by Various
My master for that morning appeared to be reasonably young, though the mask-hood that covered his head and face made it impossible to be sure. However, the tight white breeches and sleeveless top he wore displayed a well-muscled body and a healthy bulge between his legs. He stood watching, as Higgy harnessed me between the shafts of one of the lightweight gigs and although my blinkers prevented me from getting a good look at him – his eyes in any case were the only part of his features visible – I sensed his approval at what he saw.
‘Sassie’s not one of our regulars, Master Harvey,’ Higgy explained. Harvey – was that his first or last name? Not that it mattered, for unless he decided otherwise, I wasn’t going to be addressing him at all and even then it would be only as ‘master’, I knew.
‘Apparently she’s quite something, however,’ the groom continued. He pulled harshly on the strap between my shoulder harness and the left side shaft – perhaps a trifle too harshly, I thought, wincing as I was tugged sideways. Higgy was annoyed, I knew, as the sudden arrival of Master Harvey put paid to any notion he was entertaining of having his own turn with me immediately.
‘I watched her running last evening,’ Harvey said, nodding. ‘I was surprised her own master and mistress haven’t placed her on the reserved list. If I owned such a fine creature, I doubt I’d be so keen to share her.’ He spoke with a soft Midlands accent, his tone and pitch suggesting maturity without great age, much as his body did.
‘Still,’ he continued, and I saw him wave a hand airily. ‘I’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so why should I start with a gift pony, eh?’ He chuckled at his own joke and I felt a shiver run up and down my spine, as the import of his words struck home. A ‘gift pony’ – yes, that was exactly what I had become, whether by the deliberate design of my own master, or by an oversight on his part, it mattered not.
I had been left here in these stables, dumb, defenceless, available and with no way of expressing my own wishes. Neither did I have any idea how long this state of affairs might continue. What if anything happened to Colin, my real master, the one who knew I was here? What if the true purpose of our mission was discovered? I could become Sassie permanently, I now realised, but although the reality of that brought another shudder, I was not entirely sure whether it was of horror, fear, or simply just … anticipation?
No, surely not? A game was a game, but that …? And yet I truly felt no trepidation, only excitement and, as Master Harvey moved around to get a better view of my front, desire to please and satisfy. Two grey eyes regarded me through narrow slits in the leather.
‘Nice tits,’ I heard him murmur. Beside me, Higgy nodded – I couldn’t see him, but I felt the slight movement transferring through his arms and marvelled at how sensitive I was becoming to these things. ‘I think maybe a tit harness,’ Harvey continued, stroking his masked chin thoughtfully. Higgy released his grip on my tack and walked around to stand beside him, adopting a suitably subservient pose.
‘Yes, good choice, Master Harvey,’ he agreed, after a few seconds in which he was apparently considering the suggestion. ‘A harness makes a pony more aware of her tits, for sure.’
I soon realised the truth of this.
The tit harness was a thin tube – it looked like stainless steel – at each end of which was a small round spring clip, designed to snap to the nipple rings. There were different lengths of bar and Higgy brought a selection, holding each one up to my chest in turn, until Master Harvey selected his choice. It was then only a matter of seconds before it was attached and I was astonished by the effect.
The bar chosen was just long enough that it pushed each of my nipples about four inches wide of its natural position, at the same time distending my breasts slightly in an outward direction. This constant pressure immediately began to take its toll on me and my whole body began to respond in the only way it now seemed to know. Something in my demeanour must have betrayed this fact, especially to Higgy.
‘Ah yes, sir,’ he muttered, nodding eagerly. ‘Yes, that’s made all the difference. Want me to check and see how wet she is?’ He moved forward, apparently not anticipating a negative response to this offer and probed between my legs with his fingers, immediately finding the evidence of my arousal.
‘How about a crotch strap with a vibrating plug? Guaranteed she’ll come and keep coming all the time you’ve got her out. I know some drivers really like that effect and I can fit her with a tail plug, too – very nice effect, the two together.’
