’t you had enough for one day?” Mistress Karen asked me gently.

“Never, My Lady, “I answered.

She smiled and placed her finger on my lips. “Do you still have enough energy to please me?”

I wiggled delightedly, like a puppy.

She looked at Bonnie. “What about you?”

Bonnie blushed and lowered her eyes, but then she nodded very faintly.

“All right,” Mistress Karen chuckled. “We’ll see how well you hold up for the rest of the day. If you do well enough I might permit you to spend the night in my room.”

Bonnie’s husband wasn’t a part of that conversation. He stood to the side slightly bewildered. He didn’t realize that Mistress Karen had just taken control of his wife.

Mistress Karen bent and kissed Bonnie on the mouth, then motioned for him to go on with what he was doing. She clipped a leash to my collar and led me into the house.

In her apartment she strapped me over a footstool, undressed and lowered herself onto my face.

“I must get back to the guests,” she told me. “So make it quick.”

I did my best and she sat on my mouth for twenty minutes until she allowed herself to come. Then she strapped a vibrator up my pussy and let it drive me insane while she took a quick shower

After we left Bonnie’s husband crossed her with another female slave and kept them on the cross all afternoon. After dinner Mistress Karen took her to her apartment and did the same thing she’d done to me, only she gave Bonnie much more time. Bonnie was a quick learner and she made Mistress Karen quite happy.

He husband fumed because he hadn’t been allowed to watch so Mistress Karen took her to the staff quarters and gave her to a room full of lesbian mistresses. She permitted the husband to sit in a corner and watch as Bonnie spent a long evening kneeling between the legs of a lot of women. It turned into a party, with mistresses wandering in and out, sipping wine, visiting, and having Bonnie eat their pussies. Some came back for seconds and a few were in their pajamas. It was after midnight before Bonnie was allowed to stop. She was so exhausted that her husband had to carry her to her kennel.  

We don’t know when Bonnie crossed the line but she decided to conceal it from her husband. He tied her to women every day for the remainder of their stay and she put on a great act pretending to dislike it. He never realized that she was secretly enjoying herself.   

At the end of the week he took her home, but a few months later she showed up by herself. She asked to be enslaved by a women and Mistress Karen was kind enough to train Bonnie herself. Later Mistress Karen commented later that Bonnie must have been practicing because she was now very good with her tongue.

Bonnie comes to the farm about once a month. She doesn’t wear harness, she doesn’t care to be trained as a pony, she isn’t a masochist and she doesn’t like pain. She wants only lesbian sex, preferably with a domineering woman. Sometimes she’s given to sadistic mistresses and has to endure being spanked or whipped. She doesn’t mind so long as she can be forced to eat the lady’s pussy. (Personally, I think she’s becoming a masochist.)

Sometimes she asks for me, and since I’m not domineering we either get double-crossed or tied face up, face down, to a bed. She’s ok with that and so am I.

Bonnie originally came only for day visits, but one time, as she was leaving Mistress Karen invited her to stay and watch a slave auction. Bonnie wasn’t interested until Mistress Karen added that it was ‘Ladies Night’ and all the bidders would all be women. Bonnie decided to stay.

There was a large crowd of guests and we were all put up for sale. Some guests brought their personal slaves and sold them too. Bonnie sat quietly in the back of the room and watched as they guests looked us over before the auction. We were poked and prodded and squeezed and caressed and she got excited watching that happen. She really got hot when the bidding began. She decided she wanted to play so she undressed in the hallway and Mistress Karen slipped her into the bidding. Bonnie had never enjoyed being looked at but she discovered a deep thrill when they led her on stage. She was purchased by a fat woman who tied her to the bed and sat on her face all night. Bonnie was almost smothered but loved every minute.

Since then Mistress Karen keeps Bonnie informed when we are going to hold an auction and she rarely misses one. (Personally I think she’s becoming an exhibitionist.)

Bonnie’s husband has never come back and we don’t know if they are still married or not. She won’t talk about it.

I told Mistress Karen about my fantasy of the darkened room and she liked the idea. She had an area in the barn closed off and lined with heavy velvet curtains. She added some red lamps and the chair. The whole effect was erotic and mysterious and she put me with another female to test it. The room is dark and quiet and we both loved the deep sense of privacy. Mistress Karen tested the room with several guests and the response was terrific. After the terrific success of the test Mistress Karen had a permanent room built in the basement of the main house. She gave a great deal of thought to the lighting and installed low light lamps, a background flood that silhouettes the cross, and some carefully aimed spotlights that illuminate the bodies of the women without revealing their faces. She eliminated the chair but added a viewing gallery along three sides of the room. The gallery has small windows that permit people to watch from outside. The viewing gallery is dark and the women on the cross can’t see who might be watching them. The room is soundproofed too so the women on the cross have nothing to distract them from each other.

After seeing the room some dominant women have asked to be strapped to the cross with their slaves. Most demand absolute privacy with the viewing gallery empty, but some have permitted people to watch, so long as the lights are kept low. 

Mistress Karen thought up a terrific game for the room. She invites visiting ladies to the basement while their husbands remain upstairs. A short time later the men are brought down and seated in the observation gallery. The lights come up just enough to reveal a woman strapped to the cross. Sometimes there are two women, but either way, the lights are too dim to permit them to be recognized. The men are never sure who the women on the cross might be. After half an hour the room is darkened and new women are put on the cross.

Of course not all female guests are willing to ride the cross. Some of those ladies are very strong willed and haven’t an ounce of submissiveness, but some dominas can’t resist the opportunity to tease their husbands.

And of course, men have ridden the cross too.

Rumors instantly sprang up that straight women have begged to be double crossed, that mistresses have done so, that Mary, our dowdy accountant his been on display and even Mistress Karen has taken advantage of the anonymity to enjoy a change of pace.

Take your pick.

                               

While Audrey and I turned on our cross many people stopped and watched. Mary came by and took pictures. I smiled at the camera from between Audrey’s legs.

One pony girl earned herself a severe flogging by asking her mistress to be double-crossed. It wasn’t bad enough that she spoke without permission, but she kept begging after being ordered to shut up. Her mistress unhitched her from the rest of her team, strung her up by her wrists and whipped her until her body was criss crossed with thin welts from ankle to shoulders. We couldn’t see her but her shrieks and whimpers drove us to higher passion. I don’t know where she was struck, but at one point she let out long a piercing scream that echoed off the rafters. That scream sent Audrey into a frenzy and she accidentally bit me. I squealed and Audrey froze.

“Oh God,” She whispered. “I am so sorry.”

“Do it again,” I said.

“What?”

“Do it again,” I insisted. “Bite my pussy.”

“But . .”

I bit her pussy. Oh it wasn’t hard, just enough to make her scream in surprise. Then I chewed softly on the insides of her thighs.

“Bite my pussy,” I warned her. “Or I’ll bite you hard.”

I felt her teeth close on my lower lips, then gently press down. God that was nice!

“Harder,” I said. The pressure of her teeth increased.

“More!”

Her teeth bit me painfully, then they released. I gasped indignantly but before I could say anything they nipped in a quick sharp bite. Boy did I come!

“You know, some women have all the luck,” I heard a voice say.

I opened my eyes and there was my team. Mistress Karen held their reins. 

Mistress Karen handed the reins to Mistress Eve and came to our cross. She paused the motor when my face was upright. She grabbed my hair and lifted my face off Audrey’s pussy and looked at me in concern. I opened my eyes, smiled happily at her then rubbed my cheek in Audrey’s crotch. Mistress Karen shook her head and turned the motor back on. Then she turned to the team.

“One of you spoke without permission,” she said. “Who was it?”

They hesitated, then Number Two bobbed her chin.

“I don’t know how long I’m going to put up with the lot of you,” Mistress Karen said. “First you stampede through the barnyard and now you’re speaking without permission.”

They lowered their eyes humbly.

“Just because you’re the best team I own doesn’t mean that I won’t sell you to a whorehouse in Tijuana.”

Number Three jiggled her breasts about a millimeter but Mistress Karen saw it. “Would you like that?” she demanded. “Answer me.”

“Well actually my lady I’ve been there and done that,” Three said.

“That’s true Mistress Karen,” Four said helpfully. “She brought us souvenir tee shirts to prove it.”

“Yes ma am, we have them in our stalls if you’d like to see them,” Two added.

Mistress Karen stared at them in pure astonishment. She opened her mouth but paused when she saw that Mistress Eve was trying hard not to laugh. Mistress Eve’s face was beet red, her eyes were scrunched shut, her lips clamped and she was trembling. Mistress Karen turned away, not trusting herself to speak. After a moment, she took a very deep breath, motioned Mistress Eve close and whispered something to her. Mistress Eve still couldn’t speak but she nodded. Mistress Karen walked stiffly away.

Mistress Eve took a long deep breath, rubbed her face, then turned to the team and smiled so sweetly that I knew that they were really, really in for it. She led them away.

The mistresses checked on us from time to time and asked if we needed a break. We didn’t want to stop, but I was grateful when they stopped the cross long enough to give us long drinks of water through straws. We learned years ago that a woman’s lips (upper and lower) could get chapped from hours of eating and being eaten, and its essential to be properly hydrated. It also prevents muscle cramps.

At times I looked out between Audrey’s legs and watched what was going on around us. We attracted a lot of attention and the other ponies watched us out of the corners of their eyes. Naturally the males were especially interested and some of the mistresses allowed their pony boys to watch us on their breaks. Even in strict genital restraint their cocks were stiff and they squirmed as they watched. I love teasing men so I locked eyes with one of them while rolling my tongue sensuously in Audrey’s pussy.

I was so successful that he came, even with his cock strapped tightly to his belly. His eyes seemed to cross, his legs started shaking and I giggled when I noticed cum seeping out of his restraint tube. His mistress looked at him and he tried to pretend nothing was going on. Unfortunately he couldn’t control the tremors in his legs and she gasped indignantly when she realized what was happening. She marched him to a fence, bent him over it and used her riding crop on his bottom until he was shrieking in pain. I’d never heard of a male being able to ejaculate with his penis so tightly bound so I was quite pleased with myself.

 

At noon the mistresses took us down for a potty break and lunch. Audrey and I sat cross-legged on the floor and devoured our lunch, and the mistresses made us drink lots of fluids. Then another trip to the restroom, and we were strapped to the cross again. Audrey was shaking with excitement as they buckled us in place.

Try as I might I was unable to make Audrey faint. She told me that she had many wonderful orgasms and often felt light headed from them but thought that the motion of the cross prevented her from slipping into unconsciousness. In fact, she experienced so many orgasms that she was afraid she had burnt out her pussy. (We tested it the next day and it was ok.) 

They took us down at four o’clock. Neither of us could stand and we collapsed to the floor. The mistresses left us there while they put the cross away. Mistress Karen came back and stood over us. I looked up at her, struggled to my knees and bowed until my forehead touched the floor. Audrey did the same. She patted us on the head and left.

Mistress Eve fetched us from the show barn and took us back to the stable.

When we got there my team was stretched very tightly on X crosses. They were wearing chastity belts.

Chastity belts are, by their nature, intended to keep a woman from enjoying sex. But the ones my girls wore are special. They keep a woman excited but don’t allow her to climax.

The belts are simple enough. A waist belt holds a very rigid metal crotch piece in place. The crotch is perforated so the woman can pee through it, but nothing can penetrate her pussy or even touch it. Mistress Karen had ordered that the belts be very tight. That’s not too bad either, because a slave girl might enjoy the firm grip between her legs. But these belts do more than grip, they vibrate.

The front of the crotch piece has a small vibrating motor connected to a hard rubber disk. The disk presses against the woman’s tummy just above her pussy and it sends its vibrations through her pelvis by bone conduction. The buzzing is very stimulating but frustrating. The pad doesn’t touch her clitoris and there’s no dildo up her pussy, so it won’t allow her to come. It just keeps her excited. The batteries last for hours and the motor has a random timer to keep her from getting used to it. The gentle, insistent vibrations can slowly drive a woman insane. Give me a whipping any day.

The girls had been on their crosses for a couple of hours and they already wore the glassy eyed expressions of women who were steadily going out of their minds.

Mistress Eve gave Audrey and me a long sensuous wash followed by a wonderful massage. She rubbed body oil into our skin and took care to rub lotion into our chapped and tender pussies for a long, long time. It was heavenly.

Mistress Eve kept the team on the crosses until lights out, then she took their belts off long enough for them to go to the bathroom and wash themselves. Then the belts went back on. They wore them for three days.

TRAINING AUDREY TO THE PLOW

The next morning we were being placed in field harness when Mistress Jill brought Audrey to us. She told Mistress Eve that she was to train Audrey to pull with a team. Since its unwieldy to work five ponies at a time they unhooked Number Four and took her off somewhere else. Audrey was hooked in her place.

Two and Three still wore their chastity belts. They hadn’t gotten very much sleep and were drowsy. From time to time a look of resignation came over their faces when the vibrators came on. The buzzing was audible from several feet away. The chastity belts never seemed to get them terribly excited but they just never allowed them to relax either. They seemed quite distracted.

Mistress Eve was unsympathetic. She harnessed us to a heavy wagon and walked us out to the fields. The wagon wasn’t necessary, it was just a way to train Audrey.

When we got to the field Mistress Eve unhooked the wagon and hitched us to the plow. The ground was still damp so the plow cut through easily, but it wasn’t so muddy that we had trouble walking.

I couldn’t look back but I could feel the difference in having a new pony girl on the team. Audrey tried hard but her rhythm was off just enough to distract us. We worked slowly but steadily through the morning and Mistress Eve was patient with Audrey. She began to get the hang of things and was soon in sync with the rest of us. After the morning break Mistress Eve moved Audrey to the number three position, and after lunch put her beside me in Number Two’s place. We didn’t speak but I managed a quick wink, even so I caught half a dozen stinging blows across my chest from Mistress Eve’s whip. Audrey was growing more daring because she waited until Mistress Eve finished with me, then deliberately winked and took a full dozen her self. She stood straight and still and thrust out her breasts to receive the whip. Two and Three stood like statues. They weren’t ready to risk any more punishment for a while.

After the last stroke Audrey shook her upper body in a motion that meant that she was happy. She was learning to communicate as a pony girl. Mistress Eve chuckled and set us to work.

I watched Audrey from the corner of my eye. She walked straight and proud, with her shoulders back and her chin high. She kept her eyes forward and didn’t look at me for a second, but she matched my steps and rhythm perfectly. She was lovely.

Mistress Eve is considerate and conscientious and as our pussies were still tender she carefully massaged skin cream into them on every break. And we enjoyed orgasms on every break. By mid morning we were getting shaky on our legs so Mistress Eve eased off on our orgasms. I honestly didn’t mind.

Two and Three were distracted by their buzzing chastity belts, and weren’t the least bit jealous about the attention we received. Between their preoccupation and our unsteadiness our rows weren’t very straight that day. 

At the end of the day Mistress Eve spoke quietly to me.

“Looks like your double cross playmate is turning out to be a damn good pony. Would you like to have her on your team?”

I was in a quandary. “Yes, mistress. I would, except. .”

“Except what?”

“Number Four is a member of the team and it wouldn’t be fair if I replaced her.”

“Not even with a woman who has the sweetest pussy you’ve ever eaten?” she teased.

I shook my head. As much as I adored Audrey, being a lead pony has responsibilities, and I just couldn’t abandon one of my girls.

“Good girl,” Mistress Eve said pinching my nipple gently. “I’m proud of you.” She started to walk away.

“Mistress Eve,” I called softly.

“Yes?”

“How do you know her pussy is so sweet?”

“I tasted it for myself,” she said winking at Audrey.

My mouth dropped open. I turned to Audrey who blew a kiss to Mistress Eve then shook her breasts at me.

BIG BOY

That evening we were treated to a performance by male ponies. A week earlier a lady had dropped off a male for training. He was young and handsome but rather boyish and we nicknamed him Timmy. He loved being a slave and walked around with a perpetual erection and a big grin on his face, even when he was being punished.

Occasionally we saw him being worked with the permanent male teams. He worked hard and seemed to enjoy the life. True to standard male training the mistresses kept him aroused but didn’t permit him any release. His cock was hard all the time, even in a restraint cage. He was so cute that the mistresses couldn’t resist him and he got bent over a number of knees and spanked. Oddly enough, the mistresses preferred spanking him to whipping.

One afternoon we arrived at the barnyard to find him on his knees eating a mistress’s pussy. Two other mistresses stood near impatiently waiting their turns and another lounged in a chair with her legs sprawled apart wearing a look of utter contentment. Mistress Eve took one look and her nipples popped up. She rushed through unharnessing and washing us down, then hurried to get in line.

Another mistress was in such a hurry that she left her team partly unharnessed and got in line. Audrey was helping in the washroom. She saw the team staring at their mistress in astonishment. She took it upon herself to finish removing their harness. No one noticed and the team decided to give themselves long hot showers, shampoo their hair and raid the body lotion cabinet. When they finished cleaning up they strolled leisurely to dinner. After eating they sat on the fence and watched Timmy service all the mistresses.

When their mistress finally came back she wore a dazed happy expression. She hung up their harness and took them to their cells. They swung their arms as they walked and she didn’t notice that they weren’t in bondage. Apparently it never occurred to her to ask how they came to be out of their leathers.   

Later that evening Timmy’s real world mistress arrived with another woman in a chauffeured car. After dinner he was brought out and put through a demonstration of pony work. The whole stable, male and female was permitted to watch. Our arms were tightly bound and we were hobbled, then permitted to sit on the ground.

The lady who owned Timmy was a dominatrix and she looked every inch the part. She wore a midnight blue leather outfit consisting of a slit skirt, a vest with a revealing neckline and blue spike heels. Mistress Karen also dressed for the occasion in a red silk skirt, white blouse and white boots. 

His mistress put Timmy through his paces herself. He pulled a wagon, a heavy drag sled, pranced through a simple dressage routine, then was harnessed to a two seater and took both ladies for a ride.

After the ride his mistress, whose name was Domicilla, allowed him to rest while she watched a display of dressage by our best male team. We wondered why we women weren’t put on display, but apparently she had no interest in female slaves. When the men finished they were tied to hitching posts.

While all this was going on Domicilla’s female companion and the chauffeur stood behind her chair impassively. When our male dressage team finished the companion peeled her dress over her head to reveal a very sexy domination costume. It was a high gloss orange leather corset, black boots and nothing else. Her legs were long and shapely and her breasts were magnificent. Her pubic hair was jet black and must have been oiled because it glistened in the light. The cocks of our males went high and hard (and a lot of our pussies were damp just looking at her).

She led the chauffeur into the center of the courtyard and commanded him to undress. He was a very large muscular man, just the type to double as a driver and bodyguard. When he was naked he displayed just about the largest penis and balls I’ve ever seen. When they came into view there was one huge gasp followed by an appreciative murmur from every woman present. Even the mistresses were impressed and for a moment they forgot to silence us. Mistress Karen’s eyes widened and she leaned forward for a closer look. Finally remembering her dignity she sat back, clapped her hands imperiously and ordered the mistresses to shut us up.

Number Four was beside me and she managed to murmur: “That’s what I call a big boy.”  The name stuck.

When the whips of the mistresses managed to restore quiet, the chauffeur stood impassively while he was buckled into pony harness. The harness was the same midnight blue color as his mistress’s costume.

Even though his face was expressionless, his cock began to rise and grew larger as each buckle was tightened. When it was at it fullest there was dead silence in the courtyard. Even the mistresses were wide eyed. Beside its enormous size, his cock was pierced by a thick golden ring. The ring swung with his pulse and twinkled in the light.

His last piece of harness was a cock strap passing between the cheeks of his bottom. It divided to encase his balls, then rose to be buckled to the front of his belly strap. Before securing the cock strap the lady Domicilla made him bend over while she inserted a very large dildo into his rectum. She tightened the cock strap and straightened him up. His cock was now even bigger. So was every one of our males and they were pawing the ground. Even the straight males were awed by that huge penis.

Timmy and Big Boy were hitched together for a tug of war. A long leather strap was connected to the backs of their harness and a line was drawn in the dirt. Domicilla stood beside Timmy and the lady in orange beside Big Boy. They were pushed apart until the strap was taut, then Domicilla cracked her whip and the males pulled. Timmy was young and muscular, but he was no match for the giant chauffeur. His mistress whipped him mercilessly and he sobbed with effort as he struggled to obey, but Big Boy simply walked away with him. Timmy was pulled easily across the goal line.

Domicilla was furious at him and she flogged the poor boy until he was a mass of welts. He stood silently during the whipping, only an occasional grimace showed in his face, but his hard cock showed that he obviously liked what was happening to him. After whipping him she backed him against a post, made him kneel and chained him in place.

Mistress Karen walked to the lady and they spoke quietly. They reached some sort of agreement because Mistress Karen gave a command and several of our mistresses rushed to unhobble our males. They trotted them into the equipment barn and emerged a few minutes later in full work harness.

Mistress Karen and Domicilla took their seats and watched as each of our males was pitted against Big Boy. He beat them easily and after he’d defeated each in turn, they were teamed in pairs and tried again. The chauffeur won every time. It wasn’t until our mistresses hooked him against a troika of our biggest males that he was unable to win, but even so, the match was a draw. Our pony boys were huffing and puffing with effort but Big Boy stood easily. He stopped trying to win and contented himself just holding his ground. The muscles in his huge thighs stood out and his cock was still very, very large but his breathing was normal. The tug strap was so tight that wondered if it might break under the strain. Mistress Donna rose from her seat, walked to our boys and whispered something to them, then she stepped back and undid her blouse. The boys stared as the loveliest pair of breasts we’d ever seen came into view. Their cocks rose another inch and they threw themselves into the contest. Their faces contorted with strain and they managed to pull Big Boy backward a step. He looked mildly surprised, then braced himself and pulled forward, regaining his lost ground. Our boys fought desperately to pull him. Their feet dug into the ground but all he did was plant his firmly and lean away from them. They couldn’t budge him and was content stay in place. He didn’t even look back at them, he just stared ahead with a blank expression. Our males strained and strained, but they were running out of steam

Mistress Donna raised her skirt!

There was a huge collective gasp as her pussy came into view, unfortunately the result was not what her wanted. One of our boys was so stunned that he completely lost his concentration. His mouth dropped open, he stopped pulling and stood straight up. The other two couldn’t hold and Big Boy pulled the entire team off their feet. He easily dragged them in a tangled heap, kicking and squirming across the line. A groan rose from the watchers. 

Mistress Donna threw up her hands and resumed her seat.

“I wonder what she said to them?” Number Three whispered.

“I bet I can guess,” Two said. I nodded.

