Breeding the Pony Girl Pt. 07

*****

I was surprised and pleased when, upon returning to the barn, they removed our bits, reins, and arm binders. Sylvia told us to use the shower built into the stall, drink a lot of water, and eat the dishes of vegetable stew waiting for us.

Three-quarters of an hour later, she returned and reimposed slave discipline. As pony ranchers, we had frequently ordered our property to assume the positions for "collar" and "back hands," but (except for our recent trip to get branded) we weren't accustomed to obeying such orders. Then Sylvia clipped leashes to our collars and led us out of the barn, across the open yard, and into the main house where she lived with Sylvia. There, she disconnected our wrist cuffs and ordered us to kneel facing the sofa.

Without any preliminary, Moira stated, "Sylvia and I have been talking, and you two both lick pussy too well to be Lez-virgins. So, I'm curious--are you closeted lovers?"

We looked at each other, then turned our heads back to the front and replied, with complete honesty, "No, mistress."

"OK, then." Moira resumed. "Have you ever 69-ed with each other, though?"

That took no consultation; we both had to reply "Yes, Mistress." We didn't want to explain the circumstances!

"In that case, let's see you do it." Our clumsiness and hesitation were unfeigned, but we eventually got into position, Mary lying on top with my head between her thighs and vice versa. By now, I had adjusted to the techniques of GIVING oral pleasure, but it still startled me when I felt Mary's tongue on my clit. Not only the oral sex itself but the close contact with a friend's body felt comforting and mildly enjoyable. After about ten or fifteen minutes of licking and fondling, it was obvious that we were nowhere near climaxing, so they told us to separate and return to our kneeling stance, this time with our fingers interlaced behind our necks.

Once again, our "hostesses" shed their pants & panties, this time completely. And then they casually strapped on dildoes--large, anatomically correct black plastic dildoes complete with veins and free-swinging balls--whose butt ends occupied their birth canals with nubs that would rub against their clits.

"OK, sluts--you need more practice at worshipping pussies, but I'm sure you're already expert cocksuckers. Get to work again!"

I will admit that I have a lot more experience--both as a free woman and a pretend slave--swallowing cocks than "tonguing twats." But I usually service real dicks that grow once I began licking. These things were manufactured with soft surfaces to imitate skin, but they were still less flexible and comfortable than a real penis. Sucking this fake was boring and deep-throating it was difficult. Still, I did my best to satisfy her, and I heard Mary slurping away next to me.

After a few minutes of this effort, they withdrew their intruders, gave us each a brief drink of water, and ordered their new "slaves" to walk around and stand behind the sofa. The next steps were predictable, and in seconds Mary and I had our hands secured behind us and our faces bent forward onto the sofa cushions. Unceremoniously, a foot prodded me to spread my legs wide, and then one of the women (I think Sylvia) brought her battering ram up to the charge and thrust deeply into my cunt. The previous oral action must have excited me more than I realized, because the rather large plastic dick slipped easily into me. From the pleased grunt that I heard Mary issue from beside me, her body must have been as ready as mine was for penetration.

For the next few minutes, our dominant partners played the role of typical, selfish males, slapping our butts repeatedly, describing us in vulgar terms ("slut," "whore," and "pony bitch" being the least offensive) and rhythmically, rapidly pounding into us. But then Sylvia bent forward over me so that I felt her generous boobs pressing against my back. One hand began fondling and mashing my breasts while the other wormed its way between me and the sofa to give me some welcome relief by playing with my clit. A strong climax surprised me, roaring out as I shook and vibrated, enjoying myself more than I had on several previous occasions when I let a man fuck me.

As I built towards a second peak, Sylvia whispered in my ear, "One of the advantages of having a woman 'do' you is she knows much more about what feels good than any man." After that, I couldn't think clearly for the next several minutes--the combination of physical sensations and my own submissiveness carried me off to a blissful land of helpless pleasure. I had hated it when a snotty female at Jameson's ranch had fucked me with a strap-on, but this time I enjoyed myself so much that I was really glad that the shaft in my cunt could pump in, out, in, out, in, out, in--indefinitely without going soft. I was supposed to be a pony this weekend, but at that moment I felt more like a rabbit, wanting nothing better than to fuck forever...

