Breeding the Pony Girl Pt. 13

It was finally done, with my signature (appropriately enough) BELOW those of Richard, Hailie, and (as my guardian) Nikki. As a de facto slave, I didn't even get a copy of the final contract, although Mary received a copy to present to my board! The Longhorn produced laminated cards for Richard and Hailie, designating them as my master and mistress, and later on Chad would enter the names and duration of my agreement into the National Slave Registry in case questions ever arose about my status. Richard and I had decided to brazen it out, pretending it was a joke (an extension of the wedding promise to love, honor, and obey) if any of our peers found that in the registry.

The group finally broke up, with me hugging everyone, even (awkwardly) Chad; I took the liberty of praising his superior performance, and he was still young enough to be flattered. Then the group dispersed as Richard used his own leather cuffs to restrain my wrists before marching me across the busy parking lot to his king cab truck. I still was uncertain as to whether and when he would release me from naked bondage, but I was relieved to discover that he had always wanted to follow one of the informal traditions of slave grading--in order to earn my clothes back, I had to kneel down in front of everyone in that parking lot and suck him off. That was a real thrill, a combination of love and submission that I can't really explain. I dutifully held his sticky goo on my outstretched tongue until he granted permission to swallow.

Then and only then he raised his naked bride from her knees and offered me a bottle of mouthwash to "clear my palate" after deep-throating both Chad and Richard. After that, he enfolded my nude body into his arms, controlling a long kiss that only broke when he turned me to face away from him so that his hands, which previously had been roaming all over my butt cheeks and crack, could explore my boobs, nipples, and clit as well. He helped me dress in blouse, jeans, and "normal" boots, then hugged me again and lifted me up into the cab. As we drove off, my fingers were already exploring his thighs through the jeans fabric.

*****

We put off a honeymoon for some time, because we both had work to do on our ranches, but that didn't prevent us from experimenting with our new relationship. We began to refer to the two aspects of being married equals and being a master and pony as "bed versus bridle."

Not all of our dominance and submission games involve ponies, of course. One evening, after we'd been cuddling and watching TV (while both critiquing the film as unrealistic), Richard suddenly announced that he wanted to tie me to the bed. I tried to run away to tease him, but he caught me in three steps, then used his weight and muscles to hold me down while he tied ropes (which suspiciously were already in place on the bed) to restrain my four limbs. I ended up buck naked and spread eagled on his big bed. Then he began to slowly, slowly fondle me all over until I was begging for more attention. At which point he focused first on my breasts, fondling and nibbling until I was arching helplessly, mindlessly begging for more. He kissed his way down my belly and gave my clit and cunt the same treatment. When he lifted his face, covered with my juices, I thought for sure that he would climb aboard and pound me stupid. Instead, he paused to wipe both of us off and then knelt straddling my shoulders, feeding me his delicious sausage while he reached back and kept my nipples and clit aroused.

Eventually, even Richard's patience wore thin, or perhaps my entreaties got to him. But he still had one trick left--he untied my ankles from the bottom corners of the bed and re-tied them to the same corners that already restrained my wrists. This left me bent double with both of my lower entrances, not to mention my ass, completely exposed for his pleasure. He proceeded to playfully spank me for about 20 blows, then mount me and fuck me for no more than 20 strokes, and finally re-center himself to stretch my colon. I think we both came after less than a minute of anal pounding. God, what a marvelous, dominant lover. What he finally wiped me off and released me, I could think of nothing else but wanting to renew my FINO contract in 4-plus years so he could use me all over again.

Which didn't prevent me from demanding equal time the next night. Richard was tied in almost the same position (I wanted his legs together so I could straddle him more easily) as I teased, fondled, and finally rode cowgirl on him. Then I tied HIS ankles to the same bedposts as his wrists and brought out the lube and a strap-on! I gave him the same argument I had originally used when playing pony--he needed to feel helpless and penetrated to better understand his ponies. Since Richard's ass was virgin, I used a dildo that was significantly smaller than his cock that had cornholed me, but he still took it up the ass like a good boy. (I don't think he really minded, but on principle, once he was freed, he bent me over the end of the bed and tanned my hide properly.)

(Richard Jameson's Perspective)

I know it sounds corny but being married to Lois is a constant joy. On the one hand, she's an educated, smart person who's sufficiently different from me that we are not constantly echoing each other. On the other hand, she is the horniest little slut I have ever met, with or without a collar, and no matter how much I restrain her, demean her, and stuff all her orifices, she just purrs and begs for more, like a cat who's been given a gallon of cream. If I kept her as a full-time, voiceless pony girl, I think her only concern would be that she needed more sex. We both want to have children, and given our ages we need to start in on that fairly soon, but I think she would explode if she didn't get her minimum daily allowance of cock and kink.

