Friday, September 23, 2011

'Tagged' has been released

At long last 'Tagged' has been released on the Erotic Book Network.


Thursday, September 22, 2011

'96 Months' XXV

The Countess must have loosened the ropes on my neck band for when the daylight returned I was leaning forward, still impaled, but my forehead rested on her shoulder. Her arms were wrapped around me in a mother’s embrace. For some reason tears of relief and pleasure were streaming from my blue eyes.

"Well, Little One, off hand I’d say you rather enjoyed that."

The Countess made light of my extreme physical reaction. I could only rest as she released my ankles from the waist band.

"You’ve made a terrible mess of my thigh. It’s all wet and scratched."
In my mad rush to orgasm I had completely forgotten about my diamonds. The Princess had deliberately implanted them to curtail vaginal sex, and this was exactly what the pony ride had achieved.

"Can you stand for me?"

I planted my feet. As I rose a distinctive "plop" was heard as the huge dildo was evacuated from my colon. The Countess smiled and released the ropes from my neck band.

"I think my leg needs your attention."

Covered with my orgasmic fluids, the Countess’s wet leg reflected in the late morning sunlight. The deep red abrasions from my diamonds were also apparent and I immediately knelt and cleaned the offended area with my tongue. I was amazed at how the Countess had sat and accepted the painful scratches while I availed myself of the pleasure of her warm, smooth flesh and touch. I didn’t fully understand it. Certainly the Princess would not have tolerated such torment while I wallowed in the ultimate climax. It was a gift from the Countess. Something a truly perceptive dominatrix occasionally affords an obedient and worthy submissive. A symbol that a true dominant is impervious to suffering... that which would cause a submissive to cower and whimper.

I finished attending to her thigh and noticed that under the short white cotton tennis skirt she was naked. Her pussy hair was well trimmed and her excited red lips seemed to invite my oral ministrations. Yet I received no command and therefore took no presumptions.

"You know the rules."

She pointed toward the dildo still attached to her leg. I dutifully licked it clean and she unstrapped and placed it in the cloth bag.

"You’re quite exciting to watch, Little One. Some of your body art accentuates that which makes a dominant enjoy a subjugated woman. But other parts make you appear as a wild bird, and your demeanor is that of an animal in heat. I’ll give my final evaluation to the Princess. But I will tell you right now, I cannot recommend with certainty what should be done with you."

I was most disappointed. Somehow, over the past few hours, I had envisioned myself as a pony at the Countess’s farm, working diligently under the crack of the whip to please my trainer.

"You’re too old to be a salable pony. My trainees are 19 at the most. And that’s after I’ve finished with them. You’re approaching 30. The most valuable girls are sold in teams. You can’t be trained as part of a team unless we remove the artwork or your partner is tattooed in exactly the same manner. Also you’re too short. I can barely see your genitalia when I stand in the cart. I like longer legs and higher pussy. Otherwise your strength is good, although difficult to judge since you’re wearing all that iron. No Little One. You won’t be a pony under my supervision. You’re not marketable."

Her words hurt me. I was hoping to leave the Princess behind after my sentence was completed. Although I certainly would have been subjected to endless humiliation and domination under the Countess, her style was much less painful. And, as I had just experienced, the rewards for good performance were most noteworthy.
What was to become of me? Tattooed and pierced like a pin cushion, I wondered what the scars would look like if I had the rings removed and let the my skin grow and close over the countless punctures. But what would it matter with the brightly colored tattoos covering my face and entire body?

The downward spiraling thought process was interrupted by the Countess. She had reached into her bag and retrieved a soft leather hood. It had a zipper in the back and a large sturdy ring was sewn into the top. The Countess had me kneel between her thighs to fit it on. There were holes for my mouth, nose and ears. But nothing for my eyes. The last thing I saw was her coifed pubic area and beautifully sculpted outer lips. I suddenly had an urge to kiss her there. I craned my neck forward as she pulled a zipper and the hood snugly conformed to the contours of my head. She placed a hand on my shoulder and stopped me. I felt the warmth of her breath as she knowingly whispered very close to my ear.

"No. Little One. You’re not ready to serve me there."

I was led back to the cart completely blinded. The Countess pulled me by the small clitoral leash and clumsily followed as best I could. This time I was harnessed nearest the driver for I could feel the Countess’s hand on my backside when she stepped into the cart.