“Do you think she offered to let them screw her if they won?” Four gasped in awe.

“Who knows?” I said. “But I’d drag that giant all the way around the farm for the chance.”

“What, to screw Mistress Donna or that big stud?” Four asked.

“Either one.”

“Yeah, me too,” whispered Three.

“Think we could do it?” Four asked. “Beat him in a tug of war?”

“Probably not,” I said. “And I don’t think we would get a chance to try anyway.”

“Yeah, darn it.”

The lady in orange undid Big Boy’s harness and led him to Timmy. She pointed to his mouth and Timmy opened wide. Big Boy thrust his cock inside and poor Timmy got busy.

I glanced at Mistress Karen in time to see her lean close to Lady Domicilla. I read Mistress Karen’s lips when she asked if Timmy was gay. Domicilla shook her head slowly, and with a wicked smile replied that he hated having to suck men’s penises. Mistress Karen commented that he was doing a pretty good job and seemed enthusiastic. Domicilla’s wicked smile grew. “He’s been broken,” her lips said.

I looked back at Timmy and would have given my soul to be in his place. I don’t think I was the only pony girl thinking that.

The orange mistress kept a close eye on Big Boy’s cock and carefully kept him from coming too soon. His face remained expressionless but at times his hips seemed to move on their own accord. She made him pause several times, cool down a bit then allowed him to resume. Finally she slapped his butt loudly and shouted: “Go!”

Big Boy threw back his head, let out a roar and spurted a huge amount of cum into Timmy’s mouth. Poor submissive Timmy tried to swallow it but couldn’t manage to keep it all in his mouth. His eyes widened in distress and cum gushed out the sides of his mouth and poured onto his chest. He coughed and snorted but tried to swallow all that he could. The orange mistress yanked Big Boy backwards until his cock emerged from Timmy’s mouth. It was still spurting and she aimed it right onto Timmy’s forehead. When Big Boy’s semen slowed she stroked his cock and more flew out. Poor little Timmy’s face was drenched, drenched, drenched. The courtyard was noisy with pony girl squeals and moans. The gay pony boys were beside themselves, twisting and turning and fighting their bonds. Even the straight males were excited. The mistresses had to ply their whips to restore discipline again.

When he finally ran out of cum Mistress Orange led Big Boy to Mistress Domicilla’s chair and had him kneel at her feet. Once again his face became expressionless. Mistress Karen leaned forward and looked at his penis. It was still throbbing slightly and a slow trickle of cum dripped out. She sat back looking impressed. She pointed to one of our males. A mistress unhitched him and led him toward Timmy. Our male tried to run forward and she had to dig in her heels to restrain him. Timmy looked at his mistress who nodded imperiously. He resignedly opened his mouth again. Our male slammed his penis into Timmy’s mouth and as soon as he came he was replaced by another. It took over two hours but poor little Timmy had to suck every cock on the farm that night. No one got bored watching either.

While all that was going on Mistress Karen turned Big Boy to face her. She slid her skirt up and opened her legs slightly. His cock rose instantly. Mistress Karen allowed him to look up her skirt while she and Domicilla chatted. After the last pony boy spurted into Timmy’s mouth Mistress Karen clipped a leash to the ring in Big Boy’s penis and tugged him to his feet. She led him into the house. Every eye followed them.

Domicilla and the orange mistress selected two of our males each and led them to the guest suites. The mistresses divided up the rest of the males and we women were taken to our stables. Some mistresses spent the night in the male stables and from the sounds of things none of the male ponies got much sleep. It was so noisy that neither did the rest of us.

Timmy spent the night chained to his post. 

BIG BOY’S SADDLE

The next morning Audrey was again put on my team. This time in Number Three’s spot. After putting us in harness Mistress Eve was leading us out when she stopped dead in her tracks.

Mistress Karen was leading Big Boy to the courtyard. To our astonishment Mistress Karen was dressed only in boots and panties. We looked at each other in amazement. No one could remember ever seeing Mistress Karen topless in public. Everything stopped in the barnyard.

Big Boy needed a shave and his body was covered in welts and he looked tired.

The visiting mistress was waiting at the equipment barn. She opened the trunk of her limousine and took out a human riding saddle. It was a new type made of a red aluminum frame fitted to Big Boy’s back and shoulders. It was padded and fit him like a carapace. The saddle was red leather and projected from the center of his back

Most human riders sit with their legs over the pony’s shoulders, basically like riding piggy back, but this saddle kept the rider well back and had workable stirrups. The saddle looked nicely authentic and comfortable for the rider, but would be hard for the pony to keep his balance. 

The mistresses buckled the saddle to Big Boy and he obediently folded his arms behind where they locked his wrists into metal cuffs attached to the frame. The cuffs were made to fit his huge wrists.

Mistress Karen buckled a deep bit into his mouth then led him to a mounting block. She put her foot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle. He flexed his knees slightly to take her weight, but straightened as soon as she was settled. She wriggled in the seat for a moment, testing his balance, then she stood in the stirrups. She leaned forward, then back and side to side but he stood firm. She sat down, wriggled until she was comfortable, then pulled the reins to the right. Big Boy turned his body in place. She rotated him a full circle, then reversed and made him turn the other direction. She backed him several paces, then forward. She walked him slowly around the barnyard until she had him fully under control, and then touched his upper legs with her spurs. He walked forward smoothly. She guided him onto the road and they disappeared from view. Every pony and every mistress watched until they disappeared.

“I wonder how long he can carry her,” Mistress Eve said to Mistress Jill, whose team was beside us.

“I wonder how long those panties will last,” Mistress Jill said. “They’ll be in shreds in half an hour.”

“They are rather flimsy,” Mistress Eve agreed. “Perhaps that’s what she wants.”  She flicked the reins on my shoulders and we set off to work.

“I wonder if they make saddles like that for women,” Number Two murmured as we walked to the field. 

“Would you want to be ridden like that?” Audrey asked quietly.

“God yes,” Two sighed. “I’d love it.”

Audrey looked sidelong at me.

“Its the ultimate expression of pony slavery,” I told her. “Unfortunately most female ponies aren’t strong enough to carry a rider.”

“No more talking,” Mistress Eve commanded. Her whip curled over Two’s shoulder and caught her nipple squarely.

An hour into plowing, Mistress Karen showed up riding Big Boy. She stopped and dismounted and as Mistress Jill had predicted, her panties were in shreds.

Mistress Karen slipped out of the remains of her panties and tucked them into Big Boy’s harness. She gave him a drink from our water jug and played with his cock while holding the cup to his mouth. He drank eagerly but spilled most of the water. (I think Mistress Karen’s fingers around his penis may have distracted him somewhat.)

The mistresses let us rest while they chatted and Mistress Karen’s fingers continued to toy with Big Boy’s cock. He was trained not to show emotion and stood like a statue but his heaving chest betrayed the fact that Mistress Karen was driving him wild. We watched fascinated and wondered who would win their little contest of will. I thought he was doing well until suddenly his face contorted and an enormous amount of cum spurted from his cock. We gave a huge team gasp when his cum sailed through the air for almost two yards. Both mistresses turned and looked at us, so we quickly assumed the blank expressions of properly disciplined pony girls. We stood as still as we could, but we all had to squeeze our legs tightly together.

The mistresses resumed their conversation as if nothing had happened and Mistress Karen’s fingers continued their work on that huge penis. More semen flew out.

“That’s the most cum I’ve ever seen come from a man,” Number Four whispered.

“Its still coming,” Number Two said in awe.

“There must be a cupful, “Four murmured.

“Almost enough to fill you up,” Two said. “For once.”

Audrey was silent but she stared in astonishment.  

Big Boy finally broke discipline, and with along shuddering groan he sank to his knees. Mistress Karen allowed him to stay there; in fact, she even patted his head gently.

“I’m disappointed,” Number Four whispered. “I thought he would be too strong to collapse like that.”

“You don’t know how many times she’s done that to him,” Number Two mumbled. “For all we know that could be his fifth or sixth time this morning.”

“Or his twentieth,” murmured Audrey.

I had to squeeze my legs tightly together.

Mistress Karen placed her foot on Big Boy’s shoulder and pushed him to the ground. He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes.

“I haven’t worked the fields in a long time. I think I’ll take your team for a while,” she said to Mistress Eve. “You watch the male. You can ride him when he’s recovered.”

“Recovered?” Mistress Eve asked doubtfully. “He looks like he’s out for the count.”

“You’ll know he’s recovered when his cock gets hard again,” Mistress Karen told her.

Mistress Eve prodded Big Boy’s penis with her foot. He didn’t move.

Mistress Karen took up my reins. We were unable to resist her beauty especially since she was stark naked save for a shiny pair of riding boots. We blatantly bobbed and wriggled letting her know that we were hers for sex if she wanted.

“Not today ladies. I’m saving myself for that big stallion.” She looked at me. “Besides, Number One, you have had plenty of special treatment lately.”

I had to agree and bowed deeply.

She climbed onto the plow, placed her feet on the rests and opened her knees. I simply could not keep myself from looking at her pussy. She snapped her whip across my breasts very hard.

“Eyes front,” she commanded. I turned part way, then paused and offered my other breast. The tip of her whip got my other nipple. It was like a split second of fire followed by a warm delicious ache. I bobbed my head in gratitude.

I faced front, came to attention and snorted loudly to the other girls. They straightened up, lifted their chins and stuck out their chests.

Mistress Karen rippled the reins across my shoulders and I stepped out. It was an absolute thrill to be driven by her, especially since she was stark naked. It took every ounce of discipline not to look at her.

Mistress Karen kept us under firm control as we plowed the rows. Normally Mistress Eve trusts me to keep the furrows straight and make the turns but Mistress Karen made constant adjustments to my course and took me through the turns with a firm hand on my reins. I began to get annoyed. It was a great honor to be driven by Mistress Karen, but I’ve been a pony long enough to know how to plow a straight furrow, thank you very much.

We’d made a dozen passes through the field when I noticed Mistress Eve standing over Big Boy. She was straddling his face with her boots beside his head. Even from a hundred yards I saw that his penis was rising, which was hardly surprising since Mistress Eve had taken off her shorts and panties. He rolled onto his back and looked up at her pussy. She looked down at him with her hands on her waist. She didn’t wiggle her hips or move at all, she didn’t have to. His cock continued to rise. The other girls saw it too and gasped in unison. Number Four faltered slightly as she watched that monster grow. Her misstep threw us off a bit, which earned us all a visit from Mistress Karen’s whip.

Mistress Eve pulled Big Boy to his feet. She brushed the dirt off his skin and straightened his harness and gave his cock a few strokes for good measure. She slipped into her panties and shorts and gave his cock a few more strokes, which brought a groan of envy from Number Two. Mistress Eve put her foot into the stirrup and climbed into the saddle. She waved at Mistress Karen, leaned forward so her breasts were pressing against his head, slapped him on the chest and away they went. We watched until they disappeared from view.

We plowed several more rows.

From the corner of my eye I saw Audrey trying to peek over her shoulder at Mistress Karen. I snorted softly at her and shook my head. She got the message and kept her eyes forward.

Unfortunately Number Two got caught looking. Mistress Karen stopped us, climbed off the plow and very deliberately whacked Number Two across the breasts with her whip. Number Two squeaked and shrank back, then straightened and dutifully presented her breasts for another. She got it. She got a lot more.

Mistress Karen whipped Number Two until she was sobbing in pain and dancing in place. I looked at Number Four, snorted, and then leaned away from Two until the traces were tight. Number Four leaned the other way. Audrey caught on and pressed her weight away from Two until we were holding her immobile between us.

Mistress Karen whipped Two’s breasts, back, thighs and buttocks until her skin was bright red, then she switched to a windmill stroke, spinning the whip vertically so fast that it was nearly impossible to see. She ignored Two’s chastity belt and the spinning whip got Number Two right between the legs. It made a dull clinking sound every time it hit the metal. Two screamed and had an orgasm. (She told us that she thinks she’s become so conditioned to punishment that it didn’t matter that the whip didn’t actually contact her body. Very Pavlovian). I think she was just incredibly horny after wearing that buzzer on her pussy for two days. Anyway, her legs gave way and she collapsed.

We weren’t expecting her to fall down. She dragged Audrey off her feet and she landed on the ground. Then Four toppled over and landed atop Two and she became the target of the whip. 

Audrey landed on her back with her feet splayed apart. She struggled to get up, then looked up at Mistress Karen, lay back and opened her legs wider. I was astonished.

Mistress Karen kept the whip going on Number Four but she looked at Audrey appraisingly.

“Have you changed your mind about being scarred?” she asked. “Because if you keep those legs apart it just might happen to you.”

“I want you to scar me for life,” Audrey whispered. A split second later the whip caught her squarely in the pussy!

The whip didn’t land across Audrey’s pussy, it didn’t catch the sensitive area beside it, or at the very top of her thighs, it landed between her labia and it went inside!

Audrey screamed and closed her legs. Mistress Karen jerked the whip out and Audrey screamed again.

“Open up,” Mistress Karen commanded. Audrey lay gasping and didn’t hear. The whip snapped quickly on the outsides of her thighs, first one side, then the other.

“I said, open your legs!” Mistress Karen said. Audrey tried to obey. She opened them slightly, let out a gasp of pain, and then clamped them shut. Mistress Karen’s whip created long red welts on Audrey’s legs. With a supreme effort Audrey managed to spread her knees.

“If you close your legs again I will have you strapped to a cross and I’ll whip your pussy so hard that you will go home in a wheel chair,” Mistress Karen told her.

Audrey sobbed and opened her legs wider.

At that moment Mistress Eve rode up on Big Boy. Her eyes widened at the pile of pony girls. Mistress Karen didn’t see her and she quickly turned her mount and rode him into a thicket. She must have thought that she was hidden but I could see her clearly through the leaves. She unbuckled Big Boy’s cock harness and released his arms. She tore off her shorts and panties and tossed them away, then grabbed his collar and pulled him to the ground. He landed between her legs and was thrusting into her before her shorts touched down.

Mistress Karen kept her whip going between Audrey’s legs until Audrey’s cries changed from yelps of pain to moans of pleasure. Audrey no longer writhed under the whip, but opened her eyes and looked up adoringly at Mistress Karen. When her orgasm struck Audrey’s eyes actually rolled back into her head and she fainted. Mistress Karen’s whip stopped and she looked down at Audrey with a look of satisfaction. She glanced at Number Two and Four who were slowly writhing with their legs entwined. Mistress Karen pushed her hair out of her eyes and stepped back.

The whole time I’d stood quietly trying to be a good pony, but I didn’t want her to turn and see Mistress Eve fucking Big Boy, so I stepped forward and looked Mistress Karen in the eye.

“You too, eh?” she said. I shook my breasts defiantly, then lay down and spread my legs. Mistress Karen looked up at the sky, took a deep breath, and then said grimly: “You are going to regret that.”

I lifted my hips off the ground.

Mistress Karen threw the whip back, extended her arm, and brought the whip down into my pussy with all her strength. Like Audrey, it went right inside my vagina.

I have never experienced so terrible a pain in my life! Neither have I experienced so wonderful an orgasm.

The nice thing about that orgasm was that I didn’t feel any of the other blows. I lay in a daze, I saw Mistress Karen’s arm moving, I watched the whip land in my crotch, I heard the loud cracks each time it touched my skin, but I felt absolutely no pain, only the pure delight of that boiling orgasm.

I don’t know how much time passed but finally the whip stopped. Mistress Karen was soaked with perspiration. She walked to the water jug and poured it over her face.

Mistress Eve led Big Boy back to us with a look of innocent puzzlement on her face.

She was properly dressed and he was back in harness. His eyes were half open and he didn’t seem able to focus them. He staggered and his penis was no longer hard, but it swung nicely as he walked. Mistress Eve absently motioned for him to kneel. He went to his knees then collapsed on his face.

Mistress Eve stared at astonishment at her team. We were piled in a heap. I was barely conscious, Audrey was staring up at the sky with her legs still wide apart, Number Two was whimpering from her beating and Number Four was lying very still atop her trying not to attract attention.

“What’s the matter with him?” Mistress Karen asked looking at Big Boy.

“I believe he’s worn out,” Mistress Eve answered. “What have you been doing to him today?”

“Humph,” Mistress Karen said. “Well, he has been busy.”

“I think I would give him a rest,” Mistress Eve suggested.

“You’re probably right,” Mistress Karen said. She looked at us. “Clear up this mess and get them back to work.”

She tapped Big Boy with her crop. He raised his head, then wearily climbed to his feet. Mistress Karen looked at his cock expectantly but it didn’t rise a bit. She batted it back and forth with her open hand but still nothing. She shrugged and ignoring his reins, she grasped his penis, pulled it to get him moving and led him away. He followed on unsteady legs and was lurching from side to side as they disappeared around the bend in the road.

Mistress Eve unhitched our harness and untangled Number Two and Number Four. She dragged Audrey to her feet and motioned for me to stand. She put us in line and looked us over. We looked terrible. Everyone’s harness was in disarray, bits were out of our mouths, mud, grass and leaves stuck to our bodies and we were covered in welts.

Mistress Eve looked into Audrey’s glassy eyes and chuckled. “It looks like you just had an orgasm.”

Audrey looked at her blankly, then nodded.

She looked at me. “You too, huh?”

“Yes Mistress,” I answered. “Just like you.”

“What?”

I nodded toward the thicket. “You weren’t as well hidden as you thought,” I said.

She looked and saw that I was right. Her mouth formed an O. “Did Karen see?”

“No Mistress, she was busy with us.”

Mistress Eve was in a good mood the rest of the day, (what woman would not have been?) and she took it easy on us.

After she tidied up our harness she let us rest while she dozed under a shade tree. After lunch she put us back to plowing but took it slow with lots of breaks. She hummed to herself as we worked.

We finished for the day and she was walking us out of the field when something in a tree caught my eye. I stopped in my tracks. Mistress Eve flipped the reins but I didn’t move. She stepped in front of me.

“You’d better have a good reason,” she said.

I slowly lifted my head and looked up. Everyone’s eyes followed mine. Number Two couldn’t resist a loud snort.

Mistress Eve’s panties were hanging from a tree limb. Apparently they landed there when she threw them off.

“Oh,” she said. “No wonder I couldn’t find them.”

Number Two giggled. So did Four.

The panties were too high for Mistress Eve to reach.

“I’ll have to bring a long stick tomorrow,” she said musingly.

“Or hope for high winds tonight,” Audrey muttered.

Mistress Eve struggled not to laugh. She looked at us sternly. “I haven’t given you permission to speak.

I bowed deeply. “Nevertheless Mistress, I trust you will forgive this humble pony’s presumption in suggesting that you might want to cover your chest before we get back to the stables.”

“Why?” she demanded.

“Because you have a bruise between your boobs that perfectly matches the buckle on that big stallion’s chest,” I said.

She looked down and saw the mark between her breasts. She folded her hands over it, turned without a word and walked toward the stables.

“You know, that’s just like getting screwed by a cop,” Number Two commented.

“What are you talking about?” Four asked.

“If you get screwed by a policeman on duty you always get a bruise from his badge,” Two said.

“Well why wouldn’t he take off his uniform?” Audrey asked.

“If he’s on duty he might have to jump up and rush away to handle an emergency.”

“What could possibly be more important?” Audrey asked.

Mistress Eve was waiting, her foot tapping the ground.

“Giddyup girls,” I said. “Its quitting time.” We followed her home.

A few minutes later Number Two said: “I hope Mistress Eve’s panties are still there in the morning.”

“Why wouldn’t they be?” Four asked.

“The birds might pick them apart to make a nest.”

“Oh, you mean there could be birds living in Mistress Eve’s panties,” Audrey giggled.

“Why not,” Four said. “I know a few bird brains that live in panties.”

Mistress Eve didn’t stop. She didn’t even look back at us, but her neck and shoulders were very stiff. I figured that we were in for it when we got back.

Mistress Eve got even with us. She didn’t whip us or leave us hanging on crosses all night. It was worse. When she finished washing us she played with our pussies until we were begging to come, then she locked Audrey and me into chastity belts and told Two and Four that she was adding another day to their sentence.

Number One Pony

THE PONY PROFESSOR

After dinner we relaxed and talked with the other girls. At least we relaxed as much as possible. It’s not easy wearing two pounds of buzzing metal between your legs. The vibration is concentrated just above your pussy but the chastity belt carries the sensation all over your crotch. Audrey was bemused by the sensation. She’d never worn a chastity belt, much less a vibrating one and she kept squirming.

“Wiggling around isn’t going to help,” I told her.

“This is the most incredible sensation,” she said. “Its sexy but very frustrating.”

“That’s’ the point,” I said. “And it could be worse.”

“In God’s name how?”

“You could be lying on a fur rug in front of a warm crackling fireplace in a tight hog tie listening to two mistresses make love in the next room all night.”

“Someone did that to you?” Audrey asked.

I nodded. “It nearly drove me out of my mind.”

“Yes, I could see how that might happen,” she said squirming. “It was nice the first hour or so, but now its becoming insidious.”

“Yep.”

“Ooooh,” she said, trying to find a comfortable position. “We have to endure this all night?”

I nodded.

“I hear that Mistress Karen has offered to buy that big male,” someone said.

“Worth any price,” another woman commented.

“Is she going to buy him or trade one of our males away?” asked Aggie, the lead on another team.

“If I was his owner I would demand more than one of our males,” Donna said. “That guy is worth three other men.”

“Why would it have to be a male?” Number Three asked. “She might want to trade for one of us.”

“You for instance?” I laughed.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Number Three said. “That Lady Domicilla is very beautiful.” 

“I heard that she won’t have anything to do with women,” Gloria said. “Males only for her.”

“I bet Number One could change her mind,” Audrey said, looking at me. “She has a very talented tongue.”

“She sure does,” Gloria laughed. “But from what I hear Lady Domicilla wouldn’t let her get close enough to see her pussy, much less lick it.”

“She doesn’t know what she’s missing,” someone said.

“Is she a professional dom?” Angie asked.

“She used to be but apparently she came into money and retired. She no longer takes in clients for pay, but she keeps half a dozen male slaves.”

“Did she train that huge hunk of a man?” Susan, Angie’s number four asked.

“No, she bought him in Scotland,” Gloria said. “She had never owned a pony boy but she attended a pony meet while she was over there and liked what she saw. She paid a fortune for Big Boy and after discovering how much fun they can be she decided to convert the rest of her slaves to ponies. But she doesn’t feel that she’s ready to train ponies herself so she sent Timmy to us as a test and if she’s satisfied with the results we might get the rest of her males later.”

“She ought to hang out here and learn to be a pony mistress,” Number Two said.