Before she married me, I had introduced Lois to Nancy Bradford to demonstrate that there were other educated women who enjoyed playing pony slut on a regular basis. I think I've created a monster, though, because the two of them, together with half a dozen of Nancy's friends, spend almost every Monday noon hour at the Breeding Barn Café--not to eat lunch, but to get a "nooner" while posing as slave ponies. They have an informal club called Monday MILFs--Mares I'd Love to Fuck--and Lois seems willing to let almost anyone use any of her openings. I have given Lois permission to get laid anytime by anyone she wants provided that she takes safety and health precautions, but I never realized just how horny the silly broad (and I mean that term affectionately) could be. (The Breeding Barn tested everyone who enters for STDs and all of these women have birth control, so this is as close to safe promiscuity as one can get.)

Frankly, the fiction that Lois Spalding-Jameson and Pony Girl Ginger are two different entities was wearing thin even before she married me--now you can barely see the difference between the two. Sometimes I think she'll forget to put on her safety helmet and appear barefaced at the Breeding Barn.

To be fair, Lois both says and acts as if I'm her favorite partner; most of the time, if I'm there, she turns down propositions from everyone else except the husband/boyfriend of whichever one of Nancy's friends asks me to mount her that day. When I can't make it, she always asks my permission to play pony slut with her friends. So long as she follows those rules, I can live with the idea of my hot "slave" wife cuckolding me. The family that shags together, stays together.

One day, after giving her permission because I would be otherwise engaged, I finished my business meetings early so I went to the Breeding Barn about 12:30, seeking to surprise my bride. I was the one who got the surprise, though. After inquiring at the front desk, I was referred to a multi-couple room where the Mares-I'd-Like-to-Fuck were tacked up and accepting all "Cum"ers. Strapped side-by-side on three breeding frames were three mature but sexy pony mares--a brunette, a redhead, and a blonde. The first two were, naturally, Nancy Bradford and my own blushing bride--although I was always amazed that she COULD still blush after all the times I had seen her willingly surrendering to other men. I eventually recognized the blonde as a physician and mother of three named Grace Allen, aka "Buttercup." No less than five brands were burned into her extremely fit, 5 foot 9 inch body: the Big D of a Sandy Foot Girl on her left buttock, the Broadstone Institute's B on the right; two intertwined horseshoes holding three stars on her upper right thigh, and a circle A over her right shoulder blade. When one of Grace's partners for the day suddenly pulled out of her rectum, I noticed another B, this one inside a diamond, on the sensitive inside of her left butt cheek. This woman had suffered excruciating pain to acquire such a collection, all testaments to her submission.

Three sexy middle-aged mares getting used was par for the course at a Monday MILF meeting like this. But the surprise was that the six young men who were vigorously shafting, reaming, and face-fucking these women were all teenagers. I consoled myself that the Breeding Barn was VERY strict about enforcing a minimum age of 18 for anyone to enter the premises--even I had to produce two forms of identification, one of which had to bear my birthdate. So these young men were definitely of legal age, but it was still both shocking and arousing to see them using three submissive sluts (including my wife) who, despite their toned and youthful appearance, might almost be old enough to be their mothers! I was glad to see that the sextet [pun intended] of male masters always changed condoms before ass-fucking any of the three mares. Most of the time, three of the young men were using pony mouths to revive their hard-ons while the other three gleefully penetrated and pummelled the plush pussies and posteriors of their captives. All six men were so excited by the sexual smorgasbord that they tended to come rapidly in whichever opening they were using at that moment. Then, after washing themselves off and using the nearest set of pony lips (including my horny wife's) to restore their erections, these guys would choose another orifice to plunder. The whole time they were praising the women as the "finest pony whores in Texas" and similar flattering if crude comments.

It seemed as if each of the six guys had tried out every one of the nine possible pairings before they finally called a halt. Then they lovingly washed down and again praised the older women before reluctantly leaving, with the women promising another such pony orgy at some time in the near future.

After kissing my exhausted slave wife, I asked her where she had found all those "young masters"--had she been flashing her boobs at high school parking lots?

Nancy/Rosebud replied, giggling, "It's all my fault, although I've got to say that 'Ginger'" (she nodded towards Lois) "didn't raise any objections. That was my nephew, Carl, and five of his friends from college. For my nephew's 18th birthday, my husband Hank gave Carl what every young man wants--free use of a sex pony, in this case me! He celebrated losing all three of his virginities using another slut and me, so naturally he couldn't resist bragging a little at college. His friends didn't believe him, so Buttercup and Ginger agreed that it would be fun to prove him right! Those guys were so excited that they usually came within two minutes of mounting us, but fortunately 18- and 19-year old students have incredibly short recovery times. Thank heavens--if they had only fucked us once, it would have been very frustrating, but over the course of an hour or so I got off several times. Just the idea that young guys would find old broads like us sexually attractive was a real turn-on."

Lois and Grace agreed, but for once it seemed as if even my Eveready fuck slut had gotten her fill, literally and figuratively, of cock. So I let her sleep in the car as I drove her back to my ranch. That night, she gave me the blow-by-blow (pun intended) but insisted that she would much rather have my cock twice a night (which was about my usual) rather than six sex-crazed young men playing tag team on her ass and coming prematurely.