Master Harvey nodded, slowly.
‘Ye-es,’ he said, eventually. ‘Yes, do that, Higgy, if you’re sure it won’t tire her to the extent of making her useless?’
‘Not if you handle her right, sir,’ Higgy said. ‘I’ll fit a vibrator with a control – there’s a thin wire and a handheld button for you to switch her on and off. Oh yes,’ he added, as he started to move away, ‘– it don’t hurt none to rest her up at least every twenty minutes or so.
‘That might not seem very long, I know,’ he grinned, ‘but believe me, it’ll seem like a week to her!’
I had almost forgotten about Colin, as I had forgotten largely the original reason for our coming here; to investigate these curious islands. I gave it little enough thought at the time, it’s true, but now I think I understand what happened to me, though I know I should not take any pride in the way I let things just take me over.
The dildo Higgy had inserted inside me felt snug and fat, filling me completely, yet not stretching me. The same was true of the butt plug that held my tail: it had been carefully sculpted so that there was a thinner part just before the flanged base that prevented it going completely inside me and my sphincter muscles settled around this quite happily. However, as soon as I began to trot and Master Harvey activated the vibrator for the first time, the combination of the two intruders all but sent me into a delirium.
I climaxed within only a few steps and I wanted to stop, to squeeze with my muscles and savour the feeling, but this was clearly not part of Harvey’s plan.
‘Trot on!’ he commanded, flicking the whip over my head as I made to halt, and I remember biting hard into the rubber of my bit in order to force myself to obey him. Then, as I gathered speed again, everything became a complete blur as the multiple orgasms blended together in one long and shattering surrender to the inevitable.
When I next regained my senses I realised, to my astonishment, that I was still running – loping slowly now, rather than trotting as I had been before. The vibrator had stopped, but I could feel its presence down there, along with that of the rear plug: the swish of my tail against the backs of my thighs above the tops of my boots added another layer of stimulation.
‘Good girl,’ I heard from behind me, followed by a low chuckle. Clearly my unconscious performance had met with Master’s approval. I tossed my head and this brought another laugh.
‘Atta gal!’ he cried. ‘Show everyone what a proud pony you are!’ At this, I suddenly realised just how many other people there were out there. Other ponies trotted by every few minutes, singly and in pairs, pulling a variety of vehicles and driven by an even greater variety of handlers. Some, ponies and drivers alike, had their identities hidden behind masks and I found myself wondering if any of them were my friends.
The vibrator started up again, but this time only for a matter of seconds, and then it became still again. However, even that short burst had proved sufficient to stir my juices again, and all thoughts of anything or anybody beyond my current position and current master were banished as I lurched towards orgasm once again.
‘Steady, Sassie.’ I felt the slow drag on my reins which signalled me to slow down and I did so with reluctance. Only a few days earlier the mere presence of a dildo inside me – the mere fact that I was helpless in my pony regalia, the feel of the bit pressing back into my mouth and the breeze blowing gently against my naked flesh – all those things combined would have kept me in a state of permanent orgasm, but now I knew I needed more
still. Permanent arousal I had, yes, but now I was an experienced pony-girl and an experienced pony-girl needed driving to her climax.
Trying to smile around my bit, I slowed as required and snorted as a sudden gust of wind blew directly into my face. No hurry, I told myself, peering sideways to where the sun was less than halfway up the eastern sky. The day had really barely begun yet and I had the feeling I was in the hands of a master who knew only too well what a pony-girl needed.
I dropped to a walk as we entered one of the clearer spaces that appeared to be everywhere among the tracks here and wondered how long it would be before the mechanical beast in my vagina would be replaced by a real, throbbing, flesh and blood one. Not too long, I hoped …
SLAVE-MINES OF TORMUNIL
Aran Ashe
About the Author
Aran Ashe has been a stalwart of the Nexus list from its inception, creating a lyrical world of fantasy erotica which contains a myriad of possibilities for bondage, submission and domination, all written with a touching sense of the characters’ internal feelings. After a hiatus of a few years, we published Slave-Mines in 2002, and we’re very pleased to have Aran Ashe back on the list.
