by Various
Also by JJ Pope
SLAVE GENESIS
SLAVE EXODUS
SLAVE REVELATIONS
THE BEST WAY I can explain it would be as some sort of a personal extension of mass hysteria, if that makes any sense. No? Well, I know what I mean – at least, I think I do.
Everything that happened at that race track was like a kind of madness; I was swept up in it and seemed completely to lose myself. Sara was another person altogether, left in some other world that was no longer anything to do with me. I was just Sassie the pony-girl, that’s all, and whatever personality I now had was utterly subservient, yet really strong in that I knew exactly what it was I wanted.
That weird rubber face mask that Celia put on me at first – that started it all. That wasn’t me, was it? That was some exotic female from … well, I don’t know – name any one of a few dozen eastern countries and you could be right. I just looked at myself and saw someone else, and it was like throwing a switch. Anything I did now, especially as I was quickly cuffed under that cape, was outside my own responsibility.
And Celia knew what she was doing all right, as we already knew from that visit to her own place. As we were being blindfolded to pass through into that underground monorail system, she leaned close to me and whispered in my ear so nobody else could hear. Well, I don’t think anyone else could hear, anyway.
‘This is the only true freedom for a slave, Sassie,’ she said. ‘Now you have abandoned free will, choice, and your own needs, and given them willingly into the hands of your masters and mistresses.’
There was just one moment of doubt after that, during that rail journey itself, when I wondered just what the hell I was doing. I was completely naked under that cape and helpless to protect myself. Before the blindfold hood came off I felt hands under the material, hands fondling my boobs, playing with my nipples. It could have been Celia and probably was her on one occasion, but there were other hands, too.
They seemed to be evaluating me and it felt so impersonal – as if I was just another piece of livestock. Then another hand went down between my thighs, and fingers began to probe me. I heard a man sigh – just a sort of grunt, I suppose – when he discovered I was already aroused and wet and then he just patted me, like you would a dog, only you wouldn’t pat a dog there, for sure.
As I say, I very nearly lost it about then and it was all I could do to stop myself from shouting out that I’d changed my mind and wanted to go back, but I knew the danger that I was likely to place the rest of you in, so I kept my mouth shut and thought I’d wait until I could say something quietly at the other end. I didn’t realise I wouldn’t get the opportunity again.
The stables were awesome. To think that someone could build a complex like that, and underground, too. The atmosphere just took my breath away. I could smell leather and sweat and rubber and all manner of other things I couldn’t quite identify and suddenly I was back to being Sassie again and the scary feelings were going away.
Then, of course, I was handed over to the grooms and my last chance to back out swept away, especially when they fitted that thing across my back teeth and over my tongue. Even before they put the bit on me I was deprived of speech and the way they handled me was all so calculated. At the time it seemed so impersonal and offhanded, but I realise now it was far from that. Everything they did, everything they said, was intended to reinforce my status as a pony-girl and something inside me just responded automatically.
I stood there so obediently as they harnessed and bridled me and fitted those hooves and my tail and then all those various bells, and when they led me out I felt like I was walking on air. That other mask, the horse-snout shaped thing, and the blinkers, meant that I couldn’t see very much at all, except for straight ahead. The collar kept my head up anyway, but even without it I know I would have walked proudly.
No, ‘walk’ isn’t right at all – I pranced and everyone saw me, but I knew I was now just one pretty pony-girl among a whole string and there were some beautiful girls there. I didn’t expect to win anything, to be honest, but there was a fire burning in me now that made me determined to give my all. When I ran, that was something else.
My boobs bounced so much it should have hurt, yet there was no pain now, simply a craving for victory, for admiration and, above all, for final fulfilment. I lost count of the number of times I came. There were proper orgasms and there were little mini ones and then there were multiple ones that just went on and on and I just carried on running throughout them.
The whip flicking my shoulders and back just added to it all and I remember wishing Celia would use it properly on me instead of just as a sort of symbolic action. I wanted her to thrash me, to show me and everyone else that I was her pony-girl; that I was the sort of animal who would do anything for the right mistress or master. Of course she wouldn’t have done anything that would have left me permanently marked.
After the racing had finished, after I had won and when all the excitement was subsiding, then I should probably have felt deflated and the reality should have come back again. And yet it didn’t. The moment that young groom took my reins and started checking to make sure my girth was still tight I knew what was going to happen. Everyone else was going to go off to whatever celebrations were planned back inside and I was simply going to be left to the hired help, the way a horse might be after the hunt is over. Except that real horses don’t get handed over to grooms who intend to fuck them as soon as they get the chance.
His name was Jonas and he seemed to be the youngest of the grooms apart from maybe the one called Sol, but he’d apparently gone off somewhere else. I got the impression, from snatches of conversation I managed to pick up among the other grooms, that Sol was in some sort of trouble. Apparently he’d taken a pony-girl out without proper authority and she’d got away from him, but that’s all I heard and I may have got it wrong.