(Lois Spalding-Jameson's perspective)

After our crazy lives settled down slightly, Richard and I finally got to take our much-delayed honeymoon on a Caribbean island. Most of it was the kind of idyllic vacation every bride dreams of, with equal proportions of romantic dates and hard sexual pounding! However, Richard insisted that I run several miles and work out every day, and before retiring for bed every evening I had to perform (nude of course) to convince him that my pony trotting and cantering form was perfect.

Richard had suggested another daring "field trip" as Ginger, with only he, me, Mary, and Hailie knowing the truth. We had told all our friends we would be gone for three weeks, but then secretly returned a week early so that, after one brief practice trot under Hailie's supervision, Ginger could enter an older-filly and mare trotting race at one of the periodic racing events of our ranch association. With any luck, no one would associate this pony girl with the obviously absent Lois. That meant that, at least in daylight, Richard had to remain in hiding, although he watched the races through the elaborate closed circuit TV systems.

I was standing in a barn, almost completely tacked up, with Hailie binding my forearms behind me. All that would be left after that would be my bit and bridle, safety helmet, and voice converter. I was pleased that Richard snuck into my stall to grope me and wish me luck in the race, but he couldn't resist reminding me of the informal tradition that losing ponies were bent over and tied to fence rails, free for anyone's use during the evening mixer/orgy known as Social Corral!

I shook my head and accused him of jinxing me. "If I lose now, you, Mary, and Hailie will all accuse me of throwing the race just so I can be everyone's pony slut this evening!"

"Darn straight," my husband replied. "So you'd better do your best, right?"

"Yes, Master."

I DID honestly try my best but lost the race anyway. I knew that Mary, Hailie, and Richard would harass me for months about that. Still, since I HAD lost, I decided that I might as well indulge my submissive desires and enjoy being used by everyone who felt like a piece of mature pony cunt.

I wasn't the only one out to enjoy herself in the dimly lit corral that evening. As Hailie led me over to the losers' railing, I caught sight of my head cook, Bill Jacobs, talking with Moira and Sylvia, the lesbian operators of the Tribade Training Ranch. What really got my attention was that all three of them were playing with a distinctly older mare, who was also completely helpless in pony tack including helmet but not a bit. I knew there was only one woman who had could combine that mature body with the Spinning Wheel brand on her buttock--my manager Mary had given her husband another evening where he could use his wife as a pony slut in public!

I didn't see any more of that quartet because Mistress Hailie brusquely bent me over and bound my legs well apart, available for anyone to use. Tied next to me was another of the day's losers, Charlene, the ex-queen of the pony trainers. While we were waiting for our mystery "dates" to begin shafting us, I tried to whisper encouragement to Charlene. I was relieved to learn that she had come to terms with her slavery and had decided to enjoy the chances for sexual pleasure that she couldn't avoid anyway. We had reached the point of giggling, accusing each other of deliberately losing our races, when the first four guys stepped up to spit-roast us. MMMM, good. Somewhere in there I remember a disguised Richard, slowly plumbing the depths of my vagina and whispering how much he loved his pony slave wife!

After a long time of slurping, groping, moaning, and general gang-banging, I became aware of a VERY large cock that suddenly took complete occupancy of my defenseless slave cunt in three massive thrusts. Looking back between my legs, I saw two muscular legs encased in the male version of pony boots, without the stiletto heels. That meant my latest sex partner was one of a handful of well-endowed slave stallions at the race, let loose for a rare evening of play.

The mystery stallion pounded me vigorously for the next five minutes, stretching and exploring every inch of my birth canal while occasionally reaching around to fondle my nipples and clit into a frenzy. Just when I thought that his impossibly-huge shaft would have to flood me with cum, he abruptly pulled out, then extracted my ponytail plug and replaced it--rather gently--with his dick! I knew only one stallion who could stretch my ass like that, so at first I was unsurprised when "Stud" identified himself as he slowly pumped in and out of my most private passage. Then I suddenly focused on what he was saying.

"That's right, it's me, your favorite Stud. You have a fantastic ass for fucking, but you know that, don't you, Ginger--or should I say 'Mizz Spalding'? I finally decided that you kept staring at my butt and whipping me because you really wanted me to give YOU a pain in the ass. What do you say, little slut--shall I stretch you out one more time?"

I had worried that he might know my secret, and now he had confirmed it. I'd have to figure out some way to keep him quiet, of course--imagine people knowing that Lois Spalding, ranch owner, got her jollies by having one of her own slave stallions ram her fore and aft?

Then I thought: screw it. Lusting after Stud was how I got into this crazy world of faked slavery and submission, and at the moment I had no way to stop him so I might as well enjoy the ride. My husband had approved our coupling by sending me to be spread out across that fence railing. I was a faux filly who craved forceful fornication, and that young man was perfectly designed to provide the fucking any good slut yearns for.

Channelling Stockard Channing as Rizzo in the movie "Grease," I answered him with a lot more assurance than one would expect from a helpless woman with a 10-inch dick shoved up her butt:

"Less talking and more fucking, stallion. I bought you to screw ponies, not run a debating society. Come on, you big Stud, REAM my ass!"

So he did.

(The end)