“She and Mistress Karen have been discussing just that,” Gloria answered.

“Do they train mistresses too?” Audrey asked.

“Why not, if they train ponies for other people,” I answered. “It makes sense to train dominants.”

“If she is no longer professional why does she still use a silly name like Domicilla?” asked Angie.

“What’s silly about it?” Number Two asked.

“It means house in Latin,” Angie replied.

“How do you know?” Number Two asked. “Do you speak Latin?”

“I used to be a college professor, remember?” Angie said.

“Oh, yeah.” 

“You really were a professor?” Debbie asked. Angie nodded.

“So how did you come to be here?”

“Through one of my former students,” Angie said. “About ten years ago she finished training here and was on her first furlough. She dropped by the campus and we had coffee. She told me about being a pony girl.”

“And you instantly decided that you wanted to be one, right?” Gloria laughed.

“No, not at all,” Angie replied. “At first I was appalled. I thought is was horrible for a woman to give up her freedom, not to mention a waste of her education.”

“You sound like a feminine libber,” Audrey said.

“Oh, I was,” Angie said. “I was hard core for liberation. In the seventies I marched in demonstrations, burned my bra, wrote letters to newspapers, the works.”

“And now you’re a sex slave. What changed your mind?”

“I decided to talk my student out of it,” Angie said. “I took it upon myself to counsel her.”

“Uh oh, I think I can see it coming,” Susan laughed.

Angie nodded. “In order to help her I first had to understand what she was doing, so I asked her to tell me about being a pony in detail. She was all too happy to talk about it.”

“Turned you on, did it?” asked Debbie.

“Sure did,” Angie answered. “The more we talked, the hotter I got.”

“Did you have sex with the student?” I asked.

“No, but I convinced myself that I should experience what she went through, so I could better understand how to help her. All in the spirit of research you understand.”

“Right!” laughed Number Three.

“So I allowed her to talk me into wearing harness,” Angie said blushing. “I told myself it would merely be for a clinical evaluation of the experience.”

“Ah hah,” said Susan mock seriously. “And what was your evaluation of that experience?”

“I didn’t care much for the harness at first,” Angie said. “In fact, I felt rather silly as she buckled it onto my body.”

“Were you naked?” Audrey asked.

“No. Buttercup wanted me to be naked and I wanted to be fully dressed. We compromised and I wore my panties and bra,” Angie said.

“And you felt silly in harness?” Gloria asked.

“Yes, right up to the instant that she buckled my wrists together.”

“What happened?” Susan laughed. “As if we don’t already know,”

“The instant that I was helpless I felt a thrill like nothing I’d ever experienced,” Angie said seriously.

The room was quiet while each woman remembered her first time in restraint.

“Welcome to the club,” Debbie said.

“Where did you get the harness?” Number Three asked. “Did your student happen to have a set with her?”

“No, she put together a simple harness out of nylon straps. I didn’t get to wear leather until later. We didn’t have a bit so she used a ball gag, but she strapped my arms very tightly behind my back and marched me around my house on a leash.”

“Did you go outside?”

“Yes,” Angie giggled. “She dragged me through the door into my back yard. She walked me around, then hitched me to a tree and left me alone.”

“Did anyone see you?” Gloria asked.

“No, my back yard had a tall privacy fence,” Angie said

“Aw, darn it,” some one said.

“Did you hope that someone might see you, right?” Audrey asked.

Angie nodded. “I was terrified that someone might see me and disappointed when no one did.”

“Welcome to exhibitionism,” Number Three chuckled.

“And later?” I asked after a moment.

“She put me in harness a few more times.”

“Did you still wear panties?”

“No, I was naked.”

“Did you lick her pussy?”

“No, I was still too conventional then.”

“What else happened?”

“Between visits from Buttercup I researched information on pony girls,” Angie said. “Which led to bondage, s and m, and finally serious torture.”

“Did you find a lot of literature in the university library?” Gloria asked.

“As a matter of fact I did,” Angie said. “In the psychology section.”

“And just what did you find out about yourself?” Number Four asked.

“Some disturbing and shocking things,” Angie admitted. “I was appalled at myself.”

“So was I,” Susan said. “When I first got into this.” There was a murmur of agreement.

“Did you try the porn stores?”

“Yes, I did that too,” Angie said. “I discovered a solid base of information.”

“So, you read all of the John Willie books?”

“Oh, I loved the artwork,” she said. “I wanted to wear those costumes.”

“Who doesn’t?” Debbie chuckled.

“Go on with your story,” I suggested.

“I started to wear the harness in public under my clothes,” Angie said.

“A vibrator too?” Debbie asked grinning.

“Actually, two vibrators,” Angie said.

“Good girl,” yelled Number Three.

Everyone applauded.

“Tell me professor,” Number Four said very seriously. “Was it difficult to deliver a lecture in class with a vibrator buzzing inside your pussy?”

“It was delightful,” Angie answered straight faced. “But cost me a fortune in batteries.”

It took several minutes for the laughter to quiet down. Angie continued her story.

“When Buttercup’s furlough was up I went to a professional dominatrix and paid her for pony sessions,” she said.

“Were they good?” Donna, Debbie’s lead asked.

“I thought so at the time,” Angie said. “But looking back, they were flat and shallow, nothing at all like what we get here. The dominatrix wasn’t truly a pony mistress but she did her best and at least I got to wear real leather.”

“How many times did you go to her?” Gloria asked.

“Perhaps a dozen or so. I wanted to be dominated by a man but I didn’t have the courage to put myself in that position.”

“That’s understandable.”

After a while I wanted more intensity so I asked the dominatrix to tie me tighter, work me harder, and take photographs of me.”

“Uh oh,” Debbie said. “How bad were the pictures?”

“The worst possible. I posed in harness in some pretty explicit positions but the worst was stark naked on an X cross with a dildo up my pussy.”

“Did you wear a mask or hood?”

“Nope, I stared right into the camera while she shot several rolls of film.”

“Did the pictures get published?” Number Two asked.

“Not in a magazine but I gave her permission to blow them up and exhibit them in her dungeon. They’re probably still there.”

“I like modeling,” Number Two said.

“Yeah,” Number Three said. “The raunchier the better.”

“And her pictures have been published in bondage magazines,” Number Four said. Two smiled proudly.

“There was a woman taking pictures when Debbie got branded,” Audrey said.

“That was Mary, the accountant,” I told her. “She keeps a photo journal of the farm.”

“And I’ll get copies for my album,” Debbie said.

“Do you keep photo albums?” Audrey gasped.

“Sure,” I said. “If you choose to. I have seventeen years of memories, starting on the first day I arrived.”

“Do they take pictures of everyone?” she asked in a panic. “I can’t have that. If pictures of me were get out it would ruin my reputation.”

“They won’t take your picture unless you give signed permission,” I said. I didn’t think it was the time to tell Audrey that Mary had photographed us on the cross, even though Audrey’s back was to the camera. “Mary examines every photograph very carefully and if someone happens to appear in one who doesn’t want to be photographed she destroys that picture and the negative.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely sure,” Gloria told her. “Mistress Karen is adamant about protecting our privacy.”

“But what if the pictures did get out, aren’t you worried they might fall into the wrong hands?”

“There are no wrong hands, as far as I’m concerned,” I said.

“Me neither,” added Debbie. “I love to have people look at my pictures. That’s why I like to model for magazines.”

Audrey looked at me questioningly.

“Yes, I’ve appeared in porn magazines too,” I said.

“So have I” Gloria said. “And I’ve been doing it so long that I recently did a shoot with a young man who is the son of one of my old partners.”

Audrey’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious,” she gasped.

“She sure is,” Debbie said straight faced. “In fact, she hopes to have sex with the guy’s grandson before she dies.”

Audrey finally realized that they were pulling her leg. She blushed and pretended to scowl at them.

“Go on with your story,” Number Two said to Angie. “What else happened to you?”

“I experienced my first whipping.”

“Did you have your first bondage orgasm?” Number Three asked.

“No, I’d already had many of those,” she said. “The dominatrix always made me come by playing with my pussy at the end of every session. But the whipping was my first pain induced orgasm.”

“A good one?”

“Fantastic,” Angie said. “That was when I became hooked. After she whipped me I begged to eat her pussy.”

“Were you already gay?” Gloria asked.

“Nope, I didn’t even know that I had lesbian tendencies until then,” Angie said. “And I’m not totally gay, just bi sexual.”

“So you wouldn’t mind screwing that giant stallion?” Number Two asked innocently.

“I’d screw him in the middle of the university football stadium on live television,” Angie said.

It took about ten minutes for the laughter to die down.

“When did you decide to become a full time pony?” Audrey asked.

“Right after the photography session,” Angie answered. “ I got so turned on looking at my pictures that I wanted to wear harness every day. I hung pictures all over my house. I became so enthralled with bondage that I couldn’t concentrate on my career. All I thought about was becoming a slave. So I finished the semester, sold my house, closed out my affairs and resigned from the university,” Angie said. “Then I came here and asked to be trained. That was nine years ago.”

“What happened when you came here?”

“Two mistresses stripped me naked in the barnyard and strapped me into harness. They were very rough and tightened the buckles until they bit into my skin.”

“Oooh, poor thing,” Gloria said. “When did you have your first orgasm?”

“About three minutes later.”

“And you’ve lived here ever since?” asked Audrey. “Any regrets?”

“Only that I didn’t learn about pony girls earlier.”

“And you changed your attitude about feminine liberation?” asked Donna.

“No, not at all,” Angie said. “In fact, I feel more freedom as a pony girl than I ever did on the outside.”

“It does open doors for you,” I said.

There were deep nods of agreement.

“What’s your wildest fantasy?” Debbie asked.

“I’d like to be on a float in the college homecoming parade, stark naked on an x cross while someone whips my breasts,” she answered. “And I want all of the university faculty, all my former students, my parents, brothers and sisters and especially my ex husband to be on the reviewing stand as I pass by.”

“And have the float pulled by a team of pony girls, right?”

Angie thought about it, then shook her head. “No, I don’t want anything to divert attention from me. I’d want to be the only naked woman in sight.”

“Cool.”

“Your student’s name was Buttercup?” Gloria asked.

“I can’t use her real name,” Angie said. “But she was called Buttercup when she was here.”

“I remember her,” Number Three said. “She was a short girl with a pageboy hair cut. Really cute.”

“Yes,” Gloria added. “She had a sweet personality and was a very enthusiastic pony.”

“What ever happened to her?” I asked.

“Mistress Karen put her up for auction.” Angie said. “She was sold to a family in Phoenix. She’s very happy there.”

“A family?” Debbie asked.

“Yes, with three teenaged boys,” Angie replied. “They keep her very busy and very contented.”

“Interesting family,” Susan commented. “Is the mother a pony girl?”

“No, she’s the dominant force in that household. Buttercup submits to the father and the boys every day but she spends more time with her face between the mother’s legs than she does with the males.”

“Are the males submissive?”

“No, they are all dominant, but the mother rules the roost.”

“Do you keep in touch with Buttercup?” Audrey asked.

Angie nodded. “We take our furloughs together.”

“She gets furloughs at her new home?” Number Three asked.

“Yep, it was written into her sales contract.”

“You know,” Donna mused. “With three teenaged boys, I might be tempted to take my furloughs at Buttercup’s home.”

Angie lowered her eyes and blushed. I looked at her curiously, and then it dawned!

“Oh, my God,” I gasped. “You do that, don’t you?”

Angie buried her face in her hands and nodded. The room echoed with laughter.

PONY KATE

Audrey noticed that one of the other girls seemed to be lost in thought. The pony was Kate who is on Debbie’s team. Kate was staring into space, lost in thought. Audrey nudged me and raised her eyebrows questioningly. Kate noticed and snapped out of her reverie.

“Katie, you have an interesting history,” I said. “Do you mind telling Audrey your story?”

Kate shrugged. “Why not?” She straightened up. “I became a pony because of my mother.”

Audrey’s eyes widened. She turned to me in amazement. I shushed her and pointed for her to listen to Kate.

“I was twenty one,” Kate said. “I was driving home from college for the weekend and I’d just reached the city when I saw my mother driving the other way on the freeway. I waved and beeped my horn but she didn’t see me, so I turned around and tried to catch up to her.

“Mom is a very successful realtor in Seattle and specializes in country estates. She travels a lot, so I assumed that she was on her way to a showing. I’d just about caught up with her when she turned off onto a side road. The road was paved but eventually it changed to gravel, then dirt. I was driving a new car and I didn’t want to damage the paint with bouncing rocks so I slowed down. I lost contact with mom’s car but caught sight again when I saw her stopped at a gate. She was quite a way ahead of me and she was unlocking a padlock. She drove through the gate, then closed and locked it. I was driving slowly toward her but she didn’t see me. She drove away and disappeared around a curve. I stopped at the gate and wondered why she’d locked it. After all, if she were meeting someone to show a property she would have left the gate open.

“I stopped my car and wondered if I should just go on home, but something made me very curious, so I climbed the fence and followed the road on foot. I didn’t have to go very far because when I rounded the curve I saw Mom’s car parked near an old barn. Another car was there too.

“The barn sat in the middle of a large meadow but there were no other buildings in sight. I assumed that mom was selling the land to someone to build a big house on.

“Mom wasn’t in sight but a man was leaning on a post outside the barn. I started to approach when my mother walked out stark naked.”

“Uh oh,” Audrey breathed.

“Mom stood beside the man, turned her back to him and folded her arms behind her back. The man took a leather strap from a hook on the wall and bound my mother’s arms. She tested them then nodded to him. Then he buckled her into pony harness.”

“Didn’t they see you?”

“No, I jumped behind a tree,” Kate said.

“I didn’t know about pony slavery then,” Kate continued. “And I wondered what hold he had over her to compel her to submit that way.”

“Being a natural born pony girl can be compelling enough,” Gloria said quietly.

“Um hmm, but I didn’t know that then,” Kate said. “I assumed that he must have been blackmailing her somehow.

“When he finished buckling the harness on Mom the man touched her body. He touched her anywhere he wanted and as long as he wanted. Mom stood impassively for a while, then she began to move. She moved very sexually and it was obvious that she enjoyed it.

“Oh, yes,” someone murmured.

“Yeah,” Kate said wryly. “He touched her like he owned her.”

Kate paused, then continued. “The man took a riding crop from the wall and smacked Mom across her bottom a few times. She bent and wiggled her butt for him so he smacked her a couple more times, then he led her away from the barn. Every bit of her body language indicated how eager she was. He stood still and held a long leash while she walked around him in a circle. Then she broke into a trot. After a few turns he led her around the perimeter of the meadow. They came so close to me that I had to duck out of sight.

“After circling the meadow the man slapped her on the bottom and she began running. She ran easily with her back straight and her head high and I could se that she was used to doing this. They circled the meadow several times, then he slowed her to a walk and let her cool down.

“He took her back to the barn and removed her bit. He gave her a long drink of water and played with her breasts while she drank. She spilled a lot of water but laughed as his hands roamed freely over her body. When she finished drinking she offered her mouth for him to kiss. He kissed her and kept his hands busy with her body at the same time. Then they talked about something.

“I couldn’t hear but I could tell that he wanted Mom to do something and she was reluctant. He held something small in his hand. I couldn’t see what it was and Mom didn’t like it. She shook her head at first, but eventually she agreed. She nodded, looked up at the sky and took a deep breath. The man did something with her breast and immediately a look of pain came over her face.”

“Ah, nipple clamps.” Debbie said knowingly.

“Precisely,” Kate answered. “Mom writhed for a moment but shook her head when he asked her a question. I presumed that he was offering to take it off. He waited until she settled down, then held up another. Mom offered her other breast and he put the second one on. He waited until she got used to it, then carefully clipped reins to the clamps and walked away backwards. Mom followed on her toes.

“He led her around the meadow, keeping the reins taut and eventually her expression changed from pain to pleasure.”

There were rustlings and murmurs from the listening slaves. Several crossed their legs tightly. (Including me.)

“He led her back to the barn and removed the clamps. He caressed her breasts until she was gasping in delight, then slipped his hand between her legs. I watched as he fingered my mother to an orgasm.”

The rustlings grew a little louder.

“It was pretty disconcerting seeing my mother in harness,” Kate said wryly. “But that was just the beginning.”

“When she came he held her close until she calmed down,” Kate continued. “Then he put the clamps back on her nipples and tossed the reins over a beam. He tugged the reins until Mom was on her toes, then he tied them off and walked into the barn.

“He left her there for a long time and Mom just stood patiently. She shuffled around a little and tried to relieve the strain by raising up on her toes, but when she let herself drop I saw a look of pleasure come over her face.”

“How did you feel all that time?” Gloria asked.

“Astonished, dismayed, confused, betrayed,” Kate said. “And aroused.”

Everyone nodded understandingly.

“Its bad enough to find out that your mother is has a lover,” Kate said. “But to realize that she’s also a masochist is hard for a young girl to accept. I didn’t know how bad she was until the man walked out of the barn and casually slapped her reins. Mom’s eyes were closed and she wasn’t expecting that but she jerked upwards and screamed so loud that it echoed off the trees. He watched as she writhed, then gave her a kiss.”

“Did she have and an orgasm?” someone asked.

“Oh yes.” Kate answered. “I could tell by the look on her face.”

“Oooh, what happened next?”

“He went back inside and left her hanging.”

“How long did she wait?”

“It was a long time,” Kate said. “But Mom didn’t seem to mind. She just stood in the sunlight. Finally the man emerged pulling a pony cart. He released her from the beam, hooked her to the cart and they went for a ride.

“By now I was beside myself with confusion, but when he flicked a whip across her shoulder and she giggled I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she trotted across the meadow and I was disappointed when they disappeared into the trees.”

“Where did they go?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Kate said. “ I ran across the meadow and saw that they had taken a narrow dirt road through the forest. I had no idea where the road led and I didn’t dare follow them in case the came back and discovered me, so I went back to my hiding place. I sat on a log and waited. When they returned, I could hear them talking before they came in sight. I couldn’t understand what they said but Mom was conversing over her shoulder as she ran.”

“She must have been in good condition,” Number Two commented.

“Yeah, I thought it was from going to aerobics,” Kate said. “Bit I found out later that she’d been a pony girl for several years.”

“With the same master?”

“Yes. He’s the only master she’s had.”

“How often do they meet?”

“Two or three days a week.”

“What happened after that?”

“He walked Mom around the meadow cooling her down, then he fucked her,” Kate said brutally. “He took off her harness but left her arms bound. Then had her lie down on the grass, he took off his clothes and got on top of her. I could see and hear everything clearly. Mom was very enthusiastic. She bounced him into the air.”

The room was utterly silent.

“After they finished he apparently dozed off. Mom wrapped her legs around him and lay there while he slept.”

“How long did he sleep?” Susan asked.

“Perhaps half an hour, then he got up, ordered her to stand and led her back to the barn. I hadn’t noticed but Mom’s arms were still tied behind her back. She walked without any discomfort at all. That was when I realized that she was used to being tied up.”

“Very interesting,” Gloria commented.

“Yeah,” Kate said wryly. “I discovered that Mom’s master was one hell of a man too, because he decided the screw her again. He pointed to a hitching rail. She draped herself over it and wiggled her bottom as he tied her feet apart, then he screwed her from behind.”

Kate paused and looked around. “I know what you are all dying to ask. But I honestly don’t know if he fucked my mother up her ass or not. I was too far away to see, and that’s one question I haven’t asked her.”

The room was absolutely silent.

“When he finished the second time he untied Mom and she went into the barn. He plopped down on a bench against the wall. He sprawled in a disgusting posture of pure satisfaction. After a while she came out fully dressed and looking perfectly normal. She sat beside him and they talked for a while, then she kissed him and walked to her car.

I realized that Mom would see my car as soon as she unlocked the gate so I ran back to it and drove away.”

“How long had you been there?” Gloria asked.

“Almost four hours,” Kate said. “I drove home in a state of shock, and when I got there the house keeper was preparing for a dinner that evening. Dad was home and I didn’t want to talk to him so I helped the housekeeper. Mom showed up an hour later in a cheerful mood. She gave Dad a kiss and me a big hug and dragged me to her room so we could talk while she got ready for the party. There was absolutely no sign of what she had been doing all afternoon. I tried to conceal my agitation but she saw that something was bothering me so I lied and told her that I’d had a quarrel with my boyfriend.

“I didn’t want to sit through a dinner but Mom insisted. The guests arrived and Mom was her normal happy, effervescent self. She introduced me to the guests and didn’t let on a thing when her master arrived.”

“What?”

“The man who had screwed my mother walked in wearing a thousand dollar suit and looking like a gentleman.

“She introduced me to him as if he were just a normal friend. They were correct and proper and there wasn’t the slightest sign that they had been together just a few hours earlier. 

“Incredible!” Audrey said.

“Yeah, it turned out that he is the president of a bank that Mom did business with, and he’s a friend of my father.”

“Did your father suspect anything?” Number Two asked.

“No, Mom was the perfect hostess and spent no more time with her master than any other guest, but I watched and saw that she brushed against him very subtly a few times, but no one else noticed.”

“Not even your father?” Audrey asked.

“Him last of all. My Dad is an amiable, charming man who drinks too much,” Kate sighed. “I’ve never seen him drunk, but I’ve never seen him completely sober either. He’s in a constant state of mild intoxication. And he has had a succession of mistresses and girl friends since I was a little girl. Mom put up with it for years.”

“Did she have lovers too?”

“No, Mom is a gorgeous woman and she attracts a lot of men, but she told me that she had been faithful to Dad until she met her master.”

“And they became lovers.”

“Right.”

“When did you and your mother talk?” I asked.

“Years later, after I became a pony girl,” Kate answered.

“Why did you become a pony?” Gloria asked.

“Because despite my shock and confusion, I discovered that watching my mother in harness was an incredible turn on,” Kate stated flatly. “I couldn’t get to sleep that night and when I finally did fall asleep I dreamt about being in harness.”

“You dreamt about yourself in harness?” Audrey asked.

“Yes,” Kate answered. “This went on night after night and it became an obsession with me. All I could think about was wearing harness. I become so wrought up that I couldn’t enjoy regular sex anymore.”

“Well, I think we can all understand that,” Number Three said sympathetically. Everyone nodded.

“One morning Mom told Dad that she might be home late that evening because she was showing a property. Somehow I just knew that she was meeting her lover, so I followed her again.”

“To the same place?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“Mom came out of the barn naked and he put her in harness,” Kate said. “Then he exercised her by running around the meadow several times.”

“Sounds like the same thing he did the first time,” Gloria commented.

“Yes, but after cooling her off he tied her spread between two trees.”

