Midnight - Segment XVI

Binding Midnight

One more lesson before stepping to the house for a hearty breakfast.

Midnight has been well cleansed inside and out. I watched with paternal pride as Douglas began to take comfort in his governance. Releasing the enema, the excretions gushed to the table top where under my instructions, Douglas waited, spray nozzle in hand, and quickly rinsed all down the drain. Then he doused the nakedness, Midnight seeming to acclimate. If a cat, she would have been purring as soap and a soft chamois laved everywhere... except for her cunny.

Yes, I admonished Douglas, never, ever was a pony girl to benefit from hygiene there.

‘You’ll come to enjoy her smell, Douglas... it embarrasses to no end... and she takes comfort in that.’ divulging more secrets of the masochist.

Still Douglas reveled in handling her, commenting as do most on the amazingly firm blemishless black epidermis and the taut muscling beneath. I encouraged him to take liberties, express his ownership... feeling, caressing, kneading wherever he so chose.

Midnight was in her element and unfortunately the wetness of the bath cloaked what I knew to be a sopping wet vagina.

Massaged then oiled, just as when standing on the auction block, Midnight glows, bringing more awe, Douglas not only again feeling and palpating her entire body, but partaking in the visual delight of her shining blackness, slowly turned to a masterful piece of sculpture, exhibited for our viewing pleasure. 

It is now time for her nap.

“Hobble her, Douglas, always,” my words coming as the ankle restraints are released from the short chains of the cleansing table.

The short strap joins her feet. The yoke is released from the clever stanchions and lastly I unhook her leash. Handing the controlling length of leather to Douglas, he guides her from the cleansing table to where she is to be suspended. There I show him the procedure for securing her from the overhead ropes... the waiting boxes, broad straps and the cords of the pulley to be attached to her yoke.

“When you want her to sleep, slacken the cords from the pulley. She can thus lean and lower herself to rest prostrate. Always assure her entire body, feet included, are off the floor. It is important to imbue helplessness. Make sure she is well spread as well, such assures the humiliation she craves, having her cunny always open for inspection and access.”

Douglas nods, quite the willing student. Task completed, we both step back and observe the fruit of our labors. Do I detect tears? Of shame? Of frustration? Of the humiliation she so desperately demands? 

“She’s crying , Dad,” Douglas also noting. “Why?”

I step behind and without effort deftly slide two fingers into her wide open inviting sex. The simple penetration causes motion. As her naked form gently swings to and fro in suspension, I hold up the drenched digits before Douglas. He just smiles, the imputed knowledge of her arousal answering his own question.

My son is a quick learner, he realizes Midnight is happy.

I hood our pony girl then adjust the pulley cords, her torso lowering to permit slumber.

“Let’s eat.”