When I came to again, Sylvia was extracting her plastic phallus from my body while petting my back and butt. Then it got even more exciting/demeaning. Sylvia tied Mary upright to a pole so she could watch as the two dommes double-teamed me. I was kneeling in Slave 4s on a low table as Sylvia insisted that I lick my own juices off her fake Johnson, while Moira enthusiastically explored my (temporary) slave cunt, having already pushed a slim dildo up my back passage. Just when I got into subspace and began to enjoy being spit-roasted, the ranch owner extracted the little dildo and replaced it with the much larger caliber strap-on. For the first few minutes she gently, slowly stretched my intestines, but then she got up to full speed, butt-fucking me while Sylvia encouraged her to "Ride 'em, cowgirl." I felt every inch of that thing, including its false veins, sliding in and out of my anus. Of course, knowing me, you know that I found the ultimate submission absolutely thrilling, and imagined having Richard Jameson use me the same way while that state inspector stuffed my mouth. The way Moira and Sylvia were grinning at each other suggested that they had detected my submissiveness.

Eventually, I got tied to a pole and Mary knelt to be spit-roasted in the same way. Thank heavens Moira thoroughly washed her strap-on before putting it into Mary's mouth. At that moment, my stable boss got to experience the true meaning of "betting your ass" and losing that bet. Her face was red with embarrassment, but her nipples were erect and she was gushing between her thighs; she might not admit it, but I think she enjoyed getting DPed with all-day-sucker strap-ons.

When they finished the second round, it felt nice to have Moira sooth me as she cooed about what a good fuck I had been. A warm damp cloth appeared to wipe me off. Minutes later, having dressed again, Sylvia led two stumbling, tired slaves back to their stall. She removed our leather cuffs, pointed out mouthwash and disposable toothbrushes, and told us to be on our knees, with boots, bustier, and tail plug already installed, when she came for us in the morning.

In minutes, Mary and I were sharing the one bunk in that stall but too tired to discuss our strange evening. As I drifted off to sleep, I noticed how comfortable I was cuddling with my friend and stable manager--not sexy, you understand, but then we'd had enough sex for one day! Just nice and reassuring. I had already suspected that I might have some bi tendencies, but Moira and Sylvia seemed to know how to bring them out in me. When this was over, I'd have to discuss the situation with Mary. If I dared.

*****

(Mary Jacobs' perspective)

OK; I'll admit it. I still don't enjoy being humiliated, but I have to admit that those women really knew how to push my buttons.

The next day was more of the same. As skilled pony trainers, the two women treated us like the trainee beasts of burden we were. They made us work hard, practicing the trotting step and obediently pulling them around in a sulky. But they didn't abuse us--frequent rests in the shade, lots of water, and only the gentlest, almost caressing whacks or spanks when we made mistakes. Before we started, in fact, Sylvia handed me a bottle of SPF 50 lotion and supervised as we coated each other. Of course, she claimed that we had "missed a few spots;" once our forearms were bound again, she rubbed excessive amounts of lotion all over the tops of our breasts, around our cunts, and deep up butt cracks (not failing to goose our crinkled openings). Which meant that we started the training with a mild buzz of arousal.

Saturday evening, we were again freed to wash and eat, but then had to put on our pony gear before being led, bitted and helpless, to another barn where--surprise, surprise--two mounting stands were positioned opposite each other. Lois and I were soon bound bottoms-up over the padded railings, but in contrast to normal mounting procedure, our heads were left untethered. Moira announced, as if she were granting us a great favor, that she wanted us to have a good view of the next process. And she pointed out that we were surrounded by mirrors so that we could see both ourselves and each other. Oh, boy, I thought--now we're in for it.

Under the right circumstances, I liked a good pounding as much as the next woman, but unlike my boss I didn't moon around dreaming of being tied to a mounting stand while some pony boy fucked my brains out. I was feeling truly humiliated in this position, but then two female hands led in a pair of impressively endowed male slave ponies. Sylvia took control of their reins and dismissed the hands, each of whom fondled her charge's erect shaft just before departing.