“Ah, sexy,” Number Three said.

“Very sexy,” Kate agreed wryly. “He pulled her arms so tight that she was lifted off her feet. Then he tied her feet so far apart that I didn’t think a forty four year old woman could stretch that wide.”

“Oooh,” Number Two whispered.

“Then he left her there for over an hour while he worked around the barn,” Kate went on.

“Then what?”

“He walked over and played with her pussy until she was shrieking for him to stop,” Kate answered.

“A lot of men just don’t know when to stop,” Gloria said “Especially when the woman is tied up.”

“Yes, isn’t it wonderful?” Three asked.

“Shhh, I want to hear Kate’s story,” Gloria said.

“After he made Mom come he left her hanging for the rest of the afternoon, then he untied her and they went into the barn,” Kate said. “They were inside for a long time so I went back to my car and drove home.”

“Mom and I went to the movies that night and she was so happy and contented that I wanted to scream,” Kate said. “I wanted someone to take control of me, to humiliate me and to fuck me out of my mind.”

There were a lot of agreeing nods.

“When I went back to college I wanted my boyfriend to bend me over a rail and fuck me.”

“Did you ask him to?” Audrey asked.

“No, I didn’t have the courage,” Kate said.

More sympathetic nods.

“I felt dirty for wanting to be a slave,” Kate said. “And I was afraid that he would be disgusted if he found out my dirty secret.”

“Did you talk about bondage with him?” I asked.

“No, he was a decent young man and I just knew that he wouldn’t respect me if I told him what I wanted.”

“Are you sure about that?” Gloria asked gently. “We know a lot of masters who are decent men.”

“I know that now,” Kate shrugged. “But I was confused and ashamed, so I broke up with him. I’m sure he’s forgotten me and married some nice girl.”

“Are you sure?”

“My self esteem went through the floor,” Kate said. “And I felt too dirty for decent men so I dated the worst men I could find. I became a slut.”

“How did you end up here?” Audrey asked.

“In my obsession I bought porn books and videos about pony life and went to dominants and paid them to put me in harness. Eventually I heard about the farm and came here.”

“Do your parents know about the farm?”

“Mom does. I went home on my first furlough and I sat her down and told her that I was a pony slave.”

“How did she react to that?” Gloria interrupted.

“She was surprised, but she took it calmly,” Kate said. “Somehow she sensed that I knew about her. She listened as I told her about joining the farm, then she quietly told me that she couldn’t be too upset because she was a pony slave herself.”

“Incredible.” Susan breathed. “Did you tell her that you’d seen her in harness?”

“No, I didn’t tell her about that until years later.

“We talked honestly and she told me about the affair. How she and her master had a strictly business relationship at first, but over time they grew close and eventually became lovers.

“Mom made no excuses. I knew about my father’s drinking and many affairs and was actually surprised to hear that she hadn’t cheated on him until she met her master. Mom is a beautiful woman and she had many opportunities, but she never slept with another man until she fell in love with her master. 

“She explained that the marriage went on because neither she nor Dad wanted a divorce. Oddly enough they still like each other but are no longer lovers. She tolerates his drinking and mistresses and he doesn’t seem to want to know about what she does in private.”

“Was she seeking a bondage master?” Number Three asked.

“No, it just turned out that he is into bondage. He was honest with her and he told her about his preferences. She didn’t mind and after the affair began she let him tie her up.”

“Was she into bondage?” Gloria asked gently.

“No, Mom had never experienced anything like that but she wanted to please him.”

“And she liked it, right?” Susan asked.

“She loved it,” Kate said. “They’d been together only a few weeks before he put her into harness.”

“Was he already a pony master?”

“He had played around with pony sex with a previous girlfriend,” Kate said. “But he didn’t live the lifestyle.”

“And how did your Mom take to it?”

“She loved it from the very first time. She felt open and free and sexy.”

“We all know that feeling,” Gloria said. The room buzzed with agreement.

“Mom isn’t like the rest of us though,” Kate said. “She isn’t an exhibitionist and would never want to be seen by anyone but her lover.”

“So no public auctions or dressage performances?” Audrey asked.

“Absolutely not,” Kate said. She looked at Audrey. “Its almost too bad because my Mom is a lot like you. You would make a perfect show team.”

Audrey was flattered.

“What about torture?” someone asked. “It sounds like she likes nipple clamps.”

“She likes mild pain and she tolerates a few things for the sake of her master, but she’s not a masochist like most of us are.”

“Like ALL of us are,” Debbie laughed.

“True,” Kate shrugged. “And her master isn’t a terrible sadist. She’s set her limits and he doesn’t try to exceed them.”

“Oh, how dull,” Number Three joked.

“How far do you think your Mother would go to please her master?” Susan asked. “Would she submit to the things we do?”

Kate shook her head. “I don’t think so. She loves her master but her submission is physical not moral. She will only go so far when comes to giving up her dignity.”  

“What does your mother think about the farm? Gloria asked.

“She isn’t happy about me being here. She feels that being a pony for your lover is wonderful, but being a sex slave for anyone and everyone is immoral.”

“Ouch,” Number Three said.

“After I’d been here a few months Mistress Karen allowed me to invite Mom for a visit. Mistress Karen gave her a tour of the farm.”

“Was she tempted to join?” Gloria asked.

“No, Mom’s pony status is a personal matter between herself and her master, not a public lifestyle. She understands my desire for bondage and submission, she just thinks it ought to be private.”

“Does she know what really goes on here?” Susan asked.

“Yes, Mistress Karen made it quite clear,” Kate said.

“How did your mother react?”

“Mom understands my need for torture,” Kate said. “She is prepared to tolerate having a masochist for a daughter, but lesbian sex is another matter.”

“Uh oh,” I said.

“Yeah,” Kate said. “So I downplay that part, in fact I told her that we don’t have to submit to women unless we want to.”

“Did she believe you?”

“I think so, at least, she acts like she does.” 

“Do you like those things?” Audrey asked.

“I like pain,” Kate said. “And I obey when I’m given to a woman.”

“Just obey?”

Kate nodded. “I do what I must.”   

“Your Mother is a lucky woman to have found a master she loves,” Number Four said wistfully. “I envy her.”

“Do you get along with him?”

“We’re ok. He knows that I am aware that they are lovers.” 

“Does he know that you are a pony?”

“Heavens no, he thinks I’m a nice girl.”

“You are a nice girl,” Gloria reminded her kindly.

Kate shrugged. “Maybe, but I’d love to walk in the room wearing harness and see the expression on his face.”

“What about your father? Does your he know you’re a pony girl?” Donna asked.

“No, he thinks I have a job here in California.”

“Are you happy here?” Audrey asked.

“Kate shrugged. “I like it well enough, but I hope that someday I will meet a master who will take me home and love me.”

Later Audrey and I talked. “I don’t think that Kate is here for the right reasons.” Audrey said.

“What do you mean?”

“She sounds like one of those men who run away to the French Foreign Legion to hide from life.”

“I think her issues stem from the shock of seeing her mother topple off her pedestal,” I said. “And from the envy of seeing her climb to a higher one.”

“Getting excited watching her mother in harness might have something to do with it too,” Audrey observed. “But that comment about showing herself to him in harness is very serious.”

“Do you thing she wants to get even with her mother by stealing her lover away?”

“Or to prove that she is a better pony girl.”

“That’s possible,” I agreed. “But make no mistake, I’ve known her long enough to know that she does like living here.”

Audrey shrugged doubtfully.

“She’s definitely a masochist,” I said. “I’ve seen her have enough orgasms under torture to know. And though she says she doesn’t like sex with women, I know from personal experience that she’s either lying or she’s a very good actress.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, Kate and I have been tied together several times.”

“Really?”

“Yes, for the entertainment of guests, and believe me, she has a very talented and enthusiastic tongue.”

“Has she indeed.”

“If you ever get double crossed with Kate I think you would enjoy the experience.”

“Really? Is she as good as you?”

“No one is as good as me,” I said kissing her. “But by all means, find out for yourself.”

“Well someday I hope she meets her dream master,” Audrey said a moment later.

“I think she ought to look up her old boyfriend and knock on his door,” I said.

“Naked in harness?” Audrey chuckled.

“Naked in harness.”

Number One Pony

TEAM NAMES

Audrey and I talked later about pictures.

“How would it be possible for me to pose for pictures in harness?” she asked. “It would be so exciting but it would be absolutely horrible if the pictures got out and someone were to recognize me.”

“There are lots of ways to disguise you,” I told her. “Anything from a slave hood to a simple blindfold. You’d be amazed at how that makes a woman unrecognizable.”

She looked doubtful.

“Remember your training harness with the blinders and nose strap?”

“Yes.”

“Trust me, no one would be able to identify you in that.”

She thought it over. “Do you think the mistresses would allow me to pose for pornography?”

“Of course they would.”

“They would?”

“Certainly. Most of us here have been photographed.”

“Everyone?”

“Yep.”

“I mean serious pornography,” Audrey insisted. “As vulgar and disgusting as possible.”

“Are you thinking about the professor posing with a dildo up her pussy?”

“Exactly.”

“Would you like to model by yourself, or would you prefer something on the order of being screwed by one male while sucking the cock of a second and masturbating two others?” I asked innocently. “Would that be vulgar and disgusting enough?”

“Ooh, I’d love that,” she shook herself, making her breasts jiggle. “If only I could.”

I grinned at her until her eyes widened.

“Oh no!” she gasped, “You haven’t. . .”

“Oh yes I have,” I laughed.

“But how could they do that to you?” she asked.

“Well, they bent me over a spanking frame and the first male shoved his penis inside me, then . .”

“No, no, no. I mean how could they force you to pose for a camera?”

“No one forced me, we are never forced to model, it would violate our privacy and Mistress Karen is absolutely fanatical about protecting that. It’s the only thing that we cannot be compelled to do,” I said. “I volunteered to be photographed.”

“No kidding?”

“Yes, we have to agree in writing in advance to be photographed,” I said. “By law the photographers won’t participate until we sign a document called a model’s release, and the pictures can’t be published without it.”

“Do you think my pictures might get published?” she asked hopefully.

“I thought that you were afraid of that?”

“Not if my face is unrecognizable. I would be thrilled to know that people were looking at pictures of me, so long as no one knew who I was.”

“Yes, there is always a chance your pictures could get published. It’s just a matter of selling them to a publisher who would want to put them in a magazine.”

“How do I go about getting them to take my picture? Would the accountant do it?”

“No, Mary isn’t a professional photographer, but just ask Mistress Eve if any photographers are scheduled to come to the farm soon, they might be able to work you in.”

“How many times have you modeled?”

“Scores of times,” I answered. “The publishers like me and so do their customers. I get fan mail sometimes.”

“How do they know who to write to? Do they have your address here?”

“They write to the publisher who forwards them to the farm,” I said. “Believe me, modeling is quite routine here. Don’t be afraid to volunteer.”

“Ok, I’ll do it,” she said.

“By they way, did we really have a pony girl named Buttercup?”

“Yes, it was an idea that Mistress Dina came up with,” I said. “She thought it would be fun to give all the ponies cute nicknames. Not only that, but she decided to have each team’s names begin with the same letter.”

“Really?”

“Yes. At one time we had a team tamed, Beauty, Billie, Buttercup and Boobie.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!”

“Yep, and we had another team with Cutie, Chrissie, Candy and Carla.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t name one of those girls Cuntie,” Audrey snorted.

“Good point,” I said. “I don’t know why they didn’t think of that, but Mistress Dina took the concept one step further.”

“What did she do?”

“She decided to dye the teams hair the same color.”

“What?”

“We had a team of redheads, one of blondes, another of brunettes, and so on,” I told her.

“You must be kidding! Who would put up with that?”

“Oh, no one objected,” I said. “Most slaves just want to blend in to the woodwork and relish giving up their individuality.”

“Yes, I think I see your point.” Audrey considered this for a moment. “Why did they get away from the practice?”

“Teams don’t always stay together,” I explained. “Once in a while some ponies have to leave and they move different people around. It got confusing when a pony girl’s name was changed every time she moved to another team.”

“Why do people leave?”

“Lots of reasons. Some change their minds about the lifestyle, some offer themselves to be sold, like Buttercup did, others decide to go to a different location.”

“Different locations?”

“Yes, a couple of women asked to be sold to the ranch in Texas and one lady decided that she preferred to live on a male dominated farm. Occasionally there are other factors that make people leave.”

“What do you mean?”

“One woman had to leave to care for her father after he had a stroke. She stays in touch and wants to return someday.

“One of the males left because his father and grandfather were killed in the crash of a corporate airplane and he had to take over running the family business.”

“Oh, too bad. Tell me more.”

“Hmm, let’s see, one married couple came expecting to live together in the same stable. They were disappointed to learn that the males and females are segregated so they eventually left.”

“You had a married couple? Incredible.”

“We’ve had more than one,” I said. “Another couple joined the farm but the wife wasn’t as submissive as her husband. In fact, she didn’t care very much for our lifestyle but he loved it. He was very submissive, especially to other men.”

“Was he gay?”

“It turned out that he was and his wife wasn’t happy when she found out. She decided to leave and he chose to stay.”

“What happened?”

“She returned home and got a divorce. As soon as she was gone his mask came off and he turned into the most simpering, submissive male we’ve ever had.”

“Is he still here?”

“No, he was sold to a male only ranch in Arizona. I hear that he’s quite happy there.”

“Any more married slaves?” Audrey asked.

“Sort of. On of the mistresses fell in love with a pony boy and they left to live together, but I don’t know if they ever got married.”

“Did they get out the pony life?’

“No, he’s still her slave and she rents him out to clients. We see them when she brings him to rodeos and pony shows.”

“How many people have lived here?” Audrey asked.

“I don’t know the exact number,” I said. “But I’d guess that we’ve had well over a hundred permanent slaves since I’ve been here. And we’ve had staff come and go too.”

“Staff?” 

“A pair of mistresses left and opened their own dominance parlor in Washington DC. Apparently they make a fortune there. And another mistress left and opened her own ranch in Costa Rica. In addition to training pony boys she makes a fortune off clients who pick coffee beans in harness.”

“Coffee beans?’

“She bought a small coffee plantation. This isn’t the only farm which uses ponies for labor.”

“I’ve been to Costa Rica,” Audrey said. “Its a lovely country.”

“Now you know where to go on vacation,” I said.

“Oh no, I’m coming back here every chance I get.”

I gave her a hug.

“Getting back to the names,” she said. “Did you have a team name?”

“Yes, I was called Annie,” I told her. “And officially I’m still Annie on the stable rolls.”

“So you were on the A team?”

“Yes, I was with Angie and two other girls names Abbie and Auntie.”

“Auntie? Why Auntie?”

“She was an older woman. She was in her forties and she was the team lead. I learned a lot from her.”

“What became of her?”

“Her daughter became an alcoholic and she had to leave to raise her grandchildren. She wants to return too, as soon as they are grown.”

“What about the names we use now?”

“Some people pick a name to be used, others actually use their real first names, and some of us are called by our numbers.”

“Do they call you Number One because you are the best?” she asked.

“Yes, I think so,” I said proudly.

“What’s your real name?”

“Beth.”

“The mistresses like you,” she said. “I’ve heard them talking.”

“Careful or you’ll make me blush.”

“I didn’t pick the name Audrey,” she said. “I suppose Mistress Karen did.”

“No, actually I was the one who called you that, the first night you were here.”

“You did, why?”

“Because you reminded me of Audrey Hepburn.”

“I’m flattered,” she said. “She was a beautiful woman.”

“And a great pony girl too.”

“What?”

“Just kidding.”

 

Mistress Karen didn’t purchase Big Boy. His owner wanted too much money, but they did work out a barter arrangement where we got to keep him for a few weeks and Mistress Domicilla took four of our males in exchange.

Much to the indignation of the other mistresses Mistress Karen kept Big Boy all to herself. She rode him every day and kept him in her room every night. However, she did treat everyone to watching her flog him in the barnyard a few times. Apparently she discovered that when he started to wear out it only took a few hours torture to perk him up, and being punished in front of a lot of women really did the trick. His penis would be huge by the time she finished whipping him.

I don’t want to characterize our beloved Mistress Karen as an insatiable nymphomaniac, but by the time the swap was over Big Boy had lost weight and seemed a little shaky on his legs, however when he was taken away in a horse trailer he stared back at Mistress Karen with big sad eyes until he was out of sight.

When our males returned they were bleary eyed and exhausted too. It turns out that Mistress Domicilla hadn’t gotten completely out of the business. Aside from her own enjoyment, she held auctions every night and rented our boys to her customers for some rather tidy sums. They were so worn out when we got them back that they were useless for work for several days.

AUDREY DECIDES TO POSE

Audrey was given permission to pose for pictures. A photographer was scheduled to come the following week and when Mistress Karen called and offered Audrey he agreed to take some test shots. He drove out to the farm and looked Audrey over, and accepted her on the spot. They had a long talk and Mistress Karen negotiated the contract for Audrey.

Audrey was surprised that she was going to be paid. She assumed that she would pose for free.

“No way,” I told her. “Mistress Karen charges for the use of the farm and for the use of her ponies, no matter what they use us for.”

“Even just posing for pictures?”

“Especially for posing,” I told her. “It’s a lucrative business and the photographers make a lot of money selling our pictures to bondage magazines.”

“I had no idea,” Audrey said.

“There are literally dozens of bondage magazines that use our pictures,” I said. “And there’s a publisher in Germany and another in England that specialize in the pony lifestyle, and they often send their photographers here for shoots. They prefer real life ponies to professional models.”

“Are there a lot of real pony girls around the country?” Audrey asked.

“Tens of thousands around the world,” I told her.

“Wow.”

“Anyway, getting back to your pay, part of the money goes to the farm’s general fund and part goes to you,” I told her. “Mistress Karen will put it in your account.”

“What account?”

“Oh, I forgot, you’re a temporary,” I said. “Temps don’t usually get accounts, they aren’t here that long.”   

“Permanent ponies have financial accounts?” Audrey asked.

“Of course,” I said. “They’re primarily for our retirement, but we need money for furloughs or when we get a day off and want to go to town.”

“I thought we were slaves,” Audrey said.

“Sure, but we still need money.”

“And you have a retirement plan?”

“Yes.”

“Has anyone ever retired?”

“Not yet. No one has been her long enough.”

She thought for a moment. “I just had a terrible image of a stable full of ninety year old women sitting around in harness.”

“I had a worse image,” I said. “A bunch of naked old males in harness.”

“Eeyew!”

Mistress Karen ordered a special mask for Audrey. It covered her upper face with horizontal bands of metal in a black leather helmet. The first sketches looked like a baseball catcher’s mask, but they worked on it until it looked sexy and feminine. It concealed her eyes and nose but left her mouth exposed, and she could still see where she was going.

A man who does all of our leather gear made the mask. He lives across the valley and is quite a craftsman in leather and metal. His name is Lou and over the years he has created some wonderful designs.

Mistress Karen pays him handsomely and he also has free use of all of the slave girls. He’s an older man but he’s quite strong and virile and has a terrific imagination. We all enjoy being picked by him, but Gloria is his favorite.

Lou and Gloria are friends and he made a special set of harness as a gift for her tenth anniversary.

Gloria’s special harness is black patent leather decorated with silver buckles and trim, complete from horseshoe boots to a helmet with a horsehair crest. The harness was his idea and he made it for free, and Gloria was so touched that she cried when he presented it to her.

Mistress Karen was delighted and paraded Gloria in front of the entire farm, then she gave her to Lou for an entire week.

Gloria looks absolutely stunning in it and Mistress Karen allows her to wear it on weekends and special occasions.

I got a presentation set too. Mistress Karen liked the idea of rewarding long service, so for my tenth anniversary she ordered a special harness for me. Lou made mine of rich reddish brown leather that matches my hair. I didn’t want any ornamentation but he added some anyway. He made the metal fittings out of high gloss red metal and they are almost invisible against the red leather, until they catch the light and sparkle.

Lou is also an amateur jewel maker and he added a replica of my brand to the collar and to the front of my helmet: a turquoise heart inside a golden horseshoe. Everyone tells me that the turquoise matches my eyes perfectly.

I spent three days at his place while he made my harness. He took his time and fitted every thing perfectly, in fact he took my measurements over and over and over, until he was satisfied that he’d gotten it right. Then he measured me again. He spent a lot of time examining my brand while he fashioned the jewelry. During breaks he screwed me half silly. 

Gloria and I are permitted to keep our harness in our stalls, and he taught us how to polish leather like they do in the military. I never touch the leather unless I’m wearing soft cotton gloves and I keep it so shiny that I can see my reflection in it. About once a month Mistress Eve puts me into it and I get to wear my lovely personal harness all weekend. 

Since then Mistress Karen has made it a tradition to present each pony with a special harness after ten year’s service. She holds a ceremony and makes a big deal of buckling the harness onto the slave in front of everyone. Each set is unique and the pony is permitted to have a say in the color and design. It’s a proud day for a pony slave when he or she receives a personal set of harness.

Audrey didn’t get a custom set of leather of course, just the mask, but we have enough fancy sets in the tack room to provide her with a very sexy outfit. Mistress Karen took the time to personally select Audrey’s harness. She even picked out a dressage costume.

Audrey’s costume was a stiff red leather bustier with silver buckles, red opera gloves, red high heels and a silver headpiece with enough scarlet plumes to make a Las Vegas chorus line envious. Mistress Karen also took the time to train her in the outfit, especially the shoes. I got a chance to watch Audrey marching around the paddock and she looked delicious.

       THE AMATUER PLOWMAN

When the photographer arrived he brought a couple of assistants and several models with him. He decided to photograph Audrey first.

He started with her alone in her fancy costume. He shot her in all sorts of poses and in all sorts of locations.

While this was going on his models got bored and wandered around the farm. Two of the men strolled out to where my team was plowing, leaned on the fence and watched us work. They were big, muscular, and very handsome, and Mistress Eve flirted outrageously with them.

So did we. We wiggled and jiggled as much as we dared and Mistress Eve let us get away with it (she was busy doing the same thing). They returned her interest but also seemed fascinated with us. During a break they wandered over and struck up a conversation with her.

They asked a lot of questions about ponies and she was happy to explain. She stood us at attention and showed them how our harness worked. They tugged on the leather and tested the buckles, and of course their hands occasionally brushed our breasts or bottoms. They were surprised to see that our hands were bound while we worked.

Mistress Eve showed them how to drive a team and allowed them to handle our reins. They took turns walking us along a furrow. They were clumsy and caused us to stumble and lurch and we used the opportunity for an excuse to jiggle our boobs.