Also by Aran Ashe
CHOOSING LOVERS FOR JUSTINE
THE SLAVE OF LIDIR
THE DUNGEONS OF LIDIR
THE FOREST OF BONDAGE
PLEASURE ISLAND
THE HANDMAIDENS
CITADEL OF SERVITUDE
FEW OF THE inhabitants took heed of the stranger riding through the dirt-dry streets: the eve of the market saw many travellers. But there were glances of appreciation for his young concubine, who clung behind him, riding bare-back and astride.
When they reached the little square the horse went straight to the wooden trough beside the well and the stranger dismounted. The horse drank. The girl stayed on his back and stared about. Her pale and delicate flesh drew more onlookers into the bright sunshine – even some of the masters taking bare-breasted girls to the stables paused to stare. There were no obvious marks of sexual punishment on this new girl’s skin. Her master appeared young, perhaps inexperienced in knowing how to deal with a slave. Thoughts of barter seeded the minds of these watchers. Her breasts were small. All she wore was a shirt. A little ruby-studded touchable gold chain glinted between her bare girlish thighs. Some of the watchers stood on tiptoes to achieve a sweeter view.
The shirt, a man’s shirt, skimpily buttoned, parted just above her deep umbilicus, a black, smooth well in the whiteness of a naked, hairless belly whose lips were full, as if from coaxing. Perhaps her young master was not after all so lax in attending to her flesh. Her naked sex lips pouted provocatively and were linked by the little chain.
By now an interested group had gathered by the well. The stranger singled out the grizzled wise-man, stood before him and said:
‘Sir, my name is Josef Stenner. I pass in peace across your lands.’
The old man signalled to one of the others, who drew water from the well. ‘Drink, friend.’
The stranger took the overflowing ladle but gave it first to the girl. Then he drank. He wiped the dripping liquid from his lips. Someone in the crowd gasped and pointed.
‘He wears the Talisur!’
The old man showed no emotion until he took the stranger’s hand and with trembling fingers touched the mystic ring. Then he sighed deeply and shook his head. ‘Our village is well-graced, my lord.’ He bowed slowly.
‘I crave no special favour, and beg that you treat me only as an honest traveller. But you can help me.’
‘Only say the means.’
‘I seek a man – a Tormunite lord named Malory.’ The onlookers stared blankly. ‘His party must have passed this way two or three days ago. He had soldiers with him, and a girl.’ Still there was no reaction: such sights were commonplace. ‘Someone must have seen them passing through?’
Amid the vacant glances the old man shook his head. ‘I know of no Malory, my lord. No soldiers have been here – save the drivers.’ He stared up.
‘Then there is a market here?’
‘In the next town, it is but a few minutes’ ride.’ He nodded down the road then stared up at the semi-naked girl on the horse. ‘Think not ill of me for saying this, but she is comely. And there is a spark of generous hunger in her gaze. At the market – Talisur or no – there will be those who scheme to spirit her from your arms by any means. Therefore keep her on a near-tether and sojourn in that town no longer than you must.’
* * *
Josef watched Leah murmuring and moving in her slumber. He had stripped the warm shirt from her back, up over her head, and had bound it securely round her wrists to leave her body naked and her hands imprisoned so she could not touch herself. He had fastened a soft leather thong around her narrow waist and pressed his middle finger gently, deeply into her umbilicus. Her little nipples had come erect in expectation. Then he had threaded a length of rough sisal rope from behind, up between her legs, under her sexual chain, intimately between her virgin sex lips and close against the mouth of her bottom. Slowly drawing the rope upwards, deep between the small, round, buttock cheeks and tight between the pink lips, he had finally secured it back and front to the waist-thong. These last few nights he had done this to her before putting her to bed. Tonight her anticipation had been stronger. When he had turned her face-down and pressed his palm into the small of her back, steadily pushing her belly firmly into the bed while drawing her rope tight, he had felt a shudder ripple through her body from front to back and travel up his arm. Leah had twisted round, her small face thrust between her fastened arms, and hungrily she had kissed him, sucked his lip and tried to reach down to kiss his naked penis.