"This will be a test of your obedience and courage, Little One. We’ll start slowly but by the time we take the last path back to the stable, you’ll be laboring to pull this cart at full speed, completely dependent on the tugs of the reins."

It was terrifying. I couldn’t see anything and had to concentrate on the tugs of the nose ring. I was most grateful for the Countess’s encouraging touch. When I failed to turn in time, or tripped I received a vicious slap on one of my breasts. It wasn’t her hand. She must have brought a rubber device of some kind with her. But after I righted myself and directed the cart in the proper direction, she would lovingly smooth her free hand over my derriere or even play very gently with my pussy. She was masterful. I really wanted to please her and I tried hard to do so. But I was blinded.

With amazing patience we spent the remainder of the morning slowly meandering through the paths. After an hour she finally seemed satisfied and I realized that we had successfully made many turns and were moving at a fairly brisk pace. (Keep in mind reader that the weight of the steel bands greatly inhibited any rapid movements.) The whip cracked without touching me and having been trained to react to the sound as well as the feel, I dug my feet into the sand, pumped vigorously with my legs and pulled with all my strength. The cadence of the bells sped up. I felt my perspiration running to down my legs and was most proud of my performance. Soon I heard applause and realized we were near the house. Young giggles indicated that Paul and Paula found my display most amusing.

Still blinded by the hood, the Countess released me from the cart and led me into the stable by the short strap. I walked with more confidence and kept my freed hands on the back of my head as instructed.

"How about a nice douse and rub down?"

I believe she directed me to the middle of the stable where I was displayed every day to the livestock. She connected a cable to my waist band then pushed my head down so that I bent at the waist. A cable was snapped onto the ring of my leather hood. Next, cables were connected to each wrist then she picked up my right foot and deftly hooked the ankle band to a cable. Lastly came my left ankle which brought my weight off the floor. I was suspended in a prone position, parallel to the floor at waist level. It was surprisingly comfortable, my weight was evenly distributed and the smooth broad bands had been designed to hold me in suspension for long periods.

As she gently sprayed me with warm water, the Countess again talked of her farm.

"After every training session the ponies are washed and massaged. I have assistants that do most of the work, but I make sure that I personally wash and rub down each pony at least twice a week. It’s important that I monitor the muscle development and the condition of their skin. Every pony is different in terms of reaction to the whip. One never wants to scar a pony. It detracts from the value."

She toweled me dry. She had an amazingly delicate touch, considering the whipping and the breast slaps she had doled out. She began to apply a warm oil. It felt wonderful. She worked my back and arms and the odd manner in which I was suspended provided her access to every part of my body, front side and back.
"This is how I get to know my ponies. Every nook and cranny. Every blemish. Where the whip has chastised the skin the most. You can imagine the reaction of sixteen and seventeen year old girls. Stripped naked and suspended. Sometimes I just stand back for a few minutes and watch the new girls flush with embarrassment. I inspect everything. It’s important not only to the physical process of development but to the mental process of breaking their will. Making them realize that they are property and that their owner has the rights of ownership, and responsibility of care of course."

She was kneading my breasts as she explained this and it occurred to me that coincidentally with the massage she was giving me a breast exam. Very carefully pulling and then squeezing a portion of each breast, evidently searching for lumps.

"It’s debasing, humiliating. Many girls just cry during the entire first inspection. But the process works. Within a few weeks they accept the fact that their body has a new owner and care and grooming is no longer their concern. Their appearance and care is completely under my control."

The Countess moved to my legs and buttocks. Here, she used her strong arms and hands to provide maximum pressure as each muscle in the legs and buttocks was pulled, squeezed, rolled by her palms and kneaded. She was an expert. But here again she was also examining my muscle development and occasionally pointed out little weaknesses or areas of good development.

I was becoming quite relaxed, almost groggy. (Remember, reader, I had not slept or been allowed to rest in a lying position in years.) I think I fell asleep as the Countess worked over my feet. She remarked that it was the most important part of a ponies anatomy and spent much time on them, even massaging each toe. I came about after she had moved to my front.

"Open your mouth Little One. Let’s do a complete inspection."

I complied and soon felt her fingers probing about, pushing back my lips to look at each tooth.

"The Princess really got into the tattooing," she laughed, "what a shockingly blue tongue!"

She had stretched it out of my mouth and seemed to enjoy toying with it. Lantita’s tongue training became evident to her. She knew enough to realize it was abnormally long and nimble. I could tell she was contemplating something as she paused, then firmly pulling the tip well beyond my lips she stuck two fingers far down my throat. She wriggled them about, poking and prodding and I finally began to gag.