Mistress Eve offered to show them around the farm while we took a break. One of the men accepted her offer but the other chose to stay with us. We were astonished when she handed him our reins and walked away arm in arm with the other man.

Oh well, she left us alone with a handsome man and we expected him to have fun with us. After all, he was a porn actor and should have all sorts of stamina and we hoped he could screw all four of us. Instead the idiot actually tried to plow the field!

He got behind the plow and flipped the reins on my shoulders. I looked back at him in astonishment. He flipped the reins again and said: “Giddyup.”

The girls looked at me in dismay and indignation. I shrugged and we started off. The girls complained, in our silent, secret language but he was so intent on plowing that he wouldn’t have noticed if we’d yelled at the top of our voices.

“Isn’t he going to fuck us?” Number Two asked astonished.

“I don’t think so,” I answered.

“What’s the matter with him?” Three demanded. “I hoped he would bend us over the fence and screw us all.”

“I think he’s more interested in how pony girls plow a field,” Four said.

“Humph, I could show him other things pony girls can do,” Two muttered.

“I don’t think he’s ever been around real pony girls,” I said. “I think we’re a novelty to him.”

“What an idiot,” Four grumbled.

He tried to control us but he had no idea what he was doing. I could have helped him but I was insulted that he didn’t throw me to the ground and rape me. Who did he think he was?

He had us jerking from side to side and over corrected with the reins. We were annoyed and when he turned us the wrong way at the end of a furrow Number Three deliberately stepped over the traces and things became hopeless.

He tried to get us straight but we just played dumb. He told us to move this way or that but we ignored him and stared vacantly into space. The more he tried to straighten us out the worse it got. He tried to lift our feet over the traces but we just shuffled around more. Then he decided to unhook us from the plow. This didn’t work because as soon as we were loose we began wandering away in different directions. He chased after Number Four, tried to hold her by the shoulders and guide her back, but she turned into the dumbest pony on Earth and just couldn’t seem to understand. He finally spoke slowly and loudly as if he was speaking to someone who didn’t understand English. Four stopped and stared off into space. He noticed that Three and I were wandering away so he hurried after us. He actually pleaded in baby talk, as if he was talking to a puppy. Three stopped, cocked her head quizzically and looked at him. I kept walking.

He chased me down, turned me gently by my shoulders and I obediently walked toward the team. Number Two came up with the best trick though. She walked into the fence, bounced off, backed up and bounced off again. Each time she’d shake herself, which got her boobs moving, then try again. The guy ran to her and tried to explain that she couldn’t do that. She ignored him and kept bumping into the fence. Finally he grabbed her harness from behind and pulled her back. She dug in her heels, glared at the fence and snorted loudly. I was biting my tongue to keep from laughing.

He finally realized that he could control us through our harness, so he went to Three, who still looked at him with that puzzled expression, took hold of her collar ring and led her back to the plow. Then he brought me and Four back. He stood us in a line and tried to figure out how to reconnect us to the plow.

He fumbled around muttering to himself. Finally in exasperation he said: “How the hell does this thing work?”

“Well, first you have to put us in two pairs,” I said. “Not four abreast. Then you attach the traces to the rings on the sides of our belts.”

His mouth dropped open. “I’ll be dammed. You can talk.”

Number Three stepped close to him and looked up into his face still wearing her idiot blonde expression and said: “Of course we can talk, you silly man. We aren’t real horses, you know.”

“Oh.”

I lost it and shrieked with laughter. So did the others. Three laughed so hard that her legs gave way and she plopped on the ground. Four had tears streaming down her face, and Two had to lean against the fence. The man stared at us for a moment, then grinned sheepishly.

Mistress Eve peered around the curve in the road. She stepped back, then reappeared buttoning her shirt. She walked back to us but her companion wasn’t with her. She looked at us, the mess that was our harness, then at the man.

He shrugged and tried to explain what had happened. We were still laughing so she restored discipline by whipping us (literally) into line. Her first blow got me across my breasts and I quickly moved into position. I tried to stop laughing but just couldn’t, so Mistress Eve gave me a dozen sharp smacks with whip. I finally managed to assume the proper posture and she turned her attention to Number Two. The man watched in sheer astonishment as she plied the whip very forcefully on each of us until we were correct and proper. Then she reattached the traces and walked us a few yards. The man stumbled after us.

“You’re really whipping them!” he gasped.

“Of course I am,” she said coldly. “This isn’t movie make believe.”

“But, but. . .”

I looked at Mistress Eve and nodded faintly. She understood perfectly. She stepped in front of me.

“Watch this,” she told him, and slashed the whip across my breasts very hard. It hurt. It hurt a lot! But I smiled, thrust my chest out and wiggled.

“Thank you mistress, May I please have another?” I got another.

Number Two offered her boobs and Mistress Eve gave her a few cuts. Then she whipped us both with a powerful sideways motion. Left, right, left, right, across our breasts. She planted her feet and swung with full force, rotating her body with each stroke. We turned our upper bodies into the whip. The pain was terrific but we stood firm. The man watched in utter amazement.

When Mistress Eve stopped he walked close and looked at the welts across our chests. He touched my breast without the slightest sexual intention. He was simply examining the red streaks left by the whip. His touch felt good.

“My God, doesn’t that hurt?” he asked me.

I looked at Mistress Eve for permission to answer. She nodded. 

“Yes, it hurts very nicely,” I replied in a low, sultry voice. “And I’m sorry she stopped. I was very close to coming.” I looked at Mistress Eve seductively.

“You were close to coming?” he repeated.

I nodded slowly and deeply.

His attitude changed from curiosity to sexual. He squeezed my breast sensuously. His other hand slipped between my legs, and his fingers wiggled under my crotch strap.

“Ah, you’re very damp,” he chuckled.

“Yes, I am.”

Mistress Eve took his hands off my body.

“Step back,” she told him. “These are my slaves.”

We all stood straighter and stuck our chests out proudly. He grinned at us condescendingly and we all took a sudden dislike to the man. Mistress Eve sensed this. She caressed my breasts.

“Did I really hurt my favorite girl?” she cooed. I stuck out my lower lip and pouted. She bent and kissed my nipples. Number Two thrust hers forward and got a sharp flick from Mistress Eve’s finger for her efforts. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you have a nice orgasm when we get back to the stables,” Mistress Eve said seductively. She looked at the rest of the team who were hopping on their toes eagerly. “Yes, I won’t forget the rest of you either.”

The man was staring wide eyed and I noticed a large bulge in his trousers. So did Mistress Eve.

“If you’re not busy at five o’clock come by the wash room and see how I treat my girls,” she told him.

She took up the reins, waved him aside and set us to plowing. He watched for a minute and then walked away.

When he was out of sight Mistress Eve looped the reins loosely over the plow and walked beside me. “What was that all about?”

“He wouldn’t screw us,” I said. “He just wanted to plow the damn field.”

“Ah, and that made you mad, right?” she laughed.

“Yes ma am.”

“Ok, tell me what you did to that poor man.”

She laughed as we told the story, but howled when we told her that he was surprised to learn that we could talk.

Sure enough he showed up at quitting time and brought the rest of the crew with him. They stood in the middle of the washroom and looked around at the bustle of mistress washing ponies, teams waiting their turn, cooks bringing out food, and single slaves (like Audrey) bringing towels and collecting harness. They were fascinated by our end of day routine and got in the way until a mistress told them to step to one side. 

True to her word Mistress Eve gave each of us terrific orgasms. She pretended to ignore our guests while she strung us tightly between the posts. Then we put on a little show as she teased our pussies with scrub brushes, vibrators, and her hand and she brought each of us to orgasm. Our orgasms were real but we played up our reaction with a lot more groaning and writhing than normal. Mistress Eve saved me for last and I was already worked up so it didn’t take very long until I was in ecstasy. I didn’t have to put on an act; I really did have a terrific orgasm. All the time other mistresses were attending to their teams, and we weren’t the only slaves getting rewarded for a day’s work.

The visitors were wide eyed and the male models were visibly excited, but one girl in particular was very aroused. Her face was bright pink and her nipples poked through the material of her blouse.

I was surprised that the porn models got so excited. I’d have thought that in their line of work nothing would surprise them but that evening Gloria told me that despite all the sex they have in front of the cameras, they probably had never witnessed so much real, unstaged sexual activity before.

“They do it for pay,” she told me. “But we live this life every day.”

 

AUDREY POSES

Audrey told us about her day as we relaxed after dinner.

“I started the day in my red costume,” she told us. “I wasn’t even in bondage at first, they left my hands free and I just posed this way and that. The photographer told me what he wanted me to do, and his assistants pushed and pulled me into the correct positions.”

“Were you naked?” I asked.

“Not at first, the only things that showed were my boobs, but eventually they took my panties off. I posed as naughty as I could.

“Eventually they locked my wrists behind my back. Mistress Jill was there to help out and they had her get in the act by holding my reins or grasping the ring on my collar. She wasn’t really in the picture; just her arm and hand appeared. Eventually they told me to kneel at her feet with my face close to her pussy.”

“Did Mistress Jill take her panties off?” I asked.

“She sure did.”

“Did you stick your tongue out?” Number Three asked.

“Actually I stuck it in,” Audrey replied.

“Oh, you lucky thing.”

“Later she put a bit in my mouth and increased my bondage. They ended up with me bent over the corral fence with my legs open.”

“How far apart did you get your legs?” Number Two asked.

“Pretty far.” 

“After that they removed my costume and changed me into a white milkmaid’s dress,” Audrey said. “Interestingly, the wardrobe girl kept my hands tied and she undressed me, then put the new costume on. She only untied me long enough to get my arms in the sleeves. She even slipped my panties on me.”

“Did she touch your pussy?” someone asked.

“No, but I got the feeling that she wanted to.”

“Then what happened?”

“They rounded up the male models and began the serious work.”

“Ooooh!” said about eight women at once.

“The scenario was simple,” Audrey said. “We went to the road near the old work shed. I was untied and pretended to walk innocently along the road when rough men leapt out of the bushes and kidnapped me. They stripped me naked, threw me on the ground and raped me.”

“For real?” Four asked.

“They weren’t going to at first,” Audrey said. “But I demanded that they screw me for real. They took turns.”

“How did you disguise your face?” Gloria asked.

“I held my hands up in horror,” Audrey said, “Or the men positioned themselves to shield my face from the camera.”

“That was nice of them,” Two commented.

“It was required in the contract,” Audrey said.

“Did all three of them fuck you?” Four asked.

“Yes.”

“Did they come?”

“Yes.”

“Did you?”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

There was a lot of laughter.

“After that they tied me up and led me away,” Audrey continued. “They took me to a deserted farmhouse where they tied me in lots of different positions.”

“Who did the tying?” someone asked.

“Mistress Jill was supposed to,” Audrey answered. “But one of the photographer’s assistants wanted to do it, so Mistress Jill stepped aside.”

“Was it the wardrobe girl?” Gloria asked.

“It sure was.”

“It sounds like she might be in dominance,” I observed.

“I think so,” Audrey said. “She sure seemed to like what she was doing.”

“Did she grope you in the process?” Number Four laughed.

“She certainly did,” Audrey answered. “Many times.”

“Lucky thing,” I said. “Did the men screw you again?”

“Yes, the girl tied me in the back of an old farm wagon with my legs open and the men got me again.”

“Taking turns?”

“Nope, all at once.”

“What?”

“They had sex with me all at the same time,” Audrey said proudly. “I had a penis up my pussy, another in my bottom and the third in my mouth.”

“Wow.”

“And after they’d spurted all over me, the assistants got me ready for the next scenario. 

“The next part of the shoot showed me in work harness being trained to be a pony,” Audrey said. “And the photographer’s girl insisted on buckling the harness on me.” (This turned out to be the girl who was so enthralled watching us while we were washed down later that day.)

“At that point one of the female models entered wearing a dominance costume and she ‘trained me’ to the plow. I was rebellious so she whipped me and supervised the men while they tortured me. Then they subjected me to another gang rape.”

“You lucky, lucky girl,” Number Two breathed. “Did everyone come again?”

“Yes. And after that I had to kneel at the feet of the mistress and lick her pussy.”

“For real?”

“Oh yes. And they took lots of close-ups of my tongue in her vagina.”

“How did they hide your face?”

“I was in the special harness mask by then.”

“Oh, yeah. Did the model come?”

“Yep.”

“Did she actually have an orgasm?” Four asked. “Or just pretend for the camera?”

“I made a real effort and saw to it that she truly had an orgasm,” Audrey said proudly. “And I don’t think she was expecting that to happen.”

“Why not?”

“Afterwards she spoke to me alone and said that the first time she didn’t have to fake an orgasm for the camera. Then she gave me her phone number and invited me to meet back in the city for a dominance session.”

“What did you say?” Gloria laughed.

“I told her that I’d love to meet her, but that I was new at licking pussies and there were women here who were much better at it than I am.” She smiled at me. ‘But I kept her telephone number, just the same.”

Four applauded, and everyone joined in.

“Was that the end of the shoot?” I asked.

“It should have been,” Audrey answered.

“Oh? What else happened?”

“The photographer put down his camera and got on top of me.”

“The photographer screwed you?” I asked aghast.

“He sure did,” Audrey said proudly. “With his whole crew watching.”

“Oh,” gasped Gloria. “How unprofessional.”

The photographer spent so much time with Audrey that they ran out of daylight and had to do their regular photo session the next day. Mistress Karen put them up in the guesthouse overnight.

The photographer and his crew worked all the following day on a simple sex scenario where the female models had sex with the men. No fetish work was involved but the wardrobe assistant took Mistress Karen aside during a break and shyly asked if she could try on a set of harness. Mistress Karen took her into the equipment barn and personally strapped the girl into leather. She hung the girl by her wrists and left her alone for a few minutes. When she came back the girl didn’t want to be released.

Mistress Karen buckled the girl into a tight pussy strap, told her to get dressed and get back to work before someone missed her. The girl spent the rest of the day with a distracted look on her face and she blushed every time she looked at Mistress Karen. The mistresses are taking bets as to how long before she shows back up on her own.

Audrey saw her photos a few days later. The photographer made a special trip with a large box full of eight by tens. He met with Audrey and Mary and he accounted for every picture he had taken. He gave up any negatives that showed her face. He also offered to pay her a substantial fee to allow him to publish the rest of the pictures.

Despite her desire to appear in a magazine, Audrey lost her nerve and initially refused his offer. Mistress Karen and Mary talked it over with her and Mary offered to act as her agent free of charge. She told Audrey that they could control which pictures would appear in print, and would see to it that her privacy was protected. So Audrey changed her mind and they spent all afternoon going over the pictures. (Audrey was in harness with her hands bound behind her back during the entire meeting. This didn’t bother her, but it seemed to distract the photographer somewhat.)

Audrey selected about sixty pictures and signed a release form. Mary made sure that the photographer understood that if he had withheld any pictures of Audrey’s face, or if any such pictures ever appeared in print Mistress Karen would bring the full force of the law down upon him. This was merely a formality, as he was known to be an ethical man.

The photographer gave Audrey a substantial check. She promptly signed the check over to Mistress Karen, donating it to the farm. She didn’t want the money; she just hoped that someday she would see herself in a bondage magazine.

She brought the pictures to the stable and showed them to us. The pictures of her in costume were sweet and sexy but more like cheesecake pics. She looked adorable in her plumes and could have easily taken her place on stage in a Las Vegas review.

However, the hard core pictures were fantastic, especially the rape and torture scenes. We all got excited looking at them, and everyone was awed at pictures of Audrey with three penises in her body at the same time. No one else had ever experienced that, not even Gloria, and we were all envious.

Afterwards Mistress Jill put the box in Audrey’s locker.

“I wonder if I should ship the pictures to myself,” Audrey asked. “I don’t think I want my son to see them when he comes for me.”

“Mary can see to that for you,” Mistress Jill told her. “Now get to your feet and put your hands behind your back.”

“Ma am?”

“The photographer is staying here until tomorrow,” Mistress Jill said as she strapped Audrey’s wrists together. “And he’s bought you for the night.”

As it turned out, she did see herself in print. The pictures appeared in a magazine a year later. The photographer called Mary and she relayed the news to Audrey. Audrey went to a porn shop and bought every copy in the store and sent us copies. (I’d love to know what the other customers thought when they saw that elegant, well dressed lady buying a stack of bondage magazines.) 

PANAMA PATTY

Panama Patty

Audrey was tired and bleary eyed the next morning. Apparently the photographer didn’t let her get much sleep. He tied her to the bed and screwed her many times during the night. A couple of times she was asleep and woke to feel his weight on her body and his cock inside her. (Apparently he is quite virile.) She didn’t complain though, she enjoyed it all.

He also offered her a contract to be a professional model and promised that she could make a fortune, especially if she was willing to show her face.

She was flattered but turned him down, so he offered to buy her permanently. Audrey pretended to be interested, but warned him that she was insatiable so if he bought her he’d have to be able to concentrate on sex every day, several times a day, and he wouldn’t have time for anything else. That got him excited and he crawled on top of her again.

When he finished with that bout she told him that if he wanted to buy her permanently she would include a clause in the contract that guaranteed that he must satisfy her sexually and if he failed to do so, then he would have to return her to the farm and forfeit the purchase money.

He thought it over and reluctantly decided that he probably shouldn’t purchase her after all. He fucked her one last time just as the sun was coming up and she had barely fallen asleep when a house pony came to awaken her. She ate a hurried breakfast and joined us as we were being harnessed up.

She was exhausted and bravely tried to pull her share, but we could see how beat she was. She fell asleep during the first break and Mistress Eve didn’t wake her. She rigged the rest of us in a troika and we finished the field. 

Audrey slept for a couple of hours, then woke just before lunch. She scrambled to her feet and stood at attention with an embarrassed look on her face. When we passed close Mistress Eve motioned for Audrey to sit back down. Audrey obeyed but her body language told of her mortification.

After lunch Audrey leapt to her feet and was first in position to be harnessed up. Mistress Eve was very kind and patted her on the bottom when she buckled the traces to Audrey’s harness.

“I’m so sorry,” Audrey murmured as we pulled the plow.

“Don’t worry,” I told her. “We saw how tired you were.”

“Yeah, it’s ok,” Three whispered.

“Uh huh,” Two added.

Audrey blinked back a tear, then raised her head proudly.

After a few days they took Audrey off my team and put my usual girls back. She was paired with Gloria pulling the lunch cart. Two ponies aren’t needed for that job; it was just a way for Audrey to spend time with Gloria and to see the entire farm.

The first evening they were together, Audrey and Gloria were displayed as a pair at a dinner party. To Audrey’s intense indignation, Mistress Karen introduced them as the ‘granny ponies’. All the guests wanted to buy them for the night and the auction became rather heated. The granny ponies were sold for quite a lot of money.

They were bought by a married couple who took them to their room and made them act out several lesbian scenarios before the man and his wife took one each to bed.

They were both tired the next morning, but the lunch cart doesn’t start its rounds until eleven, so they snuck away to one of Gloria’s hiding places and took a nap.

After a couple of days Audrey was assigned to pull the seed spreader. She confided to me that she preferred pulling a plow because the spreader was too light and easy.

I smiled when she said that. I looked at her body; she was trim and fit, her legs had toned up and her tummy had flattened.

“You are nicely firmed up,” I said. “It reminds me of something Gloria said to the effect that a working pony farm would be the best place in the world to lose weight.”

“If Karen were to turn this place into a fat farm she’d make a fortune,” Audrey agreed. “Think of the ways we could motivate the customers to lose weight.”

“Such as?”

“An orgasm for every pound they drop,” she said. “And a whipping if they don’t lose.”

“Some of them might be masochists,” I said. “What if they like being whipped?”

“Then they could earn a dozen strokes for every pound lost,” she replied instantly. “Two forms of positive motivation.”

“Ah, I see,” I said. “And after they’ve reached their goal?”

“We auction them off to the male guests. And the girls who’s lost the most weight gets to be used by several men.”

“What if they aren’t nymphomaniacs?” I asked. “Like some people I know.”

She smiled sweetly at me.

“What if they are happy with just one man?” I continued.

“Too bad. They have to have an orgy, whether they like it or not.”

“Poor things.”

“To stimulate the bidding we could show before and after videos of fat naked women struggling in harness on the first day, and then trotting past the camera slim and fit after only a few weeks. Like those before and after make over shows on television.”

“Now, that might just work,” I agreed. “Lot’s of men like the story of the ugly duckling.”

“I think you should mention it to Mistress Karen,” Audrey said.

As Audrey’s time drew near to ending she spent more evenings talking to the other ponies about their past experiences and how they came to be here. I introduced her to Panama Patty who was a number two on another team. Audrey had been on the farm long enough to hear Patty’s story with more understanding. It’s not a story we tell to brand new girls.

Panama Patty sat with us after dinner and related how she became a pony girl. Everyone crowded round to listen.

“How did you get the name?” Audrey asked when they were introduced.

“I got it because I was enslaved in Panama,” Patty answered. “I lived on a pony ranch down there for over a year, and it wasn’t by consent.”

“Not by consent?” Audrey asked. “Then why did you do it?”

“I had no choice,” Patty said. “I was kidnapped.”

“For real? I thought kidnapping was just a common slave girl fantasy.”

“It is, for those who have never been truly kidnapped,” Patty replied. “When it’s real it is very frightening.”

“What happened?”

“I was working as a model in New York,” Patty said. (By the way, Patty is strikingly beautiful and no one can look at her and doubt that she was a model). “I did lingerie modeling and got offered lots of money to do porn work but I always turned it down. I wouldn’t even do frontal topless pictures. My agent introduced me to a man from Central America whose name was Fernando Villa. He told me that he was a real estate developer and wanted me to pose for ads in front of some luxury houses. He told me that many of the shots would be in bikinis and ‘tasteful nudity’ on the beach, but I wouldn’t have to show too much. He offered an enormous fee and promised that after the shoot I could stay as his guest for a few weeks and live in one of the mansions. I assumed that my agent had checked the guy out so I accepted.”

“Uh oh,” someone said.

“Yep,” Patty agreed. “When I went down to Panama everything was just as I’d been told. They put me up in a beautiful house with servants, a chauffeured car, lots of expensive clothes and jewelry.”

“Didn’t you see what he was up to?” Audrey asked.

“Of course I did. I’d been propositioned by wealthy men since I first became a model,” Patty said. “And some times I accepted the propositions, if I liked the guy. But I was in no mood to become the trophy girlfriend to a chubby Panamanian twerp with an inflated ego.”

“What happened?”

“I managed to fend him off. After the photo shoots were completed I asked for my plane ticket to New York. He told me that I’d have it the next morning. That night my food was drugged and I woke up in a pony girl stable somewhere in the mountains.”