Standing between Lois and me, where could we see both her and the stallions, she introduced the slave muscle as Arnold and Charles.

"Ordinarily," Sylvia snickered, "we put these boys in your position and use strap-ons to milk them. Isn't that right, boys?" The two males turned red, nodded their heads, and stomped their right hooves. "We're not man haters, you understand--they need to be milked to avoid a backup of semen, but we don't want them to get ideas above their station in a female-run ranch. Two days before each race meeting, however, we let the stallions mount some of our pony girls and promise them a lot more pony pussy if they win their races. As you discovered," she continued with a little smirk, nodding at me, "that approach seems to really motivate them to win. So, since Arnold out-raced your stallion, it seems only appropriate that he gets to fuck you as well, don't you agree? With any luck, Arnold will do both of you, but he may get too excited about the idea and finish early; we brought along Charles so that nobody feels neglected."

Without further preliminaries, Sylvia led Arnold up until his prick was aimed at my face like a weapon. I'd need a tape measure to decide who had the larger equipment, Arnold or Stud, but at the moment all I worried about was whether that flesh torpedo would fit in either end of me! Just before that monster obscured my view, I saw Moira leading the other stallion, Charles, towards Lois.

There was a pause, evidently waiting until Charles was properly aligned. All I could do was stare at the slab of stiff flesh in front of me.

"And now," I heard Moira chuckling, "for a command that is common at most pony ranches but very rare at the Tribade: suck horse cock, pony slut!"

I didn't have any choice about the matter even if I wanted to resist. Sylvia's hand pushed Arnold's spear against my lips, and he flexed his hips, occupying my mouth on the first thrust. I set to work tonguing and licking the first few inches of a shaft that was far too wide and long for me to swallow entirely. A few seconds later, however, all I could do was hang on and try to breathe. Arnold was so excited by his unexpected treat that he was frantically fucking my face. Sylvia pulled him off (using the leash wrapped around his balls), telling him to calm down or he would finish too soon.

After a momentary respite, I heard and felt someone climbing up behind me. Once again, my cunt was slicker than a West Texas highway during a cloudburst, so Arnold (I think, because it looked as if Charles was doing the same to Lois) had no trouble slamming balls deep into my aging body in only three pushes. An involuntary wail escaped my mouth, as I saw Lois' face contort in ecstasy as she, too, was well-shafted. At least now I could breathe as Arnold quickly built up his rhythm until he reached what I can only call ramming speed. This young and hung stallion firmly grasped my hips while activating every nerve ending in my gash; whoever says that size doesn't matter needs to try Arnold's super-size! Two stray thoughts wandered through my distracted mind. First, I finally understood Lois' obsession with being mounted by well-hung livestock while she was helpless on a mounting stand; she was on to something here. And second, if I'd know how much fun this was, I would have thrown the bet as soon as Sylvia proposed it!

(Lois Sterling's perspective)

Up until that day, the sexual highpoint of my life had been the Sunday morning when I dressed as a pony girl and Stud ravaged all three of my openings. Experiencing a similarly "hard time" while watching my friend Mary get used just as thoroughly, all as part of the humiliation of submitting ourselves to another ranch owner, was nirvana for a submissive slut like me. Mary's face had a goofy grin of happiness on it as every inch of her innards was conquered by Arnold, the 20-something slave stallion who had defeated our own pony boy in a race. I had no doubt that I looked similarly drunk on sex and submission, because I was.

Just when Charles had built up a rhythm that pulverized whatever brains I still possessed, he was suddenly gone from between my legs. I whinnied in frustrated disappointment. For a moment, I suspected that Moira and Sylvia had decided to deprive us of climaxes or at least make us beg to be fucked like the horny little bitches we were becoming. Then I realized that they were just swapping partners--apparently Moira wanted to ensure that the stallion who had bested our champion, Stud, would plant his flag(pole) in both of our sopping boxes. A few seconds later and a new young cock, this one belonging to Arnold, was charging up between my thighs. Bliss.

