Mating the Mare – Masturbation Monday


Masturbation Monday is here again – so here’s a little excerpt from a very naughty scene. Lydia, trainee sex slave, is at a pony farm and is learning the ropes of being a pony-girl…

“Ponies and riders don’t mate,” he tells me in his deep, purring voice. I want to whisper a reply that I really wanted him to fuck me, to beg for it like a good sex-slave, but his finger on my lips reminds me I am to keep silent and I just nod meekly. With a confident smile he fastens on my nipple reins and leads me out of the shower. I follow, hooves clopping on the flagstones. We enter another stall-sized room with a high wooden bench that has a number of buckles and straps, and a set of stocks facing toward a movable seat.

I have seen and been in similar things many times in the last few months, and feel my face flush as I start to realize what it’s for. Trepidation wars with growing lust. I am already horny, but I’m horny for Master Daimon. I want to protest, but I am trained to obedience and to the command not to speak under any circumstances. I want to protest and plead, but as he grips the hair at the back of my head in one strong fist and bends me over the bench, my resistance melts away at his touch. He unclips my reins from my nipple-rings and binds me over the bench while my slit betrays me by moistening up as I feel the straps tighten and grip to pin my hips face-down to the bench and my ankles wide apart.

The bar of the stocks lowers, locking my neck and ankles into it. Between the stocks and the bench is a short gap that allows my breasts to hang freely, I can feel them, move as I try and shift my hips slightly and fail. My tail is the only covering my sex has as it faces the open door and anyone walking past, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Throughout the large stable building boots and hooves thump and clop as other ponies and riders walk about.

Anyone could just walk in and fuck me, and shame flushes my cheeks as that thought makes me wetter.

I am a slut, I acknowledge silently. No, I am a filly, a mare, and mares do not choose which stud is to mount them.

Master seats himself in front of me, his crotch level with my face for the inevitable. Wordlessly he frees his big, hard dick and slides the seat forward, and I open wide like a good slut as he urges my mouth over his cockhead. Pouting I sullenly extend my tongue to lick his glans, then his hands reach around the stocks to start playing with my breasts, and my nipples go hard as rocks.

“Ponies may please their owners,” he chides me gently as I start to fellate him, giving his dick the best attention my mouth can supply. I understand fully, I am allowed to please him, but he is not going to please me. Before I heard of BDSM I would have told any man that made such a suggestion to go pay personal visit, on his own behalf, to a taxidermist. A man had to prove he could use his tongue on me before I’d use my mouth on him.

No longer; thanks to the last few month’s training and conditioning all a lover has to do is put me in bondage and suddenly I’ll supply whatever they want. I do it because I know that down the line I will get the most intense pleasure of my life. How or when is another matter, but I serve my lover secure in the knowledge that when it suits them, they will make me scream and shake and sometimes even black out with ecstasy.

Right here, and right now, I am a good pony who wants to please their rider, my Master, and I wrap my eager lips around the head and start to suck. He pets my mane, strokes my breasts, and my pussy gets warmer and wetter and tingly as my head bobs obediently up and down as much as the stocks will allow me.

“Good pony … good girl Scamper … Mmmmm you are a dirty mare aren’t you? I bet like all fillies you’d like a good stallion to mount you … you can’t help it, can you? … I bet you are in heat now …” his words make me squirm and flush as they lay bare my lust, because he is right on all fronts. I am so lost in the delightful fantasy he paints, so hot at the thought of the fucking he describes that I do not notice the approaching feet and hooves until they are right behind me, and a woman’s voice is heard right behind me:

“Here you are, Stamper, isn’t that a nice sight? A good little filly all juicy and ready for you.” I start as a hand strokes my tail aside, and I can feel cool air on my exposed, glistening slit. Hands with long nails push my cheeks wider apart to fully display me. I squeak as my mouth is full of cock, and Master’s hand will not let me stop sucking him, and contritely I resume.

“I arranged a nice stallion for you, Scamper, just like you want,” he breathes softly to me, still petting my hair, my face and my tits. I cannot protest … but I can squirm and wiggle my behind invitingly a little, and I do. I can feel the closeness of body heat through my butt and the backs of my legs as the stud is moved close. There is the jingle of keys, the click of a lock, and deep groan of what sounds like relief.

“My, Stamper, aren’t you eager,” the woman’s voice purrs, teasing the stud.

Something warm and fleshy brushes my slick gash, seeking my hole. It finds it, presses gently, and then a deep, masculine grunt accompanies something big, firm and warm that slides into my cunt all the way to the hilt in one smooth thrust. Full and heavy balls slap against my jingling clit and hips and thighs press against my ass.

“Nnnnnnggggmmmmm!” I moan around Master’s cock as the stud drives the breath out of me. A warm, full, tingling sensation floods my body, emanating out from my full pussy that gratefully squeezes its new visitor. I have no idea who is fucking me, only that Master Daimon has selected and approved of them so that I can be pleased as I please him.

I start bobbing my head up and down with abandon. Nice master has arranged for me to be mated on my first evening…I feel so treasured and cared for, so special and important, I want this to be his best blowjob ever and I give it my all.

“Go for it Stamper! Ride that filly good and hard!” the woman’s voice urges excitedly, and I hear the slap of a crop on skin – not mine, fortunately, but I suspect on Stamper, as his big dick slides out of me and then back in hard with another grunt. There are no hands on me – he is a pony, ponies do not have hands, right? – but I feel the closeness of his strong legs against my thighs as he starts to pump me hard and fast, snorting and grunting like a genuine horse in primal animal lust.

Each thrust slaps against my ass and makes it quiver while filling me with meat and pleasure. Each movement of that nice dick in me, each slap of those fat nuts against my clit, sends a lovely wave of joy into my body that builds and builds. I respond to it by sucking Master ever more enthusiastically, and suddenly he is pumping his load into my mouth; thick cum I gulp down greedily – I am trained to always swallow, no matter what.

Stamper is grunting loudly as he bangs me deep, I can feel the edge approaching, and I guess he must be close.

“Cum for me, Lydia,” Master Daimon whispers to me.

Slave Girl #9

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