Jonas had made it clear from the very beginning what he intended to do with me when the chance and time came, even though the older one, Higgy, kept going on about seniority. The crazy thing is, I ought to have been really upset that they were discussing who was going to have me first and yet the only thing on my mind was that I wanted it to be Jonas, if possible. The other crazy thing is that, when it looked like Higgy was going to exercise his privileges first after all, I accepted it quite placidly, like it wasn’t any right of mine to choose.
In the end, Higgy was called away somewhere. There was a tall woman – she had weird eyes, a bit like a reptile I thought – who seemed to be in charge and all the grooms were scared stiff of her, I could tell. She wasn’t there much, but when she was about she had a sort of presence, an aura. It wasn’t evil, I don’t think, more a sort of neutrality. Coldness, that was it. She was really cold, as if she had absolutely no feelings at all, like a machine on legs.
My nipples were still in their clamps, I was still belled and everything else about my rig was exactly as it had been throughout the races. The girth corset no longer seemed tight – though my legs were beginning to ache from standing on tiptoe in those hoof boots for so long – but I knew Jonas wasn’t going to worry about my immediate comforts.
He led me into an empty stall – I think it was the one where I had been bridled earlier, though I’d gone past recall or caring anyway – and just hitched my rein to a hook on the wall, then unclipped one end of my bit and took it out. The tongue plate remained – he didn’t want me speaking, after all.
‘You know what’s going to happen now, don’t you, Sassie?’ he said. He was so nonchalant about the whole thing, standing there, hands on hips, but he was also so good looking and strong that the nonchalant attitude just added to the feelings I was getting of being so completely in his power. Not that I knew it at the time, but without one of those special personal master tags, it meant I was available for anyone who took a fancy to me, visitors or staff alike.
I looked at Jonas and nodded. My mouth felt dry, but I was making up for that between my legs and I
knew he could see that. The rubber body suit was keeping my exposed nipples aroused above and my pussy lips thrust well forward down below. It was crude and yet not crude, a simple emphasising of availability and, I suppose, surrender.
Jonas must have understood, but then he was probably very experienced, even though he didn’t look very old. He took a plastic bottle and held the nozzle up to my lips, squeezing to produce a thin jet of water.
I drank, gratefully, greedily almost, but he was wary of letting me drink too much all in a rush. Instead, he grabbed my bridle and kissed me and I couldn’t believe the length of his tongue. It probed everywhere inside my mouth and into the top of my throat, and I thought I was going to choke.
I kissed him back, though I couldn’t respond with my own tongue, but he held my bridle so that I couldn’t exert any real pressure with my lips, either. It was the most bizarre kiss I had ever experienced and yet probably the most erotic. He was kissing me and yet I wasn’t allowed to kiss him, at least not in the normal way, though the lack of anything normal shouldn’t have surprised me any more.
The kiss lasted a long time, and then he started on my nipples and I saw just how long his tongue actually was. I was really suffering now, grunting and groaning, scraping the ground with my hooves, like a mare in heat, I guess. I wanted him to take me straight away, but he wasn’t going to be hurried. Instead, he kept flicking his tongue from one nipple to the other, making those little bells jangle as he did it and my nipples just carried on getting bigger and harder and throbbing like they were going to burst at any moment.
And then, without a word, he broke off, stood back, unhitched my rein and turned me around to face away from him. Instinctively, I knew what was expected of me and I bent forward, until my back was parallel with the ground, my buttocks thrust back and I knew my sex was just so visible and available. I could hear him doing something with his clothing, but the blinkers meant I couldn’t see backwards and I tensed myself, waiting to be entered, except that at first it was his tongue that pushed inside me, and it found its target first time.
I came immediately and I would have fallen forward if he hadn’t grabbed me by the hips. Now I started to push back, thrusting myself into his face, but he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he just kept going with his tongue and I squealed and whinnied as one orgasm blended with another until it all just became one. I was vaguely aware when he finally stopped, for he cried out something, but before I could react, or even start to come back from the peak, he fucked me.
It sounds crude, saying it that bluntly, but that was exactly what he did, without ceremony and without further ado. One minute he was using his tongue, the next he simply pressed himself against me and slid straight in, filling me with the longest cock I had ever known, and then pumping in and out until he came, a torrent that filled me and at the same time, pushed me completely over the edge.
I must have blacked out then, though only for a few seconds, and I did not fall, presumably because he kept hold of me. When I came to again, I was standing upright once more and he was holding my bridle. I peered down as best as the collar would let me and saw that he was still rigidly erect. The sight of that shaft was as awesome as it had felt.
He was built like a stallion – truly magnificently endowed beyond anything I had ever believed humanly possible. His cock had to be at least a foot long and he was only too well aware the effect the sight of it was having on me.
‘Now you’ve been properly broken, Sassie,’ he grinned. He patted my cheek and then kissed it. I simply stood there, shaking all over, my knees weak. ‘Ready for some more?’ he asked. I think I nodded, though I don’t suppose it would really have made much difference whether I had or not. He turned me around again and I bent forward, powerless to resist even had I not been so rigidly and helplessly bound …
‘Eat the way any pony does,’ he said, understanding the question I was unable to voice. ‘Get your snout in there and suck it up. Don’t worry about the mess – I’ll clean you up again afterwards.’