"Very good. You’re orally well disciplined. It’s one of the hardest things for a young pony to learn. Many of their future owners or trainers will be using them here and those poor young throats are most sensitive to foreign objects."

She was still poking as she explained and I spasmodically swallowed again and again as she feverishly worked to thrust her fingers as deep as possible.

"Occasionally a new pony will bite. But she’ll only do it once."

Tears formed in my eyes and I began to cough and gag. I could only imagine how demeaning, mentally and physically, this type of examination would be to a teenaged girl.

Finally, she withdrew her fingers and released my tongue. Within moments I felt my ankles being separated by tugs on the cables. Wider and wider. The movement stopped after my feet and legs were grossly split. I could feel the room air on my vaginal lips. The small gold chains pulled the rings apart as my thighs separated. The Countess again was adoring my diamonds.

"So pretty, Little One. Your blue privates, gold and diamond jewelry are marvelously salacious. This is the type of viewing a pony owner puts his girls through. There’s no point in developing a girl’s backside if you can’t enjoy it. Of course pink is the preferred color, but blue is a nice change."

She was laughing as she spoke and toying with my pussy. I lurched in my bonds when she inserted one then two fingers into my vagina. She explored me there, testing one side of the vaginal wall then the other. Pushing in a little further, then retreating, then pushing.

"You’re very tight here. Such a firm little box. Hasn’t anyone used you here?"
I replied in the negative, surprised to hear my own voice.

"Well, with my girls I open them up and give them a good stretching at least once a week. But if the Princess has a policy, we’ll be less aggressive."

Her knowing fingers worked away. It felt wonderful. No person or object, not even a douche nozzle had penetrated me in years. I became very wet and began to push my hips back toward her in an effort to encourage greater penetration.

"Well, Little One, so eager."

The fingers of her free hand began circling my anus. She was adding more oil.

"At the farm we don’t have suspension cables like this. Since we work with so many ponies, the equipment has to be simple, quick and easy to use. The holding area of the stable has floor stocks. They are just two pieces of wood about four feet long hinged at one end and opened and closed at the other. We have about ten sets lining one wall, ten on the other. When not being trained or bathed or massaged, the pony steps into the stock, places her ankles into the two outside holes. Then she bends over a leather belt, sort of a swing, and places her wrists into the two inner holes. A trainer can then push closed the stock securing the pony for the remainder of the day or for the night. The pony is restrained in a sitting position supported by the swing holding at the tummy, offering access to her privates... and exposed... always well exposed.. It brings the mental capitulation I insist on.

"It’s simple. A single trainer can secure my entire herd in a minute. The outer stock latches itself to the other. In the morning all the stocks can be unlatched just as easily.

"And morning’s when it’s most fun to be in the stable. A trainer walks down each line kicking open the stock with her foot. Thus released the ponies line up to use the toilet. Teams most go together. All ponies go on the command of a supervisor. It’s very embarrassing for the new girls but they get used to it. And I observe at least twice a week, particularly when the ponies move their bowels. It’s important that their nutrition be properly monitored. I have a special toilet facility where the ponies straddle two long smooth brass pipes and relieve themselves into a large basin, it looks like a long, low bathtub with a large drain at one end. I watch and judge the size, color, and moisture of their movement. From this information I regulate the diet accordingly. Teams go together. Its interesting to watch them straddle the brass together and try to coordinate. For if they don’t they’re punished. For new teams its very difficult. Some times I have to use suppositories to help them get into sync.

"Then its on to a large open shower room for shaving if needed and a quick rinse. Lastly, their thumbs are hooked together behind their backs. All the ponies wear small but strong thumb rings.

It’s the only restraint device I allow other than a nose ring. As I’ve indicated I want the ponies absolutely stripped naked, too many cuffs and restraint devices provide covering.

"Well, as the morning ablutions finish the ponies gather in the yard and when they’re all together, Rex takes them for a run. You’ve seen his talent. Rex can handle many ponies, keeping them exercising at a brisk pace and also, most importantly preventing any mutual masturbation. The one problem with simple restraint devices is that, although they can’t touch themselves, the ponies can use their fingers to manipulate each other. Rex is well aware of this and won’t allow it."

As the Countess was talking, one, then two fingers worked themselves into my back passage. She was very gentle, and there was little resistance since I had been opened there by Abdul.