I think I passed out from the endorphin high of that superlative schtupping. I can't have been unconscious for long, though, because when I came to, I was again facing an oversized shlong, only this one was covered with both of our juices. As a free woman, I had always objected to swallowing cum or licking a sticky prick, but Arnold had given me such pleasure that it didn't bother me (too much) to "clean up afterwards."

I also had to lick Moira again--Sylvia and she had enjoyed watching us get laid low but wanted to get off themselves. The slave mantra of "I live to serve you" popped into my head as my tired tongue dutifully brought her to another orgasm. Then they sent us off to wash up and collapse together for another night's sleep. If nothing else, this weekend of ponies and pussy licking had brought me much closer to Mary.

*****

Sunday was almost an anti-climax, as if Moira and Sylvia had almost (but not quite) run out of evil ideas to use for subjugating their temporary ponies. They still drove us around the ranch a few times, and we spent several hours in the shade by the ranch's pond, licking their hairless muffs and even their starfish--the latter, fortunately was clean but not much fun for me. As the time approached for our deliverance, they drove us back to where we had been dropped off, then flipped us (still fully tacked as ponies) over those same high stools so that we were facing towards the ranch gate. And THEN Moira aimed Charles' shaft into my wet pudenda while Sylvia helped Arnold to the same access in Mary. As I watched the Spinning Wheel truck and trailer drive slowly towards me, I thought I could see the moment in the eyes of Hailie and Bill when they recognized the identity of the ponies being thoroughly screwed in front of them. By now, I had lost all shame, and had a noisy climax just as Charles unloaded inside me and our two designated rescuers climbed out of the truck! Mary was obviously mortified by her situation, but still seemed to enjoy being used. I wonder what Bill thought about a slave stallion cuckolding him in front of so many witnesses.

Then we got to ride, still fully restrained, in the horse trailer until Hailie found a place to pull over and release us from pony bondage. We changed in silence, hugged each other very gently, and climbed into the truck cab to ride home in silence.

The next day, even Mary had to admit that she had enjoyed most of the weekend, although she solemnly swore never to make a bet like that again. (Chicken! I thought--I was already set for double or nothing!) At least my suffering had balanced off the brand she got for me. We actually became sort-of friends with Moira and Sylvia after that, but everyone kept their clothes and their freedom when we met socially.

(If you're wondering, Mary gave Bill the perfect present for his next birthday: an evening driving his old mare wife around the ranch while she was tacked up and unable to speak! Just what every man says he wants--a wife who offers him all her openings and can't complain. Hailie put me in a similar bind(ing) so that they could race the two "sluts" a few times. As dusk fell, Hailie drove me back to the barn, leaving Maud bent over the back of the other sulky, about to get shafted by her lord and master. I hear she saw both celestial and erotic stars.)

Before that, however, Mary and I spent several days recovering from the practical realities of a weekend as ponies--stiff muscles, tired tongues, and over-stretched birth canals! Seriously, stallions like Arnold should come with a "wide load" sign. Three days after we got back to the ranch, I sat down gingerly for a beer with Mary at the end of work. I suddenly had a thought.

"You know, Mary, last weekend I repaid you for the suffering you experienced at the Longhorn, and you paid the price for making that stupid bet. There's still one person who hasn't suffered for all this."

"Who's that?" she asked, but then I saw it dawning on her face.

"The guy who lost that bet for you--Stud," I replied. "I can't decide whether to thank him for the great sex or use the ranch brand on his ass as punishment."

"We both know how much that brand hurts, so we should think twice about doing that to him. Besides, if we brand Stud he'll be out of action for weeks, and I bet you want to have him mount you again--purely for comparison purposes with Arnold, of course."

"Oh, of course," I smirked back at her. "So, until Stud gets to mount Ginger again, maybe we should try Sylvia's motivational techniques."

Mary looked a question at me, which I answered. "You know, milk him, then say that he'd better win his next race or it's strap-on time with HIM on the mounting frame and one of us behind him."

"Sounds fair to me--your next experiment in operant conditioning of ponies?"

(To be continued)