To her bedroom, Alexandra turns on the television and disrobes. Onto the screen comes the naked hanging form in the basement stable. The camera system, intended for concerned parents in monitoring sleeping infants, is most suitable for assuring the well bound steed is not in danger. With the signal coming through the internet, she can surreptitiously monitor her possession while working in the office as well.
With the end of a long day, the bed attracts. Though relatively early, Alexandra must rest. She will have a predawn start to her day. Exercise for her captive steed, securing him to the treadmill for a modest two mile run... comparatively light exercise in that she will be running him extensively about the estate late Saturday morning. Then will come more ablutions and feeding.
Slipping under the bed covers, she thinks of all the exacting care her mother afforded her herd of human beasts. Though argument could be made that their captivity was cruel, they were spared nothing in terms of physical care. And so it continues with Robert. Her words come back to mind concerning his prospects given manumission... nothing to offer the world other than his brute strength and stamina... oral stamina included... a humorous thought... coming to mind the endless cunnilingus the steed has been trained to provide.
Lights dimmed, the television glows in silence, Alexandra enjoying the cooling smooth sheets tantalizing her nakedness. She had always slept in the buff, a habit ingrained in being brought up on the hedonistic tropical island. Mother insisted, the climate so hospitable, never hot, certainly never cold. And so her nude prepubescent form would roll from her little divan every morning and slip over her head a loose, white cotton shirt, barely long enough to cover her navel... her only covering.
Such encouragement offered by libertine Mother Morris, running, jumping, skipping about the island of domineering women and subjugated well trussed males with buttocks flashing, her underdeveloped slit bared to all... including those held in bondage.
In maturing, Alexandra began to realize the effect on the bound males held in constant chastity. She learned the term ‘rutting’, mother’s intent and desire to keep her many steeds on the edge sexually. Mother liked them kept ‘frisky’ was the simple explanation given the young daughter. And her cute well rounded cheeks filled many a gawking male eye.
As slumber beckons, her thoughts and the image of her naked captive bring dreams... and of course such are of her childhood on the idyllic island... being licked by subservient males.
*****
“It’s autumn, but there’s still quite a bit of sun. I want to keep you a nice shade of golden brown.”
The words come as the imposing hands of Alexandra Morris complete lathering her steed with sun lotion. In the halogen lights of the basement stable his six foot two frame gleams. She takes pride in her well muscled human equine. And she takes delight in deciding on the shade of brown he will cast. In completing, right hand going to the leash of the testicle clamp, she thinks of her mother’s preference, constantly having her herd put to pasture and sunned.
‘I want them black as coal,’ Mother Morris would exalt, imbuing on daughter Alexandra the notion that the whims of a governing woman are edicts. Training, conditioning, shaping, exercising... and even determining a steed’s coloring.
“Rather cool this morning, Robert. A good morning run to the overlook and by the time we arrive it’ll be quite pleasant. I’ve packed a nice lunch. And if you run well you may have some grapes.”
“Yes, that would be excellent, Ma’am.”
Miss Alex gently tugs, a sightless Robert instantly steps forth to follow, to the light pony cart.
“Would you like to put on a nice stand for me?”
The quest comes as Robert cautiously steps between the leading prongs and idly stands as Miss Alex works to make his nakedness one with the sleek two wheeled cart.
“Yes Ma’am.”
“Yes, the cool morning air can be exhilarating for a big sensitive penis.”
Tacking human equinse since youth, within moments Robert and the cart are one. The testicle leash is drawn backed and tied off at the front of the cart. A thick leather waist band is buckled in place and secured to the prongs. Bit and bridle are put in place and lastly Miss Alex fondles the male package, the fingers of the left hand diddling the entrapped scrotum and the fingers of the right slipping away the infibulating clasp. She steps back, smiling in calm confidence as the enormous penis swells within the confines of the steel cylinder, the fleshy foreskin retracts and the massive purple glans penis greets her gaze.
“My, my, you do need to be masturbated Robert.”
The bridled head nods enthusiastically, shaking the many buckles and straps and bringing a sinister laugh.
“Perhaps next week,” her words bringing a pout of dejection.