"Your sphincter is excellent. Strong but flexible. Give my fingers a good squeeze, Little One. Yes. That’s it. Abdul must find you very pleasurable."

She continued working me there and I soon felt a third finger enter.

"Just relax. We have much time. Help out a little. Try and push out my fingers."

I did and felt a fourth finger enter me.

"Good. Well after a good hour or so Rex herds the ponies back and they’re fed. After that training begins.

Each pony is in a different stage of development so some go through dressage, others are hitched to a cart. Some have remedial exercise, special workouts I put them through to strengthen certain muscles. You’d be surprised how many ponies I get where the buttocks are perfectly formed but there is very little muscle structure. A firm layer of fat can look good, but won’t help pull a cart. Under my strict training that changes to muscle.

"Push out again for me. Come on."

Her two fingers in my vagina wriggled about encouraging my anal response. I pushed as if to move my bowels and unbelievably I felt her thumb join her four fingers.

"Relax, Little One. Let me work you. I do this with each of my ponies once a week. We get to know each other very well and it establishes a gratifying level of control. Think about a sixteen, seventeen year old girl being fisted like this. They soon learn that I own their mind as well as their body and any and all resistance fades. Some arrive as virgins and I have to break the hymen. In some countries that diminishes the value of the girl, but not with ponies. Their function is to serve, work at the end of a tether and please a master or mistress. Sexual experience or inexperience is meaningless. But it is interesting to be the one to ravish the pony’s symbol of virtue. Most cry, others are just too scared. But its just another part of the program."

The Countess had her entire hand penetrating me. It was simultaneously uncomfortable and reassuring. Reassuring in that this large strong women, a masterful dominatrix, should be inside me, feeling my most private of functional areas.

"With some ponies I fist their vaginas at the same time. It’s quite debilitating. They dare not move and feel helplessly impaled. I control them completely. Let me work myself in, Little One. I can feel your heart beat, and my two fingers in your pussy can feel my right hand squirm and move up your back side. Soon I will demonstrate my control."

Helplessly suspended by the cables I could do nothing as her hand slithered into me. Occasionally she balled it into a fist, other times wriggled her fingers. With each of these subtle movements I writhed with the odd sensation of pain and pleasure. I felt like a stuffed bird. Every time I pushed against her hand to evacuate it, the muscle contraction allowed her to slide her hand in further. She would then ball her hand to encourage me to contract again.

"If your diamonds weren’t so sharp, Little One, my left hand would be in your womb right now."

I had little doubt that this powerful and implacable woman would not in fact impale me there also.

"If you were mine I’d eliminate most of this metal. The bands, most of the rings, they’re not necessary to control a pony and it affords too much covering. My ponies are totally naked. A nose ring, yes. Thumb rings, yes. A clitoral ring, maybe. But not all these. Within days of arrival, even the most recalcitrant pony will stand as instructed for hours with their hands behind their head, behind their back, wherever. And in any pose I command. It’s part of the training that they learn to pose. Every pony is auctioned at some point. Even the ones I don’t own and train for others. Therefore it is important that they learn to exhibit themselves and show off for a potential bidder.

"My auction and exhibition room is one of the largest in the business. Twenty to thirty interested buyers surround a circular stage about two feet high. In the middle of the stage is an opening to the floor below. That’s where I stand so I have the same view as my customers. I bring the Pony out completely naked. They hold their hands behind their heads as commanded and I lead them by a long pole attached to the nose ring, just as I used this morning on you for dressage. I carry a small riding crop for effect, but it is never used. At that point in their training the ponies are quite docile and eager to please.

"The pony follows me up onto the stage and I lead her with the tether, head up, knees pumping high with every step. They’re trained to land softly on their toes when on display, and with their shoulders held back, their small firm breasts point straight ahead. It’s a very titillating scene for the connoisseur. After once or twice around the stage, I bow to the applause then step down into the middle. This allows everyone to focus attention on the pony and I can walk her with the tether and have the same view as the audience.

"Buyers with serious interest come closer, needing to observe every minute detail of the pony’s muscle and flesh. The casual viewer and connoisseur knows that the more pleasurable view is at a distance.

"By that stage of a pony’s training, they are well aware of the salacious exhibitions a trainer or owner requires and all modesty has been, not so much removed, as taken from them. It is amazing how they become almost eager to pose in the most debasing positions. Even ponies who maybe a little reluctant know that by the end of the auction every part of their most intimate anatomy will be exposed and inspected. Therefore, in order to proceed with the bidding and end the exhibition they are compliant.

