Midnight - Segment XXII

Another Morning Ride

Normally a teen of Douglas’s age has some difficulty dragging himself/herself out of bed in the morning. But after introducing him to the inner glee of governing a naked well trussed pony girl, I find in peering out the bedroom window, Midnight is hobbled, harnessed to the light pony cart, bearing the bit with reins in waiting. I quickly don slacks and sweater, knowing that in the cool morning air, my pony girl will be eager to perform for me.  

Yes, Douglas the groom has taken to his new responsibility with aplomb, being promised, in time, that it will be he seated on the cart, reins and crop in hand. So for the first time he has removed the speculum which holds Midnight open, unhooked the labial and nipple weights and unraveled the soft strips of cloth which I use to gently enshroud the skin undergoing slow modification. Soon adorning Midnight’s body with such will also be his responsibility, but for now we take one step at a time. Assuring the stretched skin is properly anointed with the special lotion and the nipples and labia are incessantly pulled with the appropriate tension is a skill to be acquired. It will come.  

I exit the house, Midnight standing in wait, in the coolness those lengthy nipples serving as a thermometer, hardened and sticking straight out, appearing to be darts aimed at a target.

Douglas hears me approach and exits the barn. We exchange morning pleasantries, me swelling with pride, and Douglas stoops to remove the hobbling strap, then hooks it to the cart. I, of course, work Midnight’s fine chainery, tightening at the hips to remove all slack, watching intently as her ringed nubbin rises with the newly applied tension. Such a prominent display, the hormone swelled organ not to be veiled.

She stirs with the sensation and I smile in satisfaction, knowing that with every step, the motions of her thighs will jostle that most sensitive button of feminine flesh. Yes, with inner labia flopping, clitoris jostling, Midnight will run and masturbate herself to a sexual frenzy, ultimate climax denied.

I sit, utter the command ‘giddup’ and swing, the crop nipping the right nipple, bringing what I know to be searing pain. Midnight digs in, buttocks clenching, thighs rippling, her response instantaneous.

Off we go, to our idyllic clearing, no eggs benedict to be offered. Instead I will partake in that other delight never to be served at home.

With the crop I rhythmically work the buttocks, tapping away to bring not suffering but instead the comfort Midnight feels in knowing she’s totally under the control of an exacting Master. Soon, perspiration beads, and despite the early hour, adrenaline has Midnight laboring with zest.

I do believe she’s as eager as I am to reach the apex, the slim chains working their magic.

Step, step, step, a good brisk jog brings us to our destination. I pull to a halt, leaving some slack on the reins, dismount and quickly hobble. When I slip the bit from Midnight’s mouth, she knows there is an opportunity to speak and wastes not the opportunity.

“Please, Master, I need to be masturbated!”

I smile, repressing laughter, the abundance of moisture flowing down her inner thighs not entirely sweat.

“I think my wife will cool your needs,” reminding that she has an appointment on the wooden pony.

“She scares me sir,” truncating further exchange while I cradle her head and her teeth begin to work my zipper.

“She should. A relentless flagellatrix. Though you should be accustomed to being disciplined.”

“When I needed correction. Now I am obedient... and work hard to please.”

“Well this afternoon you will work hard to please while riding the pony and having your buttocks striped,” I offer with a snort.

Midnight has no immediate response, instead knowing to engulf my penis. She likes my taste. And I offer her a feast, relieving myself, her throat opening to take all. It’s exhilarating power. I hear not a single gulp, and I press to empty myself before pending tumescence impedes the flow.

In finishing, tongue and lips assure neatness, her oral training sublime.

“I will do anything for her to avoid being caned,” she pleads.

“You will do everything for her and be caned. Know your place.”

Her lips return to what it is now a semi firm penis. Fellatio begins, no invitation required. I slowly step back and lower to sit on the large rock we’ve worn to smoothness over the years, my hands continuing to cradle Midnight’s baldness. She follows, continuing to suck, hobbled feet managing two short steps, cart following. Mouth continuously engaged, Midnight knows to also lower herself, lips sucking, tongue swishing.

Exquisite!

Whether or not to take her anally is always a random choice. For some reason on this morning I choose not to expend the energy. I let her suck and suck, enjoying the vista, early Spring spurring the flora, photosynthesis transforming the surrounding hills to green.

Sensing growing excitement, her head bobs with vigor, challenging my grip to orally fuck herself. The sensation overwhelms. I explode copiously, deeply, again hearing not a gulp or suggestion that Midnight cannot accommodate and ingest all I offer, her skills extensive.

Lips purse to again assure neatness. Then Midnight knows to pause, letting me revel in the afterglow. After several moments she lifts her head, adoring a male appendage returning to flaccidity.

“I can orally please her, Master. My last owner was a woman. Perhaps that will quiet her hand,” the condemned returning to discussion of her pending execution.

I smile.

“You’re to be caned. Remember to remain wordlessly silent, though I am sure you will scream. Afterwards I will milk you in reward.”

“Full climax, Master?”

“Of course not.”

“Before Douglas? Please no...”

I laugh wickedly knowing that the intense humiliation of being so spread open and slowly purged of feminine essence is the ultimate narcotic for the masochist... and to have such expunged before a young male... nirvana. Midnight, as with most girls of her ilk, remains confused concerning her proclivity. She objects... but she is in so much need...   

“Yes, before Douglas. I may even have him feather you.”

A stunned Midnight obediently works her lips and teeth to right my zipper. She protests, she objects, but deep within she will enjoy.