Sweet Cheeks swabs about the fragrant chamois, listening to Gum Drop purr as would a cat. Well worked, Sweet Cheeks must assume the girl has been run for miles, the naked form hanging most lethargically. She marvels at the conditioning, no evidence of distress despite relative immobility, swinging in tethers as soapy hands work. She feels the smooth, hairless warmth, a blemishless covering of fine skin enshrouding firm, well toned muscling. Does it thrill that in time, with unending exercise and training, her own young form will be so developed?
And the buttocks... large, rounded to notable prominence... and well cropped, the red welts of Lady Dyson’s crop not yet fading. The marks are even, the skin not broken. Such excoriation seems to be for encouragement... not punishment... bringing forth effort... stimulation... to be run to a girl’s breaking point... and beyond. To counter the near ecstasy of the vaginal insertions... the tantalization of the ringed nipples.
Hands smoothing about, Sweet Cheeks cannot help asking herself... about the Ben wa balls. She will no doubt be so impaled... should she be deemed worthy of bit, bridle and harness.
What does it feel like... the constant stimulation? Dare she ask... Groom Edgar? Volunteer for impalement.
Masturbation mittens locked in place... could vaginal insertions lead to her only climactic relief?
Yet, Gum Drop is not brought to orgasm... such wickedness
“Do they really... you know... tie you together... with another girl... to be bathed.... and you know... like rub each other?” Sweet Cheeks whispers into an ear stressed by a hooked grommet.
“Yes, we’re allowed to trib from time to time... when Lady Dyson wants to be amused. It’s... it’s... well... a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.”
“So that’s it... to...”
“Most times we don’t get off... if that’s what you’re asking. She uses the cane... if she thinks a girl is... you know... close... about to climax without permission.”
“It seems... so... cruel.”
“She wants us frisky... that’s the word she uses. You’ll see. You’ll be running for her... trying your best... in pleasing her... in trying to please yourself. And if you’re good... very good... she’ll have Mr. Edgar... well... finish you. He’s... superb. He’ll get to know your cunny better than you do. And he’ll certainly be there more than you... deeper and more often,” Gum Drop snickering. “So be a good girl... be nice to him.”
Sweet Cheeks moves to the front, hands going to the breasts, swabbing there ever so gently, taking the extended nipples into right hand and left. She has never considered herself homosexual, telling herself it is for Gum Drop’s good, the cropped strips sore, the removal of the rings quick yet painful. She rolls about her fingers, ever so carefully pulling in a milking motion, ostensibly to clean. With the touch, Gum Drop sighs, Sweet Cheeks glad her tender massage is welcomed.
‘Just us girls’, Sweet Cheeks rationalizes... simply helping the poor girl. Yet the twinges renew, Sweet Cheeks looking over to where Groom Edgar stands nearby, preparing for the next procedure. Will he notice... a soapy hand disobediently giving herself a quick frottage?
“Someday... after you’ve been run... and need to be bathed... maybe we’ll be strung... together. We become close here. It’s... well... out of necessity. When fully trained you’ll not have mittens... just be kept in constant bondage. It’s Lady Dyson’s thing. As I said... kept frisky.”
“So other then Edgar....”
Gum Drop laughs, cutting off her words.
“There’s no cock here... if that’s what you’re about to ask. Not in the stables. The fields yes. But you'd not want that. There’s exhausting exercise to counter the hormones, the insertions, the sting of the crop and Mr. Edgar’s hands and fingers. So when we’re bathed together... do learn to enjoy. No inhibitions girl... put all that silliness aside. Particularly if Lady Dyson takes a liking... to your tongue work. For oral she has a neutered boy she keeps naked in her chambers... but at times she likes variety.”
Distracted in thought, Sweet Cheeks doesn’t realize her fingers have progressed from cleaning the lengthy nipples to palpating sensuously. She is alerted to the unintentional erotic effect when Gum Drop purrs anew and begins stirring, hips wriggling in frustration, her body swinging in the many restraining cables.
“Step closer,” softly blurted.
Sweet Cheeks so moves. Gum Drop thrusts forth her tongue, alacritously finding a cone covered right nipple and drawing between her lips to bring a pang of Sapphic delight. Her attention is swift and quickly ends.
“Well, I see you girls are getting along. Naughty girl, Gum Drop,” Edgar admonishes. “Step away Sweet Cheeks. Empty the bucket. And for you, Gum Drop, perhaps a cold water rinse?”
“Please no, sir... I... I...”
“Yes you wanted to acclimate Sweet Cheeks to pony girl life at Dyson Farms, tsk, tsk tsk.”.
Edgar places aside a tray of implements and turns on the spray hose. Gum Drop is grateful, the flow is warm... soothingly warm.
“And you were talking,” directing the flow to rinse away the soapiness. “About?”
“Sweet Cheeks was asking... about bathing... you know... when Lady Dyson wants to be entertained.”
“Yes. If a girl wants to get herself off here, tribbing can happen... at times. And you girls like showing off... to Lady Dyson... and her guests.”
Guests! The notion brings alarm. Sweet Cheeks to display her nakedness to the unknown!
Groom Edgar, snaps his fingers, gaining Sweet Cheeks’ attention and pointing to a towel.
