'Trainee to Pony Girl', Segment XII

 "How do you feel, Cheeks? You’re trembling. Water not warm enough?”

“Oh Sir, please no more. I’m quite full. It’s... it’s... too much.”

“Just a little more. I know deep within you want to take it for me. How does your anus feel? It’s quite stretched... the nozzle has to be tight and therefore well inflated.”

Dare Sweet Cheeks admit... the sensation... it brings both suffering and joy. 

A hand goes to the bloated lower belly, gently rubbing about... highlighting the distension.

“Sir... please I need...”

“I’ll decide what you need, Cheeks. A little more flow... then I’ll walk you.”

“No. Please. I don’t think I can do that... you know... stuffed and filled like this.”

“But you ran plugged for Lady Dyson. It was only a number two. But I think you enjoyed it... and want to take more. Enemas will help... both physically opening you... and satiating your need.”

Enema bag empty, Groom Edgar’s free hand reaches to the tube and closes the valve. He then  smooths over buttocks sculpted to perfection, the months of pony girl training evident. The trembling continues. Groom Edgar knows it is not distress. Instead the girl is in a masochistic trance... her words of concern in conflict with the nirvana experienced in being so subjugated. Yes, the threat of being walked and displayed... anally penetrated with protruding belly... triggers her exhibitionist paraphilia.

“You’ll not expel here in the stall, Cheeks. Not in the basin. It’s too small.”

“Please Sir, I can’t be walked like this.”  

“But you will,” disconnecting the tube, leaving the enema nozzle in place. “I’ll get your leash. You can show yourself to Gum Drop and Candy Bar. Tell them how good it feels... being anally filled... sphincter stretched... feeling another’s dominion deep within... the intensity of the humiliation. Then I’ll lead you to the washroom, string you up, and you can decide whether to end your colonic... expelling to the drain... or just continue to bask in the glow of being so degraded.”

Groom Edgar steps away, returning with the length of leather.

“You can do this, Cheeks. You want to do it. And if you ask, I’ll take you to the farmhouse before you’re emptied. You can explain to Lady Dyson how good this feels to you. She may have guests. Wouldn’t that feed a need? Putting your anal fixation on display.”

As Sweet Cheeks whimpers, not able to find a reply, the ankle cuffs are released, feet slowly lowering to the stall floor. The thigh straps are unhooked. Groom Edgar notes the trembling is magnified.

“Cunt wet?” dispensing with medical jargon, aware of the delicious combination of dread and joy.

Words not forthcoming, Sweet Cheeks nods. She ruminates... he knows her... body, mind and soul. Once again maestro Edgar is performing in concert, her nakedness a mere instrument for recital.

“Remember... on toes, Cheeks. Always on toes,” slipping away the thigh straps and releasing the ear grommets.     

Leash clipped in place, Groom Edgar leads, Sweet Cheeks follows, the enema nozzle, inflated to the maximum. As would a tail, it flips side to side with every step, lower belly sloshing. Adding to the sensual input, the elongated labia brush her inner thighs... the endless chastity turning her quim to a time bomb nearing explosion. 

“Gum Drop... then Candy Bar... and you can tell me if you’d like to show yourself off to Lady Dyson.” 

*****

“Being walked like this... it’s... it’s... so... strange!”

“Strange good... or strange bad?”

“I’m so full... and I can’t...”

“Of course you can’t, Cheeks. To purge is not your decision. I’ll decide when you are to empty your bowels for me. I think Gum Drop and Candy Bar were greatly amused... a well shaped and conditioned pony girl with a nice plump belly.”

The exchange of words comes as Groom Edgar leads, Sweet Cheeks follows, from the stall of Candy Bar where she has been put up for the night in suspension.

“But you do have one decision I will grant you,” heading to the washroom where Lady Dyson’s steeds are known to trib and entertain. “And I think, nozzle well inflated, that you’ll hold the enema for me... just long enough for a visit to farmhouse... and Lady Dyson.” 

“No... please, Sir. Not like this.”

“But you so exhibited yourself at the orphanage. Kneeling before the other girls while you received a punishment enema... and quite frequently... according to the reports.”

Groom Edgar stops the parade of two, turning to face his charge. A free hand lowers, palm pressed to the hairless mons, one finger slipping between the extended labia.

“You’re so wet, Cheeks. And quite fragrant. Yet you decline more thrill. The farmhouse is nearby. And as I said, Lady Dyson may have a visitor. You can show off... revel in your fixation... your fixations, I should say. So exposed... so humiliated... objectified... filled as a vessel... stretched opened and plugged at a man’s behest. And there’s nothing you can do about it... helpless... vulnerable. Yet most importantly... you don’t want to do anything about it.”.   

The trembling resumes. Sweet Cheeks bows her head. Groom Edgar wriggles his finger within her vagina, knowing the pony girl is in thought.

“She would be pleased... Lady Dyson?”

“She will find amusement. You will find satiation... quirky... but satiation.”

In silence, Sweet Cheeks nods. Groom Edgar withdraws his hand and finger and turns to lead. 

“What do think the psychiatrist would have to say about this, Cheeks? A life long quest... for... for something. Perhaps you have found it here... at Dyson Farms.” 

Groom Edgar decides to end the ordeal, physical duress maximized, Sweet Cheeks’ mind barraged with thoughts of her depthless needs... for exhibition... for humiliation... for submission... for the need to please. Subterfuge ending, he leads in silence to the shower area. Lady Dyson would no doubt to be appreciative of the display but unlikely to tolerate the sloppy release of a massive enema... not in her farm house. 

“Squat... over the drain. But there will be a time when you’ll want to so humbly perform for Lady Dyson. Better perhaps to squat once again for the enema matron from the orphanage. Maybe she can visit us sometime.”

The words bring no response. Groom Edgar smiles to himself... such pleasant memories for Sweet Cheeks.