“Wow.”

“I woke up naked in a locked horse stall. I screamed for somebody to let me out but I was ignored. Finally a man showed up, told me to be quiet and gave me some breakfast. I demanded to be released and wouldn’t be quiet so he opened the door, yanked me out, tied my wrists to a beam over my head and whipped me.”

“My God.”

“That was the first time I’d been whipped and believe me, I did not find it to be erotic.”

“Go on,” Audrey whispered.

“They left me hanging all morning,” Patty said. “Then took me down and raped me.”

“They, as in more than one man?” Audrey asked.

“They, as in four men.”

“Good God.”

“They threw me back in my cell and when I screamed for help I was taken out and whipped again. I thought I was in a nightmare.

“I lay on a cot and watched them train and torture other girls,” Patty continued. “And when the guards finished with them, they came for me again.”

“You resisted them?” Audrey asked.

“Yes, until I couldn’t take any more.

“I was whipped and screwed every day,” Patty went on. “Until I was broken. I tried to resist but they had perfected the skill of making women into slaves. I eventually became a whimpering slave girl. After that they trained me to harness.”

“Were you still sexually assaulted?”

“Of course,” Patty snorted. “Every day, several times a day, by a staff of stable masters. They screwed me during my training and any other time they felt like it. It’s awful, but being treated like a piece of meat does wonders to lower a woman’s self esteem. After a while I accepted everything they did to me.

“The stable had eight other girls in it and I watched and learned from them. I became submissive and learned to obey every command instantly, whether it was to pull a cart or to drop to my knees and suck a cock.

“My world became a routine of sleep, sex, punishment and pony training. As I became more docile the sex increased and the punishment lessened. Living like that does something to your head. My world shrank, I thought less and less about my family and friends back home and I actually became brainwashed into wanting to please the stable masters. After basic pony training pulling carts and chariots I was taught dressage. I worked very hard to be a good pony girl. I became so conditioned that I even practiced in my stall.

“After some weeks, Fernando showed up, watched me perform, and decided that I was properly trained, so he took me to his home.”

“Where was that?”

“It was a mansion on the outskirts of Panama City,” Patty said. “It was surrounded by a huge wall and patrolled by security guards, which is very common down there, so there is excellent privacy to keep slaves without anyone noticing.

“Fernando was a sadistic little twerp and insisted that we call him Don Fernando. We had to bow or curtsey and beg him to fuck us. He loved to humiliate us and if he snapped his fingers we had to bend over and spread our asses with our hands.”

“How many were you?”

“Four pony girls,” Patty said. “But there was a house full of other female slaves who cooked and cleaned, did the laundry and so on. They all went naked or wore skimpy costumes and they were just as submissive and abused as we were. Don Fernando liked torturing women and looked for any excuse to whip one of the house servants. If he didn’t have an excuse he made one up.”

“Did you have to work?” Audrey asked.

“No, we pony girls were for display only. Don Fernando liked to entertain and we put on shows for his guests. We would greet visitors wearing our harness and standing at attention in the foyer. He had a large outdoor dining area and we performed while they ate.”

“What about racing, or other competitions?”

“Yes, we had to do that,” Patty said. “We would be taken back to the stable in the mountains for race meets. I wasn’t a fast runner so I wasn’t entered into the real races.”

“Were you punished for that?”

“Oddly enough, I wasn’t,” she said. “Don Fernando knew that I tried very hard so he didn’t punish me for being slow. What I did do was to trot around giving rides to his guests in a chariot.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” someone offered.

“They staged little comic chariot races, which gave them a chance to whip us, and afterwards we were given to the guests.”

“Did he give you to men only?” I asked.

“Oh no, he had women friends who liked to torture girls. And women are much more cruel than men.” She took a deep breath. “Sometimes Fernando gave us to his security guards and they liked to gang up on a girl. I would be surrounded by a dozen men who inflicted terrible pain on me, then screwed me until I went numb.”

“Good God,” breathed Audrey.

“Fernando had a doctor in his pay who treated our injuries. And no matter what happened to me I never complained, never let Fernando see me cry and I did my very best to please.”

“Why?”

“Don Fernando was part of a white slavery ring. When he grew tired of a girl he sold her. The horror stories about what happened to some of the girls after they were sold were enough to convince me to do anything to avoid that.”

“How did you get away?”

“My family missed me of course, and my father contacted my agent, who as it turned out, had been bribed by Don Fernando and knew about my kidnapping. Dad smelled a rat when my agent kept telling him that he didn’t know where I was.

“My Dad was in the Navy during the Vietnam war. So was my uncle Roy, who was a Navy Seal, so Dad and Uncle Roy paid my agent a visit at his home and convinced him to talk.” 

“How did they do that?” Audrey asked.

Patty looked at her like she was retarded. “Well,” she said slowly and clearly, “They beat him with their fists until he talked.”

“Oh.”

“They flew to Panama and tracked down Don Fernando. When they were sure they had located me they called some friends who were also veterans and they went to Panama too. Then late one night they scaled the wall, knocked out each of the guards, walked into the stable and released me.”

       “Wow!”

       “I was actually awake,” Patty said. “And I saw my father walk in, dressed all in black with black camouflage paint on his face. The stable master was dozing but woke up just as Dad reached him. Dad punched him so hard that he was knocked unconscious.”

       “If your father was camouflaged, how did you know it was him?” someone asked.

       “Daddy was wounded in Vietnam and walks with a slight limp,” Patty said. “I knew it was him.”

“Amazing.”

“Daddy released me and the other girls, then he and the other Americans went into the mansion. They took care of the rest of the guards, released the house slaves, and then paid a visit to Don Fernando in his bedroom.”

“Did they kill him?”

“No, he had another slave girl in bed with him that night. The girl was tied spread wide on the bed and Fernando was fucking her when they walked in. I think if I had been that slave Daddy probably would have killed Fernando, but as it was, they just interrogated him about the slave ring; video taped his answers, and then beat him nearly to death. They took me and another American girl away in a car, loaded the other women and Fernando into a couple of trucks and drove them to the British embassy and dropped them off.”

“Why the British embassy? Why not call the police?”

“Because they didn’t trust the Panamanian cops,” Patty said. “And three of the women were British citizens. Daddy figured the British would see that the rest of the women were seen safely back to their homes.”

“What about Fernando? What happened to him?” Audrey asked.

“Daddy left him with the British too. He told me that the British are quite determined when it comes to rescuing their citizens. They can be ruthless, and he told me that the James Bond movies about double O agents having a license to kill isn’t fiction. They actually do that.”

“My goodness.”

“Yep, Don Fernando hasn’t been seen since that night and the British embassy denies all knowledge of him. I also heard that his security men have gone missing as well.”

“Were the other kidnapped women rescued? The ones he had sold?”

“I don’t know,” Patty said. “Its been kept very quiet but I think someone is looking for those women. After Daddy took me home I was visited several times by FBI agents, people from the state department and several gentlemen with English accents who said they were from the British Foreign Service but I got the feeling that they were more like secret agents than diplomats. I told them all I knew.”

“What about your agent?”

“Well, Daddy and Uncle Roy paid him another visit and he offered to hand over all the money he’d been collecting for my previous appearances, all the money Fernando paid him, and he refunded all of his fees going back to the beginning of our association.”

“How nice of him.”

“Uh huh, and right after I got all that money he was taken to the hospital with severe injuries he suffered from a bad fall.”

“A fall?” someone asked in disbelief.

“A fall. The doctors thought his injuries looked suspicious but he insisted that he had fallen out of the window of his fourth floor apartment in Manhattan. They said he was lucky to have survived a fall like that.”  

“I take it that your father is some sort of secret agent,” said Audrey.

“No, Daddy teaches history and music appreciation at a middle school in New Hampshire.”

“My, my,” Audrey said. “Your father sounds like an interesting man.”

“He’s terrific.”

“Is he good looking?”

“Very,” Patty laughed. “But forget it, he’s married.”

“How did you come to be here?” Audrey asked.

“My modeling career was over,” Patty said. “After disappearing for a year I discovered that it was almost impossible to get back into the business, and I couldn’t very well tell people where I’d been. I worked in a few jobs but I couldn’t settle down. Dad saw to it that I got counseling thinking I needed help dealing with the trauma, but that wasn’t the problem.”

“What was the problem?”

“I missed being a slave girl.”

There was a stunned silence.

Finally Audrey managed to close her mouth. “You mean you wanted to go back?”

“Yes, not to Fernando of course, but I wanted to be a slave.”

“Oh my God,” Number Three breathed in awe.

“Yeah,” Patty shrugged wryly. “It’s addicting, isn’t it?”

Everyone nodded.

“I went through three bad relationships with men who thought they were masters,” Patty said. “But they only wanted to play around on the weekends. What I wanted was full time slavery.”

“So you came here, right?”

“Not right away. First I became a bondage model.”

“Oh dear, did you do hard core?”

“Of course.”

“Did you find it satisfying?” I asked.

“Nope, but I needed to make a living, and I thought that I might meet people in the bondage life style.”

“Did you?”

“Yes, but no one could satisfy me, at least no one I wanted to be with.”

“Why not?”

“The decent people weren’t cruel enough, and the cruel people were creeps and weirdoes.”

There were understanding nods.

“I heard about the farm and came out for a visit and met with Mistress Karen,” Patty continued. “She tested me with some serious bondage before she accepted me. I cried with happiness the moment she tied me up.”

“Wow.”

“I felt at home,” Patty said. “But before I moved in I flew back to New Hampshire and told my family what I wanted to do.”

“How did they take that?”

“Dad didn’t take it well at all,” Patty said. “But my step mom understood and she helped me explain it to him. In fact, she took him into the bedroom and had him tie her to the bed.”

“So your step mother is into bondage?” Audrey asked.

“I think so, but I don’t know how deeply she might be into it.”

“Interesting.”

“Finally my father accepted what I wanted. I offered to have him visit the farm but he turned it down.”

“Yeah, I don’t think many fathers would want to see what their daughters do here,” I said.

“No kidding,” Debbie said. “My father would have a heart attack if he saw me in harness.”

There were lots of nods.

“I wonder how many of our families know,” I mused.

“Mine does,” said a voice from the back, very quietly.

“So does mine,” another girl said.

“My sisters know,” a third woman said. “But they keep it from my parents.”

There was a long pause.

“It sounds like your step mother is pretty understanding,” Audrey said.

“Yes, she’s great,” Patty said. “Dad doesn’t know it, but she’s visited me here.”

“What did she think?”

“She understood completely,” Patty said. “Mistress Karen gave her the tour and offered to let her try on some harness.”

“Did she?”

“I don’t know. They were in the tack shed for a long time and my step mother changes the subject when I ask her about it.”

“Maybe you ought to invite her again,” someone chuckled.

“I don’t dare,” Patty answered. “I don’t want her leaving Dad for this lifestyle.”

“And you probably don’t want to be teamed up naked with your step mother,” Gloria said.

“God no. That would be too weird.”

“Is your father ok with your life style now?”

“To a degree,” Patty said. “He thinks I’m still suffering from trauma and he hopes I’ll get over it someday and go back to being a normal girl. When I go home on furlough he always sets me up with nice young men.”

“Do you let them tie you up?”

“No, they are friends of my family so I behave myself. Dad wants me to find a decent man and settle down, but privately I asked my step mother to keep her eye out for a cruel sexy master.”  

“She sounds like a Jewish matchmaker,” Audrey laughed.

“We’re Jewish,” Patty chuckled. “That’s exactly what she is.”

“So how’s she doing?”

“She set me up with a couple of men, but they weren’t strong enough for me,” Patty sighed. “She’s still looking.”

“Does she test them before she introduces them to you?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Patty said. “But I suppose anything is possible.”

“If you prefer men, why aren’t you at a farm with masters?” someone asked.

“Oh, I don’t mind working for mistresses,” Patty said. “And it’s safer here. But if I could find the right master I’d go with him in a heartbeat.”

“What would the right master be like?” I asked.

“Tough, strong, cruel but considerate of me as a human being,” Patty said. “And someone who would still want me after he’s given me to a dozen of his friends.”

“Wow.”

“I want him to see every stroke of the whip on my skin,” she said. “And watch each thrust of their cocks into me, and when they’ve finished with me I’d want him to still love me, and no matter what they’ve already done to me, I’d save my orgasm for him.”

“I learned something from Patty,” Audrey told me later.

“What’s that?”

“Her concept of fidelity,” she said. “She’s willing to be screwed by dozens of men, but she can prove her devotion to her master by allowing only him to make her come.”

       “Makes perfect sense to a slave,” I said.

“Yes, and I’ve been here long enough that I understand it too.”

“Maybe you’re beginning to fit in here,” I said. “Perhaps you ought to consider moving here permanently.”

“Or get out while I still have some will power.”

Number One Pony

NUMBER FOUR’S EMERGENCY FURLOUGH

I was awakened at three in the morning when Mistress Karen and Mistress Stephanie came into the stable. They woke up Number Four and Mistress Karen took her into the main house. Mistress Stephanie was the duty mistress that night. She came to my stall.

“Your Number Four got an emergency phone call,” she told me quietly. “Her brother was in a car accident.”

“Oh dear, have you any idea how bad it is?”

“Not yet. She’s on the phone with the family now.”

Number Four returned fifteen minutes later. “I’m to be dressed for travel,” she told Mistress Stephanie.

Mistress Stephanie turned toward the storage lockers, then paused. She unlocked my stall and motioned for me to come along. Number Four looked grateful. In the storage room Mistress Stephanie opened Four’s locker and left. I stood with Four while she got dressed and packed a small suitcase.

“My brother crashed his police car during a chase,” Four told me. “He has a broken leg and other minor injuries but they don’t think he’s in any serious danger.”

“Thank goodness for that,” I said.

“Yeah, but I still have to go home. My mom will be a basket case and somebody will have to take care of her or she’ll spend every waking minute at his bedside.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“She’ll drive everybody crazy, find fault with everything the doctors and nurses do, and he’ll never get a minute’s rest. If I’m there I can keep her at home and out of everybody’s hair.”

By the time she was finished Mistress Karen had returned. “Mary is on the phone arranging a plane ticket to Dallas,” she said. “The earliest flight is at six twenty and she is going to drive you to the airport.”

“Thank you lady.”

“You may wait in the house until Mary is ready to go,” Mistress Karen said. “You may wait with her Number One.”

We sat in the living room like normal women, except that Number Four was dressed and I was naked. One of the house ponies brought us coffee and breakfast rolls. Even at three in the morning she was immaculate in patent leather harness and heels.

“I didn’t know that your brother was a policeman,” I said.

“My big brother,” she said proudly. “He’s been my hero all my life. In fact, he’s why I became a slave.”

“How is that?”

“Ever since I was a little girl I’ve been turned on by bondage,” she said. “When I was eight I saw a comic book about a girl rabbit who was captured by an evil cat and tied up.”

“Was that a pornographic book?” I asked.

“No, it was a children’s book, and the little rabbit was a preteen with barely any boobies and she wore panties, but for some reason the drawings of her tied to a post turned me on.”

“What happened to her? Did the evil feline eat her?”

“No,” she laughed. “She was rescued by a brave little dog who chased the cat up a tree.”

“Is that it?”

“Yes, she didn’t have sex with the dog either,” Four laughed. “But that book made me hot every time I looked at it. I wanted to be tied up and have something happen to me. I just wasn’t sure what it should be.  

“When I was fourteen I took a set of handcuffs off my brother’s gun belt and put them on myself. I had an orgasm the instant I clicked them on my wrists.”

“I think I can understand,” I chuckled.

“Yeah, but the problem was that I didn’t have a key and I had to wear them until he came home.”

“Did you have them in front or behind your back?”

“I started in front, then wriggled around until I had them behind my back.”

“You must have been pretty flexible.”

“I was at that age. I could step through my arms. I wish I was still that agile”

“What did your brother do when he came home?”

“Actually my parents came home first, so I hid in my room and pretended to be asleep. When my brother came in I snuck into his room and begged him to release me.”

“What was his reaction?”

“He teased me lot before he’d unlock them,” she said.

“Teased you? Did he touch you?” I asked shocked.

“No, not like that. He just gave me a hard time about being inquisitive and getting into his stuff. He had no idea that I was sexually aroused,” she said. “He finally released me and put the handcuffs away.”

I was relieved.

“After that I wore the handcuffs every chance I got,” she continued. “But I made sure I had a key handy. I’d wait until no one was home then take my clothes off and handcuff myself in the nude. I practiced until I could get loose from just about any position. Very soon I was masturbating wearing handcuffs.”

My pussy was starting to tingle.

“I became very daring,” Four went on. “I’d walk around the house naked wearing the handcuffs. I’d open the all the curtains then walk past the windows or I’d stand just out of sight of the neighbors and touch myself until I came.”

She giggled. “One morning the mailman pushed a bunch of letters through the mail slot just as I was walking past. It startled me and I squealed in surprise.”

“I take it that you were naked?” I interrupted.

“Uh huh, and the fright almost made me have an orgasm, so the next day I waited inside the door on my knees. I fantasized about the mailman pushing his penis through the mail slot.”

“You knew about oral sex at fourteen?” I asked.

“I was sixteen when that happened,” she said. “I’d been playing with my brother’s handcuffs for two years, and by then I’d seen a few porn movies at my girlfriend’s house, so yeah, I knew.”

“Ok, go on.”

“I liked risk taking so much that I would watch for my parents and wait until their car drove into the garage before running back to my room. Then I’d listen to hear the back door open before removing the handcuffs and putting my clothes on.”

“Did you ever get caught?”

“No, but I came close a few times, and it added to the thrill.” She thought for a moment. “The closest call was with my brother and one of his friends.”

“What happened?”

I was wearing his handcuffs when he came home with a buddy. I was lying on his bed in a hogtie.”

I raised my eyebrows in question.

“I tied my ankles together with rope, left a loop in the rope and hooked the handcuffs through the loop,” she explained. “I was grinding my breasts against the mattress pretending I was some man’s prisoner when I heard the front door open. I rolled off the bed and wriggled under it just seconds before they came into the room.”

“And they didn’t see you?”

“No.”

“And let me guess, you were frightened but very turned on, right?”

“Boy, was I ever!”

“What happened?”

“They talked for a while, then my brother took a shower and his pal sat on the bed and talked to him through the open door.” She rolled her eyes. “I dropped the handcuff key when they came in, and the friend picked it up and put it on the dresser. That frightened me because if my brother saw it he’d know I was playing with his handcuffs again, and he might go looking for me.”

“Did he?”

“No, thank God

“I’ll bet you had an orgasm.”

“Oh yes. I started to quietly untie myself,” she said. “But then I changed my mind and I rubbed my breasts slowly against the carpet while I watched their feet. When I came I had to grit my teeth very hard to keep from screaming. I had carpet burns on my boobies for days.”

“How long were you under the bed?” I asked, crossing my legs very tightly.

“About forty five minutes. After his shower my brother got dressed and they went out.”

“How did you get loose?”

“I rolled out from under the bed and tried to untie the rope. It took a while, but with a lot of straining and huffing and puffing I managed to get the rope off my ankles. Then I just stood up and got the key off the dresser. The instant I got the handcuffs off my knees gave way under me.”

“Did you have sexual feelings toward your brother?” I asked.

“Maybe a tiny bit,” she said. “But I think it’s more that I wanted to have sex with a man just like him. He represented everything I wanted a strong male to be.”

I nodded.

“When I was older I went to the police supply store and bought a pair of handcuffs for myself,” Four continued. “At first they wouldn’t sell them to me because I was too young but I told them that I was buying them for my brother, and they knew him, so I got them after all.”

“Clever girl,” I said.

“Yes, except the clerk mentioned it to my brother a few weeks later. He came home and asked me what I was doing buying handcuffs. So I had to tell him.”

“Uh oh. What was his reaction?”

“Actually, he was ok. He’s a lot older than I am and very wise, and he understood kinky sex. He asked if I was having sex with anyone, and believed me when I told him that I wasn’t, then he just advised me to be careful and make sure that I could trust the person before I allowed anyone to put me in bondage.”

“Good advice.”

“Yeah, but he needn’t have worried,” she said wryly. “Any boy that asked me out knew who my big brother was and no one wanted to get him angry. I was as safe as in church. If I went out on a date the guy would be afraid to even kiss me good night.”

“You poor thing,” I laughed.

“It’s not funny,” she said. “I was almost twenty before I lost my virginity.”

“Were you wearing handcuffs at the time?”

“Yes I was,” she smiled. “And it was terrific.”

“Did the man know what he was doing?” I asked.

“He sure did. He wasn’t much older than me but he was already experienced at kinky sex. He did all the things I’d fantasized about.”

“Which was . . ?”

“He spanked me, slapped my breasts, pinched my nipples and made me crawl and beg. He even made me kneel and suck his cock. Then he handcuffed me to his bed and fucked me.” She sighed. “I thought I was in heaven.”

“What happened to him? Did your brother find out?”

“No, it was none of his business,” Four replied. “I had sex with that guy off and on for a couple of years, but he wasn’t my boyfriend.”

“Oh?”

“He was an amateur photographer and had several girls who modeled for him. They submitted to him sexually too.” She paused. “He was unattractive, had bad teeth, rarely shaved or even combed his hair, but he had the knack for getting women. One of his bondage models was a married woman in her thirties.”

“Did you know her?”

“Yes, we live in a small suburb of Dallas and everybody know everybody. She worked in a bakery and stopped off at the kinky guy’s apartment every day after work.”

“Did he tell you about her?”

“No, I was passing his place one afternoon and saw her leaving, so the next time I had sex with him I got out of bed while he was sleeping and looked through his boxes of photographs. Sure enough, there were hundreds of pictures of her in bondage.”

“Were you jealous?” I asked.

“Oh no,” she replied. “Just surprised. I knew her kids from school, and her husband is a friend of my dad but it didn’t affect my relationship with the guy at all.”

“So you kept letting him tie you up, eh?”

“Sure, he is a kinky devil who knows ways to drive a woman out of her mind.”

“What ways?”

“Oh, by simply teasing my pussy while I was tied so tightly that I could barely breathe, let alone move. He would tickle me for hours with feathers and such.”

“Is that all?”

“He made me obey him, but that wasn’t a problem. I really liked obeying him and I would have done anything he wanted.”

“Anything?” I asked.

“Absolutely anything, no matter how disgusting or perverted. What ever he wanted of me, I would have done it for him. Obedience was the most erotic thing imaginable. I must have had three or four orgasms every time we got together, and that was usually before he tied me to the bed.”

“How disgusting did he get?”

