Breeding the Pony Girl Pt. 09

His answering smile told me that, had I told him no, he would actually have left the slave cunt, whom he had undoubtedly rented at a huge price, unused! This guy was too good to be real. As soon as he released my chains, I interlocked my fingers behind my neck in the Present position, and in the same meek voice asked what I might do for his pleasure.

"As I recall, pony, you are a pretty good cocksucker--so why don't you get to work on mine?" Richard replied. As soon as he sat down with pants undone, I was kneeling between those muscular thighs, fondling and tonguing him with as much enthusiasm (and more pleasure) than I had displayed sucking off my @#$%& ex-husband. Of course, this time my mouth was stretched farther than it had been with Jack both because Richard was of a higher caliber and because I had an uncontrollable grin on my face.

He called me on that. "The last time you served me," he observed, "The only criticism I could make of your technique was that you didn't smile and stare into my eyes. An experienced fellatrix should always try to convince the guy that she's having the time of his life swallowing him, but you were too shy that time. I can't see your eyes very well through that visor, but your smile is much more convincing--if I didn't know better, I'd think you really enjoyed giving me a hummer."

Guilty as charged, your worship! I slipped off his shaft just long enough to repeat the same slave mantra I had used earlier, only this time it was heartfelt, "I live to serve you, Master." Then I went back to work trying to accommodate every inch of his tasty prick. THIS was what I had been hoping to experience tonight--being subservient to a handsome, firm man who put me in my place (at his feet) while he used my body thoroughly, completely in charge without being abusive. Almost as much of a rush as Stud and Arnold DP-ing me, only now I had the leisure to really enjoy myself. The whipping Jack gave me had reminded me--if I needed any reminder--of the horrors of real slavery. In the back of my mind, though, was a fairy tale where I was the personal slave and bed warmer of Richard Jameson. For life. Yeah, get real, Lois!

The happiness continued even when he stopped me short of completion and tied me over the mounting bench for the third time that evening. Back when he had played with me in a stall at his ranch, Richard had treated me almost as well as (I assumed) he would have made love to a free woman, taking his time to bring the pony girl to a full boil and then being careful to ensure that the redhaired slave got both pleasure and several satisfying orgasms out of her usage. In this, he had pleasured slave Ginger far better than many guys--including Jack--would have done with Lois Spalding, wealthy free woman.

Now, at the Breeding Barn, Richard treated me to another virtuoso performance of master-gives-pony-girl-mind-blowing sex. Yes, he spanked me, pounded my cunt, and (after removing my plug and some careful stretching) reamed my ass, but he did it all more like a dominant lover than a wealthy man who had rented some strange pony pussy for an hour. And when he finally finished, he brought me down carefully--back rub, lots of water, wiping my dripping crotch clean, and holding me on his lap to cuddle. He was gentle even when restoring my butt plug and chaining me back the way he had found me.

With a final love tap to my butt, my last "John" of the evening quietly said, "I was right, Ginger--you're fantastic as a pleasure slave; I hope to get more use from you in future." Then I heard the door close behind him.

*****

(Mary Jacobs' perspective)

At 10:30 on a Friday night, I was waiting outside the door to room 2D in the Breeding Barn's Petting Zoo, while Hailie was outside 3B. Each of us was waiting to recover a pony prostitute provided by the Spinning Wheel on contract to the Barn, although both of us were worried about the treatment of our boss, Lois Spalding, when she insisted on pretending to be Pony Girl Ginger. Gives new meaning to that TV series about "Undercover Boss;" in this case, the boss was underneath someone while being "covered" as a pony. As for Stud the pony stallion, he had literally shot his wad for the evening, so we'd already cared for him and hitched him inside the trailer.

I knew Richard Jameson by sight, and I knew that Lois had enjoyed her previous "field trip" pretending to be a trainee pony at Richard's ranch, so I was much less worried about how he would treat her tonight than I had been when I found out her ex-husband had beaten and ravished her. I was still surprised, though, when Richard walked straight up to me and very politely began to interrogate me.

"You're Mary Jacobs, right?" He asked, and I nodded. "I don't need to tell you what a great reputation you have as a pony trainer, but I do need to talk to you for a minute before you go get Lois."

"Lois?" I must have misheard him, and pretended to play dumb, but he wasn't buying my act. "You're too smart a woman not to know what's going on, Mary. Trust me, I have no desire to embarrass your boss, but I AM concerned about her. Ginger's pretty good at pony racing, and if she had started at a younger age I'm sure you'll agree that she could have been a champion trotter. She's got the legs, stamina, and coordination for it. Under other circumstances, I'd be offering to help train her in return for a share of the winnings. Not to mention that she has the potential to be a Sandy Foot pleasure slave."

He paused, then plunged on. "Trouble is, I know Ginger's true identity. I'll admit that she fooled me when you sent her to my ranch for training a few months ago. But when I went through my hand receipts and invoices two weeks later, I found her SIN (Slave Identification Number), 875-33-9443. I resisted the urge to stare at her Pinks [slave photos] but read through the entire file until I found her real name at the bottom."

No sense trying to fool this guy, I thought; time for damage control. Out loud I acknowledged the name on the tip of his tongue: "Lois Spalding."

He seemed relieved that I admitted the truth. "Glad you're being sensible. Look, I know you're in a hurry to go take care of her, so I'll be brief. First, as I said, I have no intention of embarrassing her--nobody is going to hear about this from me, and I'll try to put a damper on any rumors I hear. But I AM concerned that such a prominent person is risking her reputation and perhaps even actual enslavement. Heck, she's even got her ranch brand on her bottom! Why is she doing this?"