"I usually open the auction and receive six or seven the bids. Then, the top three bidders are allowed five minutes of hands on inspection. Not as thorough as yours was this morning, but a good buyer knows where potential weaknesses can be and immediately subjects that area to close inspection. This system also encourages casual bids, some people attend just to become one of the top three so they can have the enjoyment of giving a pony a good close examination. I have one woman who buys very rarely but almost always obtains inspection rights. She has become one of the finest judges of pony flesh that I know of and I welcome her as long as she occasionally bids aggressively.

"This woman can humiliate a pony faster than any owner or trainer I know. Her favorite inspection is to have the pony stand with feet wide apart, touching her toes. That’s when she splays the outer lips with her own hands and has the pony do a slow turn to reveal her most intimate parts to the crowd. Some ponies break down. Others flush. I think it helps bring in more bidders.

"After inspection, the bidding is reopened. If someone other than the top three wants to bid that is fine. But they bid without right of inspection."

The Countess’s hand was well inside me at that point of her story. I didn’t think she could go much further but she did begin to move her fingers about, then began to laugh.

"Do you have to go, Little One? I haven’t been very attentive. Why don’t you go for me?"

I had certainly learned over the years to respond to such requests. But restrained as I was, hanging face down at the end of cables was unusual, and with the Countess’s hand well inside me it became impossible for me to concentrate.

"Oh. Let me help you."

Again her fingers moved inside me. Her left hand exited my vaginal passage and rubbed my lower belly. She began pushing against my abdomen. Then the fingers of her penetrating hand moved inside me and I felt my liquid flow and heard a splatter on the tile floor. Was I doing this?

"Oh. Good girl. Let’s stop for a second."

Her fingers changed position and the flow curtailed. I was mortified. The Countess was in control of my most basic of functions. With her knowing fingers, she simultaneously pressured my bladder to start the flow, but then squeezed off my tubing with her penetrating hand. Over the next few minutes she turned the flow on and off at her whim, laughing and mocking me. I can only imagine what to be the reaction from the livestock. And the new blonde must have been agog.

The demonstration of the Countess’s complete control finally ended as my bladder emptied to the floor, although I would not have doubted she could have pressured me for more drops if challenged. I was grateful to be blindfolded for this most humiliating of displays.

"Now let’s see if you can bring yourself off, Little One. My hand is certainly bigger than Abdul’s manhood, I can manipulate you with my fingers better than any man can with his penis."

The Countess again played with my pussy with her free hand. The strange sensation of being stretched and penetrated seemed to promote some latent feeling of sensuality, for despite the enormous orgasms I had experienced at the oasis, she soon brought my vaginal passage to a slippery wetness. I struggled to close my thighs and grip the playful digits. She immediately recognized the reaction as the first step toward bringing me to another torturous climax, and the fingers began to withdraw. I pushed back with my hips and lower body to engulf them and this caused me to impale myself even further on the hand within my rectum. Soon I felt myself swinging on the cables. The combined discomfort of further anal penetration with the delicate, sensuous fingers in my pussy were maddening. The Countess laughed at my struggles and moved her fingers very little as I worked myself into a frenzy. The suspension cables allowed me some movement and I used it as best I could to friction my pussy on the Countess’s fingers. With each motion, a wave of sensation from my impaled backside flooded my brain’s pleasure center. I was shamelessly fucking the Countess’s hand as she laughed and on occasion twisted her hand in my backside. She let the frenzy continue, thoroughly enjoying my lewd antics, knowing full well how close I was to smashing through the invisible wall which kept me from jumping into the pit of orgasm.

Finally tiring of the game, she thrust her fingers well into my vagina, clenched her right hand into a fist, and when she hooked the fingers penetrating my pussy so they almost touched the fist in my colon, the resulting climax was as intense as I had ever felt. Bright lights seemed to shine right through the leather hood. Every muscle in my body went limp. I could feel my juices gush, then splatter onto the tiled stable floor.

Did she withdraw her hands? I must have swooned, for my feet touched the floor and I could hear the naked blond teenagers talking and laughing. Someone was releasing me from the torture of utmost pleasure.