Miss Alex strips away the strip of blinding cloth. She waits, letting the eyes adjust then steps away to enter the code for the overhead door. The door rolls upwards, Miss Alex grabs a crop and mounts.
To the sound of a throaty ‘haw’ and the stroke of the crop, Robert knows to pull... and pull vigorously. Niceties end when a steed is put to harness. Mother Morris was a disciplinarian and there was no laziness in her herd. Such has passed on mother to daughter and a well trained Robert knows to pull, run fully until otherwise directed, and for sure follow the guiding hands of the reins.
Though the way to the scenic overlook is well known, Miss Alex is given to test her steed’s obedience to feminine governance, altering the route. Yes, quick strokes of the crop to bare buttocks bring instant compliance. And there is heady joy in the silent communication. There need to be no words, just commanding pulls on the reins, encouraging strokes of the crop.
The sun brings a nice glow to the golden brown flesh. And as Miss Alex works her steed into a good sweat a moisture of her own begins to flow. Lunch may be greatly delayed she smiles to herself.
Within an hour, a well run steed pulls cart and equestrienne to the highest point of the sizable estate. Perspiration oozes from every pore and Miss Alex notes that indeed, on this cloudless autumn morning, nearly noon, the air has warmed. She looks about, no signs of civilization, no buildings, no houses. And being on a place of elevation, no interlopers to look down at the duo.
Privacy! Mentally... emotionally she can return to the tropical island paradise of her youth.
Pulling Robert to a halt in a familiar grassy area. Miss Alex dismounts, stepping to the front of her captive. She peers to see he remains partially erect, despite the brisk lengthy run. A hand lowers, the very tip of a feminine finger grazes about the exposed penis tip, hypersensitive in being well tucked away under the infibulating clasp. Steed Robert shivers, the reins and buckles again shaking, the simple and most evanescent touch bringing a frisson of pleasure.... yet so brief.
Bit mandating silence, he cannot beg for more. And to do so would extend the lengthy interval of chastity.
“Going to run off, Robert?” Miss Alex teasingly inquires as she begins freeing her conveyance from the cart.
Robert shakes his head. The temptation of escape is offered regularly, Miss Alex often testing. But both equestrienne and human equine know of the bond, the emotional attachment over the many years. Robert has no other life... can not have any other life. This Miss Alex knows... and she knows that constant bondage brings complacency... an odd surrender of the will.
Waist belt unbuckled, testicle leash untethered, bit and bridle removed, Robert’s arms remain restrained behind his back. There is one temptation never to be permitted... and that is for him to touch his penis. Any stroking, massaging frottaging there is only under feminine dominion.
“You’ve got me into a lather of my own, Robert. You’ll never understand the thrill of cropping the buttocks of a subjugated male. Though I sense there is enjoyment of your own... judging from your erection.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“So some grapes... for you,” Miss Alex stepping away to lay out a blanket on the grassy clearing.
“May I... well... look, Ma’am.”
“Of course not. You had your last glimpse when I was a girl. Now for you... it’s taste and scent.”
Miss Alex returns, removing the blinding strip of cloth from the pocket of her jodhpurs and reaching up to instantly return her steed to sightlessness.
“Down,” reaching for the testicle leash and guiding the massive form to his knees.
The jodhpurs are quickly removed, the waist band of Velcro designed such that she can bare herself from the waist down in an instant. No panties, nude from the waist down, Miss Alex next doffs her boots, returning herself to the days of gallivanting about her mother’s island paradise, unknowingly rutting the many captive human equines held in strict chastity. She cannot recall when first licked. Was it mother’s suggestion? Perhaps one of the trainers? But licked she was. And such required little encouragement to have the biggest and strongest of steeds offer endless cunnilingus... and more.
“Can you smell me Robert? I get quite frothy in cropping you,” Miss Alex retrieving the picnic basket from the cart.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“And that means you’d like to taste me.”
“Oh yes Ma’am.”
“And some grapes.”
The ritual begins. Miss Alex seats herself on the blanket, spreading her thighs, the fingers of the left hand splaying her labia, the fingers of the right introducing grapes, her vagina to be stuffed, the tongue and lips of the devoted steed... now oral servant... to feast.
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