I shook my head, sighing. "I don't know the entire story. I'm sure you know that some women enjoy role-playing submission and slavery with their husbands or lovers, but she's gone way beyond that. She's a smart woman and a fantastic businesswoman, but she's also very lonely. She had an unsuccessful marriage--ironically, her ex-husband rented her tonight because Ginger reminded him of Lois! Most of the time, Lois seems happy and efficient, but very occasionally she gets the urge to play this game. It started out with just wanting to get laid by a slave stallion, but now, as you can see, she needs a major fix of domination and submission to satisfy her."

I needed to end this conversation quickly. "I don't feel right talking to you about this--I've only answered your question because you know her identity already, but she'll really be angry when she finds out. I hope you can respect her privacy."

Richard nodded. "As I said before, I'm not going to tell anyone or blackmail her or anything like that. I pretended that I thought she was an actual pony girl, so she doesn't know that I've identified her. I WISH she would confess to me so we can work something out, but I imagine it's very difficult for her to admit. I won't tell her I know the truth unless I think she's in real danger. In the meantime, can you at least help me to meet Lois socially, keeping her clothes on, of course?"

I smiled a little. "I've been urging her to do that ever since she came back from your ranch mooning about what a great lover you were!" He couldn't help but smile at the compliment. "If nothing else, she's told me she wants to send all of our new ponies to get your quote superb unquote training, so I'll try to maneuver her to come into contact with you personally. Here's my card, if you need to contact me--but remember that I spend a lot of time with her within earshot."

"I appreciate your trust and your help." Richard nodded. "I'm sure we'll talk more, but right now you need to get Ginger home. I did my best for aftercare, but she's tired."

"Thank you, Mr. Jameson."

"Please, Mary. I hope we're going to be cooperating for her own happiness, so you can at least call me Richard." He walked away, and I turned to take care of my boss and friend. Given that her strange secret had leaked, as was inevitable because of the risks she took, it seemed as if Moira, Sylvia, and Richard were unlikely to exploit her.

*****

(Lois Spalding's perspective)

I was very tired. I mean, I'd had at least four cocks (two of them supersized) and two strap-ons inside me over the past four or five hours. Not to mention having my ex-husband whip my most vulnerable parts. When the truck finally pulled over to release me from my bonds and let me dress again as a free woman, I said almost nothing until I was stretched out in the back of the king cab while Hailie, with Mary riding shotgun, drove us back to the ranch through a moonless night. The lights of inhabited areas became farther and farther apart as we roared down the highway towards home.

Finally, I roused myself to speak to them. "I really want to thank you guys for taking care of me tonight. I know this kind of thing is nerve-wracking for you, and I appreciate the care you give me. And I also loved that Hailie teased and fondled me just as if I were any other pony girl waiting to be bred." I paused and then grinned. "Of course, I didn't appreciate it much when you slandered me to those handlers at the Breeding Barn."

Hailie, eyes on the road, shook her head in the negative. "I would never slander you, ma'am."

I walked right into the trap. "Then what do you call describing me as 'a total slut who was born to the collar?'"

She smirked, then replied. "That was me telling the absolute truth, which is always a defense against any accusation of slander." Mary broke out laughing, looking back at me with a twinkle in her eye.

It WAS pretty funny, but I tried to recover, saying in what I hoped was a friendly voice, "Bitch."

Mary, still looking at me, shook her head. "You've still got it wrong, Lois. I think we've established that, when it comes to playing pony, you're OUR bitch! Not to mention Richard Jameson's." They both guffawed again.

"You got me, 'Mistress.'" I acknowledged with hooked fingers to indicate quotation marks around the title of respect. Then I fell silent planning just how to shred Jack verbally if he dared call me up and suggest that his ex-wife would ever play pony girl at the Breeding Barn... Asshole. It was much more fun to contemplate submitting to Richard Jameson again--I'd happily be HIS bitch any time!

*****

(Stud's perspective)

It must be after midnight when the trailer finally comes to a halt, presumably having returned to the ranch. I can't see out of the trailer, of course, but the sound of three truck doors slamming within seconds of each other indicates that there were three riders in the pickup that had towed me home.

When I'm finally backed out of that trailer, I feel momentarily blinded by the bright street-light style lamps that illuminate the stable yard. But as I look around, there are only three free people--the owner, the stable boss, and Mistress Hailie--and one other pony--Clarabelle--in sight. I'm squinting hard to focus on the ice princess, Mizz Stalling. She looks far more tired than I have ever seen her, definitely more exhausted than the others. And the open collar of her polo shirt, a shirt that bears the Spinning Wheel logo, shows a suspicious red oval half-way up the side of her neck. Is that really the hickey I had planted on Ginger?

YESSS!!! I don't know why she did it, but Mizz Stalling had pretended to be a slave tonight. I wasn't imagining things; I really DID get to fuck the owner's brains out and THEN stretch her tight little ass for her. No wonder she's smiling.

Sherlock Holmes was right: "Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth." In this case, Mizz Spalding and Ginger the pony girl are the same person. Sigh. I may be the slave Sherlock Holmes, but I need someone to talk to, so I can tell that person "Elementary, my dear Watson." It just doesn't sound the same when you whinny.

(To be continued)