Monday, September 19, 2011

'96 Months' XXIV

The Countess took me into the stable and hitched me to the cart. She connected me to the front of the long pole which left an open space of about three feet between my backside and where she stood in the cart. She removed the thin gold chains which ran from my nose ring through my ear rings to the neck band. In their place were two long strands of leather, one connected to the nose ring, through, the ear ring on the right side, through a ring on the neck band and back to the cart. The other leather strand went through similar rings on my left.

"I won’t make you wear a bit today. It takes several sessions to become accustomed to the breathing when wearing one. Your nose ring will suffice. When I pull left you go left. Right when I pull right. Pulling both means slower. A sharp pull means stop. The whip will indicate when to start and speed up."

She left the stable and returned minutes later carrying a cloth bag. She had changed clothes from her tight soft leather skirt and halter and was now wearing what appeared to be a short white tennis outfit. Rex followed her from the house.

From her bag she retrieved a simple short length of soft leather, about five inches long. She knelt down and tied one end to my clitoral ring, letting the remaining four inches dangle between my legs.

I soon learned that the open space behind me on the pole (where Twelve had been tethered when Lantita took us out) worked to the Countess’s advantage. She was afforded full use of the long whip, where Lantita could only use a short one on the second pony. Again, the Countess’s strokes were crisp, well aimed and effective. There was no doubt that she was in control and it soon became second nature for me to respond to the tugs of the reins and crack of the whip. The cart was very heavy and the Countess was a large, well developed women, but after countless snaps, mainly on my breasts we attained a satisfactory speed. Rex scampered along beside me.

"Keep your knees apart, Little One, show me your diamonds. I want to see them sparkle in the sun."

It was an awkward way to run. Bent at the waist with legs apart, I learned that the Countess was right about the required use of different muscles. My bells were ringing in step with my feet as we found a good challenging pace. The devilish leather cord hanging from my clitoris swung in cadence with the bells and the small gold chains pulled at my labia rings. I found that I was slowly masturbating myself with each step, and the occasional sting of the whip spurred me on to keep the cord swinging. The Countess was a wizard at pony training. I was truly working very hard to please her and maintain the pleasurable sensation in my clitoris My breathing was heavy, sweat pored down my legs and my wet feet picked up dry particles of sand. The Countess had expertly brought me to a demanding but sustainable rhythm and she indeed was working me into a lather. My trainer seemed gratified and I, in turn felt a glow in performing for her.

After an hour of weaving through the paths of the farm, the Countess directed me toward the oasis and picnic area. There she stopped the cart and inspected me, smoothing her hands over my stomach and legs. She slipped her hand between my thighs and felt for my the labia rings. Inserting two fingers into my pussy she wriggled them about and laughed.

"Goodness, Little One. You’re gushing. Doesn’t the Princess masturbate you?"

It had been three weeks since my last visit to Abdul and I was indeed in need of relief. I indicated as such to the Countess.

"Well. You’ve been good. Let’s take care of that. But first, empty your bladder for me like a good pony girl"

She was holding apart my lips as she spoke and her request came as a surprise. In the stable I just let myself go on the tiled floor as did the livestock and in the house Paul or Paula held the urn under me. Having her hold me there was strange but over the past few hours I had become accustomed to her control and somehow felt comforted as she toyed with a nipple with her free hand. I soon splattered the sandy soil with my fluid and she aimed the flow away from my feet.

"Very good."

Next she held a water jug for me to drink and spooned some of the farm’s special mush into my mouth. She was quite delicate and caring and she inspected my reddened breasts while I ate.

"Your skin takes nicely to the whip, Little One. The years of caning have produced a ruggedness and durability most pony girls don’t have."

Rex sat and watched attentively, ready to jump at any command. He seemed very interested in me and I could tell he was specially trained to attend to ponies.

"Why don’t you take a swim with Rex?"

She unhooked me from the cart.

"Rex. Swim!"

She pointed to the pond and Rex instantly began barking and growling. I began to walk toward the water and he nipped at my leg.

"When outdoors, Rex always keeps his ponies running, Little One. And don’t touch yourself."

The Countess read my mind as it was one of the few times my hands were free. I ran to the pond with Rex barking and he forced me straight into the water. It was cold! The oasis must feed from deep below the surface. But then, the desert temperature was well into the nineties therefore any liquid would feel cold by comparison. My nipples immediately hardened but the cold felt good on my excoriated skin. Rex swam also. I had to be very careful wearing the steel bands. The added weight made it difficult to stay afloat. The Countess sat on a rock with the cloth bag. I could see her retrieving things and hanging cords from the branch above her.