“Nothing too bad, the worst was anal sex, and I got used to that pretty quickly.”

“Yeah.”

“He also introduced me to pussy ropes.”

“You hadn’t worn one before?”

“Nope. I’d never dreamed of doing something like that, but one afternoon he tied a rope through my pussy lips and led me around his apartment on a leash. It was fantastic. After that I wore ropes through my vagina all the time.”

“All the time?”

“To school, to church, to my job at the hamburger stand and all around the house. I finally had to force myself to stop wearing them.”

“Why?’

“Read an article about women losing sensitivity by overusing vibrators,” She said. “And I was concerned that a pussy rope might do the same thing.”

“That makes sense,” I said.

“So I cut back to wearing them only when I tied myself up,” she told me.

“Did you model for that guy?” I asked.

“Not in those days, I didn’t have the nerve,” she said. “I wasn’t in love with him or anything, but I trusted him and he taught me a lot about bondage. Eventually we drifted apart and I had a few other lovers, some who weren’t even kinky, but I finally realized that I was a natural born slave and came here. Years later on furlough I ran into him and I posed for him in bondage.”

“What about sex with women?” I asked. “Did he introduce you to that too?”

“No, he wasn’t involved. I seduced a girlfriend when I was twenty,” she said. “I talked her into tying me, then ‘forcing’ me to submit.”

“Did you always have lesbian tendencies?”

“No, none actually, but the photographer had lots of pictures of girls together. I was turned on by the submission more than the sex and I wanted to be compelled to do something I wouldn’t normally do.”

“So you talked your friend into tying you?”

“Right.”

“Was she gay?”

“No, but she was intrigued when I offered to let her tie me up. She tied me to her bed, then just stood looking at me. I had never felt so vulnerable and exposed,” Four said. “And I liked it.”

“What happened?”

“We looked at each other for a long time, then I opened my knees another inch and off came her panties.”

I had to recross my legs very tightly.

“She crawled up the bed like a cat,” Four said. “She dragged her nipples over my body and when she reached my face she kissed me for about a hundred years.”

“Oh my,” I whispered.

“Then she straddled my face and I kissed a woman’s pussy for the first time in my life,” she continued. “And she kept me on that bed all afternoon.”

“Did you make her come?”

“Yes, several times,” she said proudly.

“Did she return the favor?”

“No, she wouldn’t touch me,” Four said. “But when she untied me she told me to play with myself while she watched. I looked into her eyes while I masturbated and when I came it was almost as good as real sex.”

“Does your family know what you do here?” I asked after a long silence.

“My brother does.”

“Uh oh,” I said.

“No, its ok,” she said. “I told everyone that I am employed by the government, and made it sound like I work at a secret facility. He didn’t believe me and did some checking. He found out about us.”

“What did he do?”

“He confronted me and we talked it over. I told him the truth and didn’t hold anything back. I was honest with him when I explained my submissive nature, and told him that I didn’t want to get married or have kids, or a have a career or make lots of money. I told him that I belonged here and that I was safe and happy. I told him about my friends, especially you, Two and Three.”

“How did he take it?” 

“He grumbled a bit but he accepted it when I told him that we have a pension plan.”

“You must be kidding!” I laughed.

She shook her head. “Nope, that was the clincher. He’s ok with my slavery so long as I’m financially secure.”

“Has he visited the farm?” I asked.

“God no,” she said. “I don’t mind him knowing that I’m a slave, but I’d die if he actually saw me in harness.”

She sighed.

“On the other hand, I wish there was some way that he could see how I live without seeing me naked. I’d love to show him around and introduce him to you and my other sisters.”

“I wonder if there was a way we could show him a sanitized version of our lifestyle,” I said.

“What, have a family day once a year? Invite our parents and grandparents?”

“Sure. Have everyone wear clothes for a day.”

“That would be something,” she laughed. “Imagine the teams in harness over shorts and tee shirts, prancing around with innocent expressions on our faces.”

“And the mistresses armed with ping pong paddles instead of whips,” I added.

“We could have Mary conduct tours,” Four giggled. “One look at her would convince everyone that nothing sexy happens here.”

“Do you think your brother would buy it?” I asked.

“Not a chance. He’d see through it in a heartbeat,” she said. “So I made him promise never to come here. And he promised never to tell my folks.”

“Sounds like you have a pretty neat brother,” I said.

“He’s wonderful,” she said. “You should let me introduce you some day.”

“Is he into domination?” I joked.

“What man isn’t?” she laughed. “Besides, he’s a cop. A tough Alpha male who ties up his girlfriend.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

“She told me.”

  

Mary came in wearing a shabby old robe. She handed Four an envelope full of money.

“This ought to get you by for several weeks,” she said. “And you can access more through your credit card if necessary. Your plane ticket will be waiting at the airport and I called your father with your flight number. He’ll meet you in Dallas.”

“Thank you ma am.”

“Give me a moment to get dressed and we’ll be on our way.”

Mistress Karen came in. “Take as much time as you need,” she told Four. “And call us when you know more about your brother’s condition.” She gave Four a long hug, then left.

Mary came back and I walked them out to the car. I gave Four a hug and watched them drive away. Mistress Stephanie stuck her head out of the stable door and motioned me to come inside. The night air was cool and it was nice to curl up in my cot.

The next morning after all the teams were harnessed and fed, Mistress Eve told everyone why Number Four was absent. There were murmurs of sympathy, which the mistresses permitted, then it was off to work.

Mistress Eve tied us to a hitching rail then disappeared. She came back leading Audrey and brought the mechanic bitch Paula too.

“Oh no,” muttered Number Two. “What’s she doing here?”

Mistress Eve teamed Audrey in Four’s place and clipped a leash from my collar to Paula’s. She walked us out of the farmyard and both Two and Three snorted loudly to let her know that they didn’t think that Paula had the right to walk beside me. They thought that she ought to walk behind us.

I headed for the fields but Mistress Eve turned us up the hill.

“My, my,” Number Two murmured. “A change of pace.”

Mistress Eve took us to the pump house. Now I understood why Paula was with us.

Number One Pony

ELECTRICITY

It turned out that we did go back to the pump house the following day, but not to pump water. The pump house has two uses.

One of the male ponies is an electrical engineer. His name is Sparky and he is very submissive to women and was married three times to wives who couldn’t dominate him to his satisfaction. They weren’t cruel enough. After his latest divorce he came to the farm for a weekend visit. He liked it so much that he resigned his six-figure job, sold his house and moved here permanently.

Several years ago he suggested a way to Mistress Karen that we could become self sufficient as to electrical power. He offered to install a pony powered generator. She gave him the go ahead and he brought a bunch of machinery and batteries and other stuff and set it up. He built a generator next to the pump house and by changing the drive belt we can make enough electricity to run the farm.

He built a shed and filled it with batteries that can store enough electricity to operate the farm for several days, and we can send the excess electricity through the power lines to the utility company, and they have to pay us for it.   

The generator must be turned at a steady speed or it doesn’t work properly, so Sparky created some devices to insure that the ponies turn it at the correct speed. For the males he made metal cock cages connected by wires to a speed regulator. As long as the speed is correct everything is ok, but if the pony boys slow down or speed up they get a jolt of electricity in their balls. Female ponies wear metal dildoes which zap our pussies. Over the years they’ve added refinements like electrified butt plugs and nipple clamps.

Sparky is a terrible masochist and loves to wear a genital cage. As a reward for building the generator he was allowed to work it every day but he loves pain so much that he deliberately dragged his feet so he could get zapped. 

That didn’t endear him to the other males working with him. The mistresses didn’t care about that but they couldn’t allow Sparky to mess up the generating process so his mistress decided to teach him a lesson. He was goofing around so much that she stopped the team and made Sparky kneel and suck all their cocks. (Sparky isn’t gay). But when she put them back to work he went right on dragging his feet, so she bent him over a bar and allowed the other males to screw him in the butt. That didn’t stop him either, so she hung him by his wrists, strapped a horsewhip to each capstan bar and allowed them to smack him in the groin.

He liked that too, Sparky is such a masochist that cruel male masters have been know to turn pale seeing him take a whipping on his genitals. (Women on the other hand, can’t get enough of seeing him being tortured.) Mistress Karen finally took him off the detail.

One of the mistresses came up with a way to use the pump house as a form of punishment. She was dealing with a disobedient pony boy and she got creative. She tied a slender cord around his balls, attached the cord to a bar and put a team to work. The bad pony had to keep up or risk having his balls ripped off. He did ok for a while, but made the mistake of smirking defiantly, so she tied a hobble on his ankles. The hobble had enough slack that he could keep up but it took a lot of effort. He was panting and sweating within a few minutes, and after a few hours he was begging for mercy. The mistress stopped the team and smacked his balls with a cane. He finished the shift in tears and became very docile after that.

The technique is called ‘towing’ and the female version is to attach heavy nipple clamps to a pony girl’s nipples, or pussy lips, or both, and subject her to the same treatment. It has been used to tame quite a few ponies.

One pony girl who thought she was tough as nails, actually offered to submit to being towed by her pussy lips just to prove how much pain she could take. (Believe me, I’ll never do that again!)

They improved on the horsewhips too. Mistress Karen had thin canes attached to the ends of the capstan bars and set a pipe upright on the floor. When the canes hit the pipe it holds them back until they snap forward. Anyone nearby will get smacked very hard. When a slave is strapped over a punishment horse and placed at the correct distance he or she will get the full force of those canes every twenty seconds. Its a favorite way of punishing someone without getting the mistress all sweaty.

Mistress Eve buckled us into very tight crotch straps after inserting the metal dildoes up our pussies. Audrey wasn’t aware that the dildo was capable of inflicting shocks, she just thought it was a nice touch from Mistress Eve.

Mistress Eve set a metronome to the correct rhythm and pointed to me. I tapped my foot to get us all in sync, then counted to eight and stepped off. Everyone moved in perfect unison. Audrey did too but she had no idea that there was a penalty for getting out of step.

We worked along for an hour, then by winks and nods we conspired to enlighten her. I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth, braced for the shock and stopped in my tracks, so did Two and Three. Sure enough we received a terrific jolt that seemed to flash through our bellies clear into our brains. Audrey wasn’t expecting anything and let out a shriek. She hopped and shuffled in confusion and tried to look at her pussy belt.

Mistress Eve looked at us curiously, then realized that we were messing with Audrey. She snapped her whip across my shoulders about a dozen times to get us going, then gave the others a few stinging cuts as they went by. When you’re being whipped the instinct is to run and get away from the whip, but going too fast gets the same results as going too slow. We got zapped again.

Audrey screamed again and staggered, which slowed us down and brought another jolt. Mistress Eve stomped across the room and shut off the electricity, then she carefully and methodically whipped me to tears.

She whipped my back, my breasts, my thighs and bottom, and the only reason I didn’t get that whip on my pussy was the crotch strap.

After I’d begged for mercy she whipped Number Two and Number Three, and she gave Audrey a few strokes for good measure. Then she turned the equipment on and ordered us to get moving. Audrey marched with an expression of bewilderment, then I saw understanding dawn on her face. She looked at me, raised her brows as if to say: ‘how could you do that to me?’ then she stopped dead.

None of us were expecting that and we all screeched in surprise when about a million volts burned through our pussies. (That’s what it felt like anyway.)

Audrey stood unflinchingly while Mistress Eve gave her a terrific whipping. She looked me in the eyes and smiled triumphantly. I bobbed my head to tell her that the jokes were over for the day. I tried to communicate the same thing to Mistress Eve but she was having none of it. She walked to the control panel, turned up the voltage and pushed the manual button. We all screamed as the electricity jolted through us. (Sparky set the system up so that we can get pain, but never enough electricity to injure us. Something about volts and amps, which I don’t pretend to understand, but it still felt like pure lightening between our legs.)

We hopped and twisted and writhed trying to escape the pain. Number Two put on a pretty sexy impromtu dance trying to shake the dildo out of her vagina, but it didn’t help. The electricity made our hair crackle and stand up and I honestly expected to see smoke coming out of our pussies (or at least steam).

Just as we were calming down Mistress Eve touched that button again for a split second, but it was enough to make four pony girls wail like air raid sirens.

“All right ladies, just one more time and I’ll hold this button down until you are unconscious,” Mistress Eve said grimly.

I dropped to my knees and bowed as low as the traces would permit. The others followed a half second later. Mistress Eve walked slowly around the room. She paused and placed her foot on the back of my neck. I nodded as rapidly as I could. Then she went to each girl in turn and subjected her to this very serious symbol of dominance. They all accepted eagerly. 

“Stand up,” Mistress Eve commanded. I staggered to my feet but the pain between my legs was still terrific. I tottered unsteadily. Mistress Eve slashed her whip across my legs.

“STAND,” slash, “UP,” slash, “STRAIGHT,” she commanded.

I became a statue.   

“If there is any more nonsense I will whip you until I am too tired to lift the whip,” she said. “Understand?”

I bowed, pawed the floor, curtseyed and jiggled my boobs in every gesture of submission I could think of. I even whimpered like a puppy under my gag.

We marched the rest of the shift in perfect order.

WEEKENDERS

You might think that we would have to pump water and electricity more often but temp slaves do most of the work.

Many weekenders come just to walk the pump house floor. Some like to be ‘forced’ to work, and others like it rough, including the electrical motivation, but many seem to simply enjoy the repetition.

One weekend slave girl (actually a woman in her forties) told me that the endless circling simplified her existence and brought peace of mind. She said that she was able to meditate while turning the capstan, which she considered to be a form of prayer wheel. (A prayer wheel?)

I told her that the idea was to get a sexual thrill from the experience, and most of us were happy to concentrate on the existence of our vaginas, not the meaning of the universe. She just smiled knowingly and told me that some day I would receive enlightenment. I told her that I’d rather receive a sound spanking.  

One lady in particular doesn’t give a damn about philosophy. She brings her husband and makes him work the pump house. She relaxes in a lounge chair and reads while he pulls a bar round and round by himself. It’s hard for a single pony to turn the generator and still maintain the correct speed. After a few hours he gets tired, slows down and gets zapped. His wife doesn’t even glance up when he screams.

She’s made friends with some other dominant wives and occasionally they team their husbands on the capstan. The ladies chat or play bridge and tease their slaves by wearing sexy dominance outfits. Other times they bring baskets of food and have a tea party wearing nice dresses. (Except they won’t have any underwear, and sit with their legs apart.)

Sometimes they borrow our male slaves and make them kneel under the table and eat their pussies. And occasionally they set up cots and allow our males to fuck them while their husbands watch as they trudge past.

So many weekend ponies want to use the pump house that Mistress Karen has to take reservations months in advance, and even then she is forced to double and triple the number of slaves on the capstan. Some slaves complain that it’s too easy because there are so many people working. It gets worse in cold weather and she is considering building a second generating room. We could end up selling power to the whole state of California.

Not all weekenders work the pump house. Many like to be out of doors and to get dirty (physically and morally).

We have a pair of women who come out twice a month and give carriage rides around the farm.

It started with one woman who came with her boyfriend. She was young and wanted to experience pony bondage. He was completely out of his depth and placed her in the hands of our mistresses, then stood back and watched.

The mistresses trained the girl, named Linda, in slavery. And because he was such a nice young man, eager to please his girl, they trained him in dominance. He wasn’t comfortable at first, but eventually grew to like the scene. 

They met another couple and Linda and the second girl, named Dottie became friends. 

One day their boyfriends paired them up to a wagon and rode around the farm. The girls enjoyed pulling the wagon and it became a routine part of their visits. Neither seems to care very much for punishment, but they love being wagon girls.

We owned an old four passenger Cinderella coach for parades and such, and Mistress Karen hauled it out of storage and had it refurbished. She allowed the girls to take their husbands for a ride and they were ecstatic. They now use it to give guests carriage rides. 

They can easily pull the carriage at a walk but they must have another pair of ponies if they are to trot. I’ve been teamed with them and I enjoy giving carriage rides too. But because the coach has become the private domain of Linda and Dottie I have to give up my status as lead. 

The coach is painted white with lots of gold trim and the ponies wear matching harness. We have a spare set for when we double the team.

Their masters set up a little booth in the courtyard and sell tickets.

Linda and her boyfriend got married but they still come out twice a month. She even pulled the carriage while she was pregnant, which raised a few eyebrows and generated a lot of ticket sales.

The carriage rides are supposed to last only an hour, but many times they’ve gone much longer. It’s pretty obvious that sometimes the passengers stop the carriage and screw the ponies. Linda and Dottie return with flushed faces, grass in their hair and harness in disarray but their masters don’t seem to mind.

They also give hayrides in the autumn with a real hay wagon, but it’s so heavy that we have to add more ponies. It takes at least eight pony girls to pull that thing when it’s fully loaded.

Hayrides are a lot of fun, with bonfires, hot cider and getting screwed in a haystack by the male guests. The rides are always followed by a nice rubdown for us chilly pony girls afterwards. (A few years ago it turned cold during a hayride and we were chilled to the bone by the time we got back to the stables. Mistress Jill built a fire right in the middle of the washroom floor, turned out the lights and we were washed by the light and warmth of the fire. It was very romantic.)

Another regular weekender is a lanky woman from England who we call the duchess. She wants to be worked as hard and dirty as possible.

The duchess is tall and bony, with pale skin and sagging breasts. She has light gray eyes and dull blonde hair. She doesn’t wear makeup or do her hair in a fashionable style. She just looks dreary, but her clothes are expensive and she arrives in a luxury sedan.

She absolutely loves dragging a plow through the hardest soil until she is covered in dust and sweat. Sometimes the mistresses flood a section of field until it turns to thick mud. The duchess wades through the muck and dust, and struggles to pull the plow. She never has to be encouraged with a whip. She works herself almost to exhaustion, and I’ve seen her near to collapsing when they bring her in from the field. 

She likes to work alone and won’t be paired up. She rarely smiles and never talks to other ponies. She doesn’t seem to enjoy sex but she obeys instantly if a mistress orders her to submit. We’ve watched her eat pussies and suck cocks, and spread her legs for the guests yet she never shows any emotion.

She accepts punishment without complaint too. She gets spanked, and caned and even whipped, and she yelps sometimes, but she never seems to resent her torment. We can’t tell if she likes pain or not and we wonder if she ever has an orgasm. The only emotion she displays is an air of satisfaction when she stumbles into the washroom at the end of her shift. Even the mistresses can’t figure her out.

The first time Audrey saw the duchess we were returning from the fields late on a Friday afternoon. She gasped and turned to watch the woman, then caught herself and came to attention. 

“What’s the matter?” Mistress Eve asked.

“I think I know that woman,” Audrey answered.

“Who is she?” Mistress Eve asked.

“Don’t you know her name?” Audrey asked.

“Nope. She uses an alias.”

“Then I probably shouldn’t tell her name,” Audrey said. “If she has requested anonymity.”

“You are quite right,” Mistress Eve said. “Forget that I asked.” She flicked the reins and we moved on.

“So you know the duchess?” I asked later that evening.

“I can’t say that I really know her,” Audrey answered. “But I’ve met her a few times.”

“Would she recognize you?”

“No, I don’t think so, but I will tell you that she is one of the top lawyers in the state.”

“That’s not unusual,” I said.

“It’s not?”

“Nope. Lots of lawyers come here for punishment,” I told her.

“Really?”

“They go to dominatrixes too. I’ve heard that they constitute the largest group of clients by profession.”

“Why?”

“Guilt.”

Audrey thought about this for a moment. “I can see how that could be true.”

“What about the duchess,” I asked. “Do you think she’s trying to absolve her sins with slavery?”

“Could be,” Audrey said. “She’s hauling a lot of them around.”

“What kind?” I asked. “Does she cheat on her husband, anything like that?”

“No, but she is the worst cutthroat lawyer ever. She takes pleasure in ripping people to shreds in the court room and she’s vicious when it comes to divorce cases.”

“I’d know how to take care of her,” I said.

“How’s that?”

“Locate about twenty of her courtroom victims and invite them to the farm some weekend, then turn her over to them in chains.”

“My God, that would be terrible for her,” Audrey gasped. “I can’t believe that you would say something so cruel.”

I nodded.

“Why, they might torture her to pieces,” Audrey continued.

“Too bad,” I said.

Audrey was quiet, then giggled. “Do you think the mistresses would let me watch?” 

 

Number One Pony

THE PUMP HOUSE

Besides generating electricity the pump house can pump water. In fact, that’s why it was built.

When Dina’s great grandfather built the farm in the eighteen nineties he dug a well and built a water tower atop a hill behind the main house. At first the water was pumped by a windmill, then later by electricity. The rickety old tower was demolished in the sixties and replaced by a large steel tank that holds thousands of gallons of water and could supply a small town.  Years later Mistress Dina decided rather than use electricity to pump water she would use pony power, so she had the pump house built.

The pump house is a round building and it looks like an old fashioned threshing floor. Ponies walking in a circle turn a capstan connected to the pump, and the pump sends water into the tank. It’s quite simple. When the pump house was first built Mistress Dina had the tank was drained, the leaks were patched and it was painted inside and out. Then she set us to work refilling it and it took teams of ponies working in shifts eight days to fill it to capacity. Now we just top it off once a week, and every month or so, they send Paula along to do maintenance on the equipment.

Mistress Eve released Paula’s arms and motioned her into the machinery room, then separated the rest of us and hooked us to the capstan bars. We waited patiently while Paula checked the pumps and pipes and seals and so on. After a while she crawled up out of the manhole and told Mistress Eve that everything was ok.

Mistress Eve snapped her whip across my butt and we went to work.

Pumping water is quite simple, you just walk in a circle and you don’t have to worry about setting a constant speed (unless the mistresses decide to hook up the electric shock system just for fun).

The building has glass walls and the view is terrific. In warm weather the walls can be lowered and we work in the open air. There is usually a breeze up the hill and the work can be very pleasant. While we turned the capstan Mistress Eve had Paula open the walls, sweep up and polish all the valves and dials, then after an hour she put Paula in Audrey’s place.

The pump house has benches along the walls and Audrey was allowed to sit down and take a break for half an hour, then she relieved Number Three, and so on.

I don’t like working with Paula. She’s not a likeable person to begin with, and she isn’t used to being part of a team. She’s strong enough but has trouble maintaining a good pace. She slowed us down at times, and it got to be very annoying feeling the bars jerk backwards when she got out of rhythm.

The electrical punishment system can be used when we pump water but Paula is so erratic that Mistress Eve didn’t turn it on, thank God. She knew it wouldn’t be fair to the rest of us.

Mistress Eve doesn’t like Paula any more than the rest of us and she encouraged her with the whip. (And they weren’t erotic little love strokes either). I must confess that I enjoyed seeing the whip curl around Paula’s chest and snap across her nipples. I got excited watching, so did the rest of the team.