“Keep your hands busy and away from your cunny.”
Sweet Cheeks returns, noting that Gum Drop helplessly swings about in suspension as she dries, Edgar stepping between well parted thighs.
“If you’ve not before seen a girl infused, watch closely. It’s most subjugating... good for a pony girl’s psyche. Bringing conflict... emotional unease... but physical joy.”
Sweet Cheeks completes her task, obediently moving to stand behind at Edgar’s left side. She will watch, vicariously sensing shame, the girl spread so wide open.
“Hands to your head and keep them there, Sweet Cheeks. Until I get you back into the masturbation mittens.”
Sweet Cheeks complies, watching intently as hands reach forth, pinching the lengthy draping inner labia, rhythmically tugging in a milking motion... left, right, left, right.
“First we stimulate.. bringing more circulation,” Gum Drop moaning with the touch, “and loosening things up. Notice the coloring... pink turning to red,” Edgar pedantic anew.
The milking motion stops, the fingers gently slapping then tweaking, the dangling four inch lengths becoming toys. Then Edgar reaches to the tray.
“Then we tie off, trapping the increased circulation within the lips.”
Slim cords, appearing to be for dental hygiene, are knotted about left labium then right at the base, fingers working well into the vaginal opening. Then the fingers resume fondling, flipping the lengths back and forth.
In watching Sweet Cheeks presses together her thighs, the concupiscence of many weeks of chastity, sensing the delight of such manipulation, bring again twinges.
“And she’s ready... labial infusion. Well trussed... exposure complete... vulnerable to whatever is to be done to her, can you sense a pony girl’s surrender... feel her concern... feel her helplessness... but also feel the sublime sense of capitulation?”
A hand reaches to the tray, grasping a hypodermic needle with a frighteningly large barrel... filled with clear fluid.
“Saline, to infuse and give a girl some nice plum beauty lips. Give a girl a welcomed sense of exposure... a tantalizing physical sensation.”
The needle pricks the red left labium. Gum Drop lurches in her bonds.
“Please... not too much, sir.”
“Oh Gum Drop, you’d not want moderation... not when you can idly sway in suspension... and feel the warmth... frottage yourself to sleep... show me... show the world... a nice fat set of lips.”
Sweet Cheeks gawks, the plunger pressed... the saline flowing... the red strip swelling... slowly... slowly... plumping... plumping... redder... larger... larger... a girl’s precious anatomy becoming a man’s plaything... a bright red balloon.
“The saline will be harmlessly absorbed. But bring such subtle ecstasy. Gum Drop will wriggle about... trying desperately to bring herself to orgasm... but will fail... finally dozing off in the frustration of unattainable joy... ready to be run tomorrow.”
The needle withdraws, the once long thin labium now a saline filled sphere of some two inches in diameter. In thought, Sweet Cheeks is tempted to be disobedient, a wet vagina needing attention.
How is it Gum Drop can take this, lurching again as the right labium is stabbed, the process repeating.... slowly... slowly... the barrel emptying, the labium engorging.
“Eighty cubic centimeters. Good girl, Gum Drop. Such nicely stretched labia. You’ll be so proud.”
The empty syringe is returned to the tray. Edgar brings more humiliation, hands returning to again toy, flipping about the balloons, then palming, turning his head back to Sweet Cheeks to pridefully display his handiwork. Gum Drop moans, squirming with diabolical pleasure.
“Your turn will come, Cheeks. Some stretching first... another set of rubber cones for your little cunny when it better matures. In time you can have a nice prominent pudendum... just like this. Want to play with her? Just don’t stimulate her clitoris. That’s forbidden”
Hands remaining on head, Sweet Cheeks gawks. Does she want to toy with a girl’s most intimate bits? She can sense Gum Drop’s tantalizing joy. Indeed as Groom Edgar releases, fingers going to remove the strings entrapping the saline, Gum Drop begins wriggling about her hips, the swollen labia gently swinging side to side, brushing inner thighs right and left. The pony girl moans then paroxysmally attempts to thrust hips, stressing the canvas bonds... her frustration palpable.
“She’ll work and work through the night... trying for climax... inachievable climax... finally to sleep in exhaustion. With any clitoral stimulation... denied of course... she’d come. A simple feather would do. Over time, the saline will dissipate, but her lips will be a little longer... and fleshier. And tomorrow, when Lady Dyson runs her she’ll strive... to please... to take the sting of the crop... buttocks... nipples... buttock... nipples. And such will feel good to her... hoping for the word from her ladyship... that her performance and output are satisfactory. Yes, to be masturbated... fully... to orgasm. Like you she squirts, Sweet Cheeks. All Dyson Farms pony girls ejaculate for her ladyship.”
Groom Edgar steps away, letting a mesmerized Sweet Cheeks watch and watch, the reddened flesh waggling about. He smiles inwardly in knowing the girl becomes more and more eager every day... to be harnessed.. to be run... to likewise feel the sting of leather... and yes... to be restrained in suspension... and finally be brought to climax. For a girl of Sweet Cheeks’ ilk, the humiliation... the subjugation... it’s addictive.
“Some anal attention, Gum Drop? A nice stout butt plug?”
No comments:
Post a Comment