The stiff rubbery plastic stuff from which my face mask was made did not help me, for where the fabric curled in over my lips, it desensitised them considerably and I made more than just a mess of trying to feed. However, the porridge-like stuff tasted surprisingly good and, even though my stomach was still compressed within the tight girth corset, it felt empty and hollow and I knew I needed to get something sustaining into it.
Jonas laughed uproariously at my pathetic efforts, but he was patience personified, standing there with the tray and occasionally using his fingers to scoop stray dollops of the mixture back between my lips, so that eventually I managed to consume a good three quarters of the meal, with less than a quarter of it smeared around my rubberised face or splashed about my feet.
‘Good girl,’ he murmured, when I swallowed the last mouthful, and even before it had started downwards he was fitting the snout back across my mouth, the bit following in short order. Holding me tightly by my bridle, he reached out and caressed the tips of each of my nipples in turn and immediately those awful, fantastically beautiful bolts of fire began shooting through me again.
‘Whoa, what a randy little filly you are!’ he exclaimed, gleefully. ‘Up for another good tup, by the looks of it.’ He turned me slightly and patted me on the left buttock. ‘Not now though, girl, much as I’d like to. Been on duty all night, I have, and I’ll be needed again just after lunchtime, so I’m off for a few hours’ shut-eye.
‘Don’t you worry, though,’ he said, in what was supposed to be a consoling tone, ‘Higgy’ll be back down here soon. He wanted first go with you anyway and he was a bit pissed off when he was needed for other duties. Still, that’s the crack, as the Irish say.’
He led me to the very back of the stall area and pointed a finger downwards towards the straw, which had been piled thicker here than it was by the doorway.
‘Settle yourself down now,’ he advised. ‘I’ll not hook you to anything, so you can stretch yourself out. Just lay back against the wall and let yourself slide down, mind. Takes a while to get used to not having your arms to help, but it’s better than sleeping standing up, which is what the four-legged pony varieties do, of course.’ He chuckled to himself and turned away for the door, without waiting to see whether I might need any help in carrying out his instructions.
‘See you later, Sassie gal,’ he said, banging the bottom section of the door closed once more. He grinned and tipped a mock salute at me. ‘Good tight fuck you are, I’ll give you that. Hope I’m around when you’re next free, eh?’
And with that he was gone, leaving me standing there, back against the wall, totally bemused and feeling inexplicably frustrated by this latest turn of events. A good tight fuck, he’d said, and yet he was now more interested in sleeping than in repeating the experience. Despite the fact I knew deep down I should feel completely humiliated by this, my overriding thought was how long it would be before Higgy did make an appearance again.
My treacherous damned body, resplendent in its pony-girl finery, was already beginning to yearn yet again and, whilst Sara would have been horrified at the prospect, Sassie was already at the point where one cock was pretty much as satisfactory as another – the satisfaction was now the key concern, not who gave it to me!
Higgy was plainly unimpressed with having had his regular routine disrupted and, I suspected, with having been usurped by one of the younger grooms in the pecking order when it came to me. He also looked as if he hadn’t had much sleep, if any, and he banged around, in and out of the other stalls, shouting out instructions to another couple of younger men who appeared shortly afterwards. Finally, after what must have been about twenty minutes, but which seemed to me like hours, he appeared at the door of my stall, leaning over it and peering in at me.
I lay motionless in my straw initially, feigning sleep, waiting to see if he would disturb me, knowing as he must surely have done that I had been on my feet for several hours, even without the additional exertions assoc
iated with the usual pony-girl activities here. He disturbed me all right.
‘On your feet, you idle fucking filly!’ he roared, kicking against the door with his heavy boots. ‘C’mon, let’s have you up and make sure that little bastard has sorted you out properly!’
Tired as I was – I yawned as I struggled to get myself into a position from which I could rise unaided – I felt the little electric surges starting up anew. Vaguely I did hear that same little voice asking me just what I thought I was acting like, but I quickly thrust it back down where it had come from and, once I had regained a standing position, sashayed over to Higgy with what can only be described as complete arrogance. He seemed surprisingly pleased at this.
‘Ah, I do love to see a properly proud pony,’ he chuckled. ‘Makes it all the more satisfying when I whip her hind quarters for her, you see?’ I could see that, all right, for I was learning fast, but I continued to regard him impassively, chewing ever so slightly against my bit, blinking as seldom as I could possibly manage.
‘Let’s have you out here then,’ he said, swinging the lower door aside. ‘You need a damned good brush, get rid of all those bits of straw and then I reckon a good hosing down will do you no harm. Got a lovely new skin suit over there, jet black with just a white flash and blaze – reckon you’ll make a fine sight in that, especially with a pretty silver harness set against it.’ He reached in and caught hold of my short lead rein, tugging my head firmly, just in case I had forgotten who was in charge, it seemed to me, though there was little chance of that.
‘Fucked you good and proper, did he?’ he whispered, as I came out alongside him. ‘Well, you ain’t seen nothing yet, Sassie my girl, I can promise you that. And this time, old Higgy’s going to make sure he gets his oats before he feeds you any more of yours and turns you out for the hoi polloi to have their fun with you!’