Paula squealed and yelped each time the whip got her and her body was soon striped with welts but it didn’t help. She just couldn’t get into the rhythm.

After one carefully aimed stroke caught her in the crotch she actually stopped and glared at Mistress Eve. That was a bad mistake.

Mistress Eve motioned for me to stop, then took careful aim, rippled the whip across the floor sinuously, then swung it with all her strength. The tip of the whip snapped on Paul’s right breast like a pistol shot. Paula screamed so loud that they must have heard her at the main house. The second snap got Paula’s other breast. Paula didn’t scream that time. I think the pain actually shocked her into silence.

Mistress Eve then signaled for me to get moving. Paula was sobbing so loudly that she didn’t step off on time and we nearly jerked her off her feet. She hopped to keep up and wept bitterly as we worked.

Even so, she just couldn’t get it right. She still threw us off our pace.

The other girls were angry and let me know it. I knew I was risking a severe whipping, but I looked right at Mistress Eve, jerked my chin toward Paula and shook my head emphatically. She rolled her eyes in exasperation and nodded.

She unhooked Paula and hung her by her wrists from a ceiling hook. She made her stand on a box while she tied her wrists, then kicked the box from under feet. Paula screamed when the ropes tightened but Mistress Eve ignored her and walked away. The rest of us worked in perfect harmony while Paula wailed in agony.

Mistress Eve amused herself by whipping Paula from time to time, and Paula is such a masochist that eventually she began to enjoy the pain. But Mistress Eve wouldn’t allow her to come. She watched closely and when Paula’s crying changed from pain to passion she would walk away. 

After an hour Mistress Eve dragged the whipping horse into place and bent Paula over it. She took her time and carefully strapped Paula into place. Then she attached the canes to the capstan bars. Paula was still sobbing from her whipping but her voice went up about ten octaves when the first cane snapped across her butt.

The height of the canes can be adjusted so that the slave riding the horse doesn’t get cut in two. Mistress Eve set ours so that one cane struck Paula’s bottom high, the next a bit lower, and so on.

At normal pace one of the canes will smack their victim every eight seconds

We got a great deal of satisfaction hearing the canes smack across Paula’s skin, and we had to resist the temptation to speed up so that she’d get hit harder.

A couple of years ago Mistress Karen hosted a visiting master from Germany and they brought his favorite slave to the pump house. She wasn’t there to pump water, she was to experience a mechanical caning. My team was used to supply the power.

Mistress Karen began with towing the slave behind us. She was a terrific pain lover and was grinning from ear to ear while they attached the clamps to her nipples.

She followed us in our circle with the clamps on her breasts and pussy lips. And Mistress Karen hooked her up to the electrical system (but didn’t connect it to us.)

The German woman had no problems until her master put a hobble on her ankles, then she got zapped a few times. She shrieked every time the electricity coursed through her pussy, but they were shrieks of pleasure.

She was allowed to enjoy that for about an hour then they strapped her to the horse and set the canes up.

She endured the canes across her bottom for another hour, and obviously enjoyed a couple of orgasms. Then they changed her position and hung her by her wrists so that the canes got her across the backs of her legs. She liked that too, and giggled in delight when her master turned her so that the fronts of her legs received punishment.

Her master lowered her body until she was receiving the blows across her belly and crotch and that sent her into a shrieking orgasm.

The woman endured those canes for six hours. She felt the canes across her arms, her back, her shoulders and even on the soles of her feet for a few minutes, (which made me shudder in horror. That is not erotic pain, not to me anyway).

She finally ended up on her knees with her breasts at the correct height to feel the canes on her nipples. She had an orgasm at the very first stroke and seemed to shudder in ecstasy for almost an hour. She fainted and was carried unconscious from the building. Her body was one huge bruise.

My team was a mass of damp pussies when we finished, but Mistress Karen seemed to forget about us. She was so engrossed by the German slave that she just sent us back to the stable without even a slap across the bottom. Mistress Eve made up for it though; she rubbed our pussies in the washroom until we all had nice orgasms.

We heard that when he returned to Germany the master had a copy of our capstan built, recruited a team of slave girls, and uses it to torture his woman on a weekly basis.

Mistress Eve was reading a book and seemed to forget that Paula liked pain, and after a while Paula suddenly let out a long deep sigh of utter delight. We’d brought her to an orgasm. Damn!

We all snorted indignantly and I glared at Mistress Eve. She shrugged in apology. She put down her book, took Paula off the horse and tied her to a tree down the hill so we wouldn’t have to listen to her crooning with pleasure.

After lunch Mistress Eve sent Paula back with the chuck wagon. She sent a note with Gloria asking the stable mistress to teach Paula some discipline. 

After the noon break everyone perked up. Mistress Eve sat in a chair, propped her feet up and read her book, and she played music on the sound system. I smiled at the surprise Audrey’s face when a Sousa march came over the speakers.

We snapped to attention and marched formally, knees high, chests out, and stern looks of determination on our faces. Audrey rolled her eyes in a ‘you’ve got to be kidding’ look, but within a few minutes she was marching in step. I confess that I thought it was silly the first time I worked to march music, but it actually does help. Something the soldiers figured out centuries ago, I guess.

Mistress Eve played other music too, but it was all with a steady, even rhythm. (Did you know that you can march to Dixieland jazz? Glenn Miller too.) Round and round we went all afternoon. Walking in circles hour after hour is mindless work and it’s easy to zone out into a sort of trance

I heard Mistress Eve giggle. I looked at her curiously and she pointed at Audrey. Audrey was marching with her knees high, her back straight, her chin in the air and her shoulders rocking in perfect time to the ‘Stars And Stripes Forever’. She was lost in thought. Her eyes were slightly glazed and was completely oblivious to what she was doing.

‘What the hell’ I looked at Two and Three and began rocking my shoulders. They joined in. We made a couple of circuits before Audrey noticed that Mistress Eve was laughing. She snapped out of her reverie and looked at Mistress Eve curiously. She looked at me and I shrugged as if I had no idea. We made several more circuits before it dawned on Audrey. She scowled, tossed her head and snorted at us and Mistress Eve lost it completely. She slid out of her chair onto the floor and laughed until she had tears.

Audrey marched stiffly, trying to keep from smiling, but we just rocked our shoulders. 

We knocked off at five and Mistress Eve walked us back to the barn. When we got to the barnyard we passed Paula locked in a pillory, and she looked very uncomfortable. Her face was wet with tears and her bottom and the backs of her legs were raw from being caned.

Mistress Jill was removing a large strap on and Mistress Stephanie was waiting to put it on. We found out later that practically every mistress on the farm had screwed Paula with that monster.

She scowled at us. Two and Three snorted disdainfully and shook their boobs at her, so did Audrey.

We went back to the pump house the next day.

We had two full days there. Audrey enjoyed them and we talked about it in the evening.

“I hate to confess this, but I like the work of pumping the water,” she said.

“Why?”

“Its relaxing,” She said. “I can just walk and walk and not have to think about what I’m doing. Its almost therapeutic as long as I don’t get electrocuted through my pussy.”

“I agree,” I told her. “You can think deep, important thoughts, or you can clear your mind and simply enjoy the music.”

She gave me a look. “Speaking of music, it wasn’t nice of you to make fun of me,” she said.

“Oh we weren’t,” I laughed. “We were impressed by your marching skills and were just trying to match your grace and beauty.”

“Poo,” she laughed. “I couldn’t understand why you were laughing until I realized that I was marching like the perfect mindless little pony girl.”

“Proper training always shows,” I said. “Your form was impeccable; the straight back, outthrust breasts, high steps with pointed toes, and above all, the blank, glassy eyed expression on your face.”

“Don’t you mean brainless?”

“Actually, you looked pretty sharp. All you needed was a set of plumes.”

“Thanks so much.”

“Mistress Eve was impressed, if you’ll recall,” I said.

“She was laughing too,” Audrey said indignantly.

“Uh huh, and she took you to her room right after evening meal, didn’t she?”

Audrey blushed. “Yes.”

“From the disgustingly satisfied looks on both your faces this morning, I’d say you had a good time.”

“Um hmm,” she stretched like a cat. “Do we go back to the pump house tomorrow?”

“No, the tank ought to be filled by now so I think we’re back to plowing.”

“That’s all right,” she said. “I like pulling the plow. By the way, do you think I’ll get to stay with your team until Number Four gets back?”

“Possibly,” I said. “But aren’t you scheduled to go home next week?”

“Damn, I’d forgotten that,” she said.

“Call your son and tell him you want an extension,” I suggested.

“I can’t. I’ve got several unavoidable social events next week,” she said. “Besides, my son tells me that people are asking where I am and he’s running out of excuses. He says he can either tell them that I’m at the Betty Ford clinic for alcoholics or working naked on a pony farm.”

“Hmmm,” I said. “What about telling them you’ve been abducted by sex starved space aliens?”

“No, we’ve used that one already.”

PHONEY PONIES

In the early days we got a lot of people who just wanted to wear harness and sit around drinking beer. Few of those people had any idea of true pony discipline and most of them were fat, sloppy, and rather low class. They didn’t want to work the fields, pull carts unless for a camera, and wouldn’t even work at the pump house. Mistress Dina put a stop to the drinking and eventually got ride of the slobs.

She accomplished this by making them to work; and she gave them hard work. She and the other mistresses made those phonies work until they were ready to drop, and any that lagged or complained got whipped until they screamed for mercy. Most of them left the moment they were untied, but we had one or two surprises.

One woman discovered that she liked getting whipped. She was fat, untidy, and very coarse in her behavior and her language, but she had the first true orgasm in her life when Mistress Dina hung her by her wrists and whipped her breasts. She was begging for more the instant Dina lowered her whip. When she was untied the woman fell to her knees if front of Dina and begged through tears to be accepted and trained. Mistress Dina saw something in that woman, a spark that no one else detected. She sent the woman’s boyfriend packing but allowed the woman to remain and decided to train her to be a good slave girl and a proper lady.

The first thing she did was to rename the woman Grace, which was a joke on how vulgar she truly was.

Grace was put through the toughest training that Mistress Dina could devise, and she worked like a demon to please her. She was whipped, wracked, humiliated and teased and denied sex for six months while she learned to walk and carry herself with grace and dignity. She was trained to harness and to please men and women sexually, and especially how to talk like a lady instead of a barroom tramp. We were astonished at first, and later impressed with Grace’s determination.

Grace is a true masochist and punishment didn’t work on her; she had orgasms with almost every stroke of the whip, so she was punished with denial. It worked because she was willing do anything to earn a spanking or a flogging.

Eventually her dedication paid off and Grace became a premier pony. She lost weight, toned up her skin and muscle and mastered every course of dressage and dance.

Her boyfriend, who was a sleazy creep, kept calling the farm and demanding to talk to Grace but she was not allowed to see or speak to him. Finally when her training was complete he was permitted to return. He was allowed to join the guests at dinner and sat in the back if the dining room. Mistress Dina had to loan him a jacket and tie). He watched Grace perform dressage as part of a team, and later in a solo routine, and he didn’t recognize her. He refused to believe that it was Grace even after Mistress Dina told him.

After dancing Grace was strapped into a whipping frame and flogged for the entertainment of the guests, and her boyfriend’s eyes nearly popped out when watched her have an orgasm. Afterwards she sparkled with anticipation as she was displayed for auction. She was sold for a high price to a pair of men from Japan. After the auction Mistress Dina led her to a side room and allowed her a few minutes alone with her boyfriend. When she returned the boyfriend was gone and Grace was standing at attention like a proper pony, excitedly waiting to be delivered to her temporary owner. The boyfriend was never heard from again.

Grace had become such a lady that as a prank some mistresses took her to the main house with several other female ponies and hosted a formal tea party in the parlor. Dina walked in to see a room full of naked women sitting around drinking tea from demitasse with their pinkies extended and talking in low proper voices about society and fashion and such. Even the mistresses were nude. Dina didn’t blink an eye. She walked away, returned minutes later stark naked and poured herself a cup of tea.

Grace lived here for several years and was an exemplary pony and was a personal favorite of Mistress Dina. She usually spent at least one night a week tied to Dina’s bed.

Over the years she received many offers for purchase, which she turned down. She was devastated by Dina’s death and a few months afterwards she told Mistress Karen that she would no longer object to being sold. She couldn’t bear to live here with Dina gone. She was sold to a wealthy couple from Indiana and has been with them for many years. She came back to the farm on vacation a few years ago and the mistresses put her into harness. She was escorted to Dina’s grave where she sat for several hours, talking to her. That evening she was led around the stables and greeted all her old friends, then she went back to her master and mistress.

Another surprise was an overweight man who also discovered that he liked the real pony life style. He too submitted eagerly to pony boy training, and even endured sex with men and learned to enjoy it. The lifestyle worked the fat off of him and he developed into a strong, nice looking man. He became a favorite with lady guests and a lot of gay male guests as well. He lived on the farm as a plow pony until his ex wife died and he had to leave to take custody of his children. He spends a few weeks with us each year while his kids are at summer camp.

Some people show up thinking that the farm is just one giant wife swapping orgy. Some men will hire prostitutes, dress them up in harness and try to pass them off as ponies, but those women are easy to spot. They don’t even get past the gate guards.

Other women like to come out and strut around in show harness, and some like to be included in the auctions, but make sure that their own husbands purchase them. They have a ‘Look, but don’t touch’ attitude. They don’t want to work either, especially if it means getting sweaty or dirty.

Mistress Karen no longer allows this silliness. If a woman wishes to be in the auction then she must go to the highest bidder no matter who they are and what they demand of her. I’ll never forget the stunned look on a male guest’s face as he watched his wife being led away by a man who had just bought her for the night. She was panic stricken and balked at the door, until a mistress gave her a firm smack across her butt with a riding crop. She squealed and trotted after her new master. Her husband collapsed in his chair, utterly devastated. He never dreamed that he might be outbid. When he retrieved his wife the next morning he was embarrassed to see that she couldn’t stop giggling, but she wouldn’t tell him what had happened to her. He was still furiously demanding to know what she had done as they drove away. She just closed her eyes and smiled.

If a woman simply wants to be on display she must either train for dressage or work the pump house, or if all else fails she must perform some other kind of work.

The other kinds of work might mean being a kitchen servant and helping cook or wash dishes, or wait on the guests at dinner. That usually means getting groped and fondled by the guests, and more than one pony waitress has had her panties removed while delivering the salad. Another guest threw a fit when he saw his wife obey a command to get on her hands and knees and crawl under a large table full of gentlemen. He was physically thrown out, but his wife stayed under that table all evening.

The temps have to be available to the guests and can expect to be placed on the auction block just like the rest of us. But either way, dressage or work, they are required to be slaves, not just pretty dolls.

Mistress Karen discovered that using volunteer slaves for late night room service works out nicely, because when they deliver a snack or drinks to the guest rooms they often get yanked inside, tied to a bed and screwed silly. They also wait on the mistresses in their private apartments, and more than one temporary slave waitress has vanished up those stairs, not to be seen until the next morning.

Mistress Karen screens new guests, and she makes sure that they are truly into the scene. Anyone else, the pretenders, the hookers, the fakes, are sent away. Only genuine submissives are allowed in.

To be fair, many of those women simply don’t have the time to train for pony slavery. Some would love to live the pony life but cannot because of other responsibilities, and quite a few of them are sneaking away from husbands for a night of kinky sex.

That’s ok, but they still must meet our standards.

Oddly enough, we get a lot of women from Travis Air Force Base, both military females as well as officers’ wives.

One middle aged lady is delighted to be a waitress, especially since she gets fondled by the guests, and she gets so excited at auction that she can barely stand still. She trembles so much that her breasts jiggle enticingly, and once a straight female guest bought her for the night just for that reason. The guest later said that she’d never wanted to have sex with a woman until she saw those boobs quivering. Rumor has it that the temporary slave is the wife of a high ranking officer.

Another regular weekender is a female major who come up at least twice a month. Sometimes she is accompanied by another woman who dominates her very cruelly.

She told me that she was only obeying the hundred mile rule. We were bent over a desk getting a very hot spanking from a guest and he’d stepped away to take a break.

“What is the hundred mile rule?” I asked.

“Officers are told to keep their indiscretions at least one hundred miles from the base flagpole,” she said. “Their conduct must never damage the dignity of the service. And it’s worse for female officers. We’re under constant scrutiny near the base, but I can drive up here and be a slut to my heart’s content.”

“What about ‘Don’t ask, Don’t tell’?”

“That only applies to gays and lesbians in the military,” she said. “And I’m not a lesbian, just a slut.”

“What about slavery and pony life?” I asked.

“It’s not specifically mentioned in regulations,” she answered. “But I expect that it would be covered under conduct unbecoming an officer.”

I looked at the welts across her butt. “Do you get surprise physical exams?”

“No,” she laughed. “And I usually can’t hang around the officers’ club swimming pool for a few days after I come here, but I like this very much, I just might move here when I retire. I have seven years to go.”

“What about the woman you come with sometimes?” I asked.

“She’s my squadron administrative sergeant,” she replied. “She’s a hard core dyke and likes to blackmail me into submitting to her.”

“That’s terrible,” I said. “How is she blackmailing you?”

“She has pictures of me in harness.”

“How did she get them?”

“I posed for her.”

“And she’s blackmailing you?” I gasped.

“Oh, it’s just a game we play,” the major said. “It’s a nice form of role reversal. When I know we’re coming to the farm, I treat her like hell all week long, then she brings me up here and gets even on the weekend.”

I’d seen the sergeant torture and humiliate the major. “But she makes you lick her pussy,” I said.

“She sure does.”

“And she’s auctioned you off to other women.”

“Yep.”

“I thought you said you weren’t a lesbian.”

“I’m not entirely lesbian,” she answered. “She sells me to men too.”

The master returned carrying a yardstick and she wiggled her bottom invitingly.

NUMBER ONE HAS THE MOPES

On Audrey’s last day Mistress Karen double-crossed her with every female pony in the stable. The mistresses got her up at six o’clock, washed and fed her, and then they strapped her on an X cross in the stable yard.

When we came out a couple of mistresses were playing with her pussy and breasts and someone had inserted a rather huge dildo up her pussy. By the look on her face she’d already had at least one orgasm.

With Mistress Karen’s usual efficiency the pony girls were scheduled an hour each with Audrey. Team One was first and I was given the honor of being the first to eat her pussy. We were licking each other’s crotch before they finished strapping me to her.

After me, Number Two was strapped to Audrey, and then Number Three, then Team Two, Gloria, and the rest of the females replaced her. Mary brought her camera and took pictures of every woman with Audrey. Audrey asked Mary to make sure that she got her face in the pictures. 

Audrey hung on the cross from eight in the morning until the evening meal. She was glassy eyed by the end of the day, but as they prepared to take her down she made a request to the mistresses. They came to my stall and walked me back to the cross. I got to eat Audrey’s delicious pussy for the final hour.

After dinner the mistresses washed Audrey gently and applied lots of body cream and ointment to her skin, then they took her to the males’ stable and tied her to a bench with her legs spread wide. They brought out the males and permitted them to fuck her. Mistress Karen had planned this night for Audrey so she had ordered that the males be kept celibate. The poor pony boys had been in chastity belts for a week and they were going out of their minds. They’ve been known to go berserk when they get too horny, so the mistresses only allowed two males access to Audrey at a time, otherwise she’d have been swarmed and the males would have ended up fighting. Even so, she constantly had a cock up her pussy or ass and another in her mouth. The males were given only half an hour each with her and they made the best of it. Audrey was soon coated with cum from head to toe, inside and out.

She was barely conscious when they brought her back to her stall, but she still had enough spark to thank the mistresses and ask if she could do it again.

The next morning Audrey’s son arrived to take her home. They brought Audrey out fully clothed and looking elegant and dignified as befitted the widow of the state’s most famous senator. Our team was kept in the yard and she was permitted to say good-bye. She hugged us and we got teary eyed. She astonished her son by kissing me full on the mouth for a long, sweet time. I was in full harness with my arms bound so I couldn’t hug her back but our tongues danced together for a moment. Then she got into the limo and it drove away.  

I was sad after Audrey left. I missed her terribly and moped around for a couple of days. They assigned another girl in Number Four’s place and I resented her. I had trouble concentrating and between an unfamiliar teammate and my black mood we stumbled and jerked and did a lousy job of plowing.

Mistress Eve finally got fed up. She stopped the team, unhitched me and stripped off my harness. Then she hung me from a tree limb by my wrists and whipped me for half an hour. I was screaming by the time she was through. Afterwards she left me hanging and went on plowing with only three ponies. Every time they passed me Mistress Eve gave me a few more cuts with her whip.

By the end of the day my hands were numb and my shoulders hurt terribly. Mistress Eve had no sympathy. She gave me two dozen more with her whip, then wrapped my harness around my shoulders in an untidy mess and made me walk behind the team. It was humiliating and everyone stared when we got to the stable yard.

That evening after dinner Mistress Eve took me to the males’ stable and tied me over the bench. She stretched my legs up and painfully apart and tied my ankles to posts, then she told the males to have fun and walked out.

There was no hourly relief for me that night, no attempt to protect me from rambunctious males. I enjoyed the attention of eleven pony boys, and believe me, they were innovative. I thought I knew just about every position that a woman could be screwed but I was introduced to a couple of new ones that evening. Even the gay males got caught up in the frenzy and I think one or two of them screwed me. At one point I was nearly unconscious and a man was thrusting his cock into my mouth. I became vaguely aware that his rhythm was odd and forced myself to awaken. I felt the same odd rhythm in my rectum and wondered why they were screwing me that way until they finished and I saw that the slave with his cock between my lips was being screwed from behind while I was sucking on him. The man fucking my butt was getting the same treatment. I was even more surprised to see that all four males were straight ones (supposedly). The other gays stood in a circle around me and masturbated each other onto my face.

Mistress Eve didn’t come fetch me at lights out either; she left me there all night long.

There is absolutely no way on earth of counting how many times I had a cock thrust into my body that night, but like Audrey, by midnight I was plastered with cum. And lights out didn’t help either, because the males weren’t locked into their stalls. They could get to me all night long. I don’t know how many times I was wakened by having a penis shoved in my pussy, or my rectum, or my mouth. I didn’t get much sleep.

I didn’t get a break the next day either. Mistress Eve retrieved me from the males, gave me a very quick wash, and put me in harness. I was so tired that I could barely stand but she was unsympathetic.

“I don’t care how badly you miss Audrey,” she told me. “You’d better snap out of it and get to work, or I’ll give you to the boys again tonight.”

I got to work.