It was a very pleasant morning and the swim continued I contemplated the differing styles of control and domination between the Countess and the Princess. I feared the Princess and therefore obeyed. With the Countess I wanted to obey and she provided a girl with just the right incentives to want to obey. But with both women, obedience was attained.

Rex and I swam for about twenty minutes. The freedom of movement was a rare treat. The Princess was a firm believer in restraint and I hadn’t slept in a prone position much less been allowed to move about for years. Finally the Countess called to Rex and the canine in turn herded me back toward to cart. My freedom was short lived.

I trotted to the Countess. She was sitting on a rock with two strong ropes hanging from a tree limb above her. But I was shocked to see a large dildo strapped around her exposed right thigh just above the knee. It was big and thick pointing straight to the sky.

"Over here, Little One. I have a treat for you."

She beckoned to me as my trot slowed in confusion. Rex nipped me and I sped up.

"You’re going on a ride. Come on, you’ll enjoy it."

The Countess spread her legs and guided me to stand straddling her right thigh. She attached a rope to a ring on each side of my neck band. She had various "D" clamps ready and she very gently reached around and lubricated my rectum.

Satisfied with the condition of my back passage, she clamped my wrist cuffs behind my back and spoke.

"Abdul tells me you enjoy having your backside used. Well, I’m going to show you a special little amusement I reserve only for good pony girls."

She tightened and adjusted the ropes then slowly brought up her thigh until the tip of the thick rubber phalanx met my blue tattooed orifice.

"Be good and take it. You’ll enjoy it. I promise."

Over the years of programmed stretching my once tight grotto opened and the head slipped in with minimal discomfort. She pulled, tightening the ropes more with her strong arms and the tip of dildo slipped out a little as my body rose. She then raised her thigh a little, reinserting the rubber manhood. Next she pulled up my right ankle and clamped it back to my waist band. When she picked up the left ankle, my weight shifted so that I hung from the neck band, then forced to assume a kneeling position, I was slowly impaled as she raised her thigh and slid in more of the dildo. It was a strangely helpless, but somewhat pleasurable sensation. My labia pressed against the smooth flesh of her thigh. Feeling her warmth I couldn’t help rubbing my neglected pussy against her leg.

"Yes, Little One. Use the Countess’s leg. Go ahead enjoy."

Being so encouraged I bucked forward and back, frottaging on her leg. After a few seconds she lowered her thigh which simultaneously retracted the dildo and increased the tension on my neck. The pleasure was sensational and I looked straight into her smiling face and could tell she reveled in the control she had. Next she slowly raised her thigh, thus fucking my anus with the dildo attached to her leg. With just this double action I could have ridden all day and climaxed over and over. But then she reached down and grabbed the little leather strap attached to my clitoral ring. I thought I would faint as she held it and countered my forward and back frottaging motion with the slightest of yanks on the strap.

"Yes, Little One. We call this the pony ride back at the farm. A little pony gets to ride the trainers knee. My girls aren’t ringed like you but suitable stimulus to the clitoris is easily found."

Up. Down. Forward. Back. Visions of riding on my father’s knee when I was a child crossed my mind. I supposed the similar posture and position were intentionally conceived by the Countess. After all, the psychological side of dominance is as important as the physical.

I could feel my juices begin to run down my thighs and I could only imagine how wet the Countess’s thigh was. Rex was barking and becoming quite excited, with my scent I supposed.

The Countess began to exaggerate her leg motion and the full length of the dildo was sliding in and out of my once tight rectum. She felt my orgasm coming before I did. Her left hand began toying with my right nipple. Pinching. Twisting. Pulling. I opened my mouth and let out a loud groan. Then a cry. It was then that she leaned forward and took my left nipple in her mouth. I gasped for breath. She bit my left nipple, pinched my right and gave the clitoral strap a brisk pull. I clenched my thighs around hers and could feel a stream of fluid escape. I cried out again as the enormous orgasm cascaded through my entire nervous system.

"Oh. Yes Little One. Attack my leg. Crush the big penis between your buttocks. This is as good as it gets. Restrained and forced to make love to my thigh and a rubber phalanx. Come on give me more. You’re not done yet."

I wasn’t. Two more clenches, not as strong as the first, but seemingly as pleasurable. The flow gushed.

I think I swooned. All motion seemed to slow and then stop. My chin fell to the neck band . This was the position I assumed every night when sleep gratefully overcame my unending torment. But it had never happened during the day.