Her body was beautiful and sexual. The evening light now caressed it as it moved against the sheet. What was she dreaming about?
Josef thought of what had happened that afternoon after she had bathed in the warm, slow river – how she had stepped lightly, nakedly, over the dry, flat stones, her fine, gold sexual-chain glistening and tinkling between her smooth, denuded thighs. Clothed only in this chain she had stood before him and stared expectantly up into his eyes, the eyes of her new master, a master she had chosen. It seemed to make no difference to her that he sought another, and that this was the purpose of his mission. As far as Leah was concerned, she was his charge, and he was obligated to observe the Tormunite rule – to punish her, to cherish her, and to train her to his preferences. Josef had not yet grown fully accustomed to sexual ownership but with Leah he was learning quickly.
Day by day on their travels she had grown hungrier for pleasure, wanting him to draw it forth from her by elaborate and demanding means. She would recount to him the sexual things that had been done to her in the Abbey. And he would see the fervour in her lovely blue eyes as he held her naked white body close, cupping her sweet, chained, pink sex in his fingers till it yielded honey. These last few days she had repeatedly driven him to intense pleasure. But still she wanted to be shared with other men. ‘It will teach me how better to please my lord,’ Leah had said.
Such sharing was the norm amongst the Tormunites, but Josef had found it too difficult to permit. Here in the roadhouse public sharing was commonplace. When they arrived there had been two men on the stairs with a girl wearing only a thin wet top. While Josef carried Leah past the two men, Leah was staring at their wet erections. When they reached the room she had wanted to know why the girl’s breasts and the men’s sexes were so wet, and whether it was with the girl’s honey, or the men’s fluid. ‘She made them give good measure,’ she had murmured wistfully. Then, with her brow furrowed deeply, she had caressed Josef’s penis and closed her eyes, and he knew she was imagining and desiring those other men. But he would never want to let her come to harm.
She had slept fitfully, wanting Josef to hold her, making him cup her roped sex in his fingers from behind. Eventually she had fallen into a deeper sleep. She had made a little moisture which remained on his fingers until it drie
d in the warm air. He could hear noises in the street and eventually he went to the balcony.
His room was high on a corner and overlooked much of the town. In the distance he could see the marketplace. Closer by were several small inns and a larger building which was the house of pleasure. A platform had been constructed in the yard behind it and wooden spars and supporting frames were being added to it. People were beginning to congregate. There seemed to be a clear division in this town between the quiet natives and the brash Tormunite masters who used it as their base for trade. Diagonally opposite the roadhouse a girl with bared breasts was being held with her back to the wall. Her breasts stood very full and proud. Her masters had begun to loop a leather cord around them to bind them.
Josef turned and looked again at Leah, whose breasts were very small, and yet, he thought, she was beautiful indeed. Her dried sexual honey was smooth upon his fingers. She had turned on to her back, her fastened arms still stretched out above her head, her thighs slightly open, arousing delicious pangs of wanting in him as he looked at the thin love-chain stretched across the rope lodged between her spread sex lips. The chain, symbolically sealing her lips, was the sign of her virginity.
Her eyes, softly blue, half opened. She tried to reach for him. He unwound the shirt from her wrists. ‘What is my lord thinking?’ Leah whispered, stretching up, reaching her fingers around the back of his neck.
‘That, were I the air, how I would cling to your soft, sweet skin.’ He clasped her gently round her slender ribcage, lifted her completely from the bed and kissed under her arms, tasting sun-salt there despite her ablutions. Her little nipples brushed against him as he lowered her feet to the floor. Her head was level with his chest and her mischievous fingers were against his leg, seeking, wanting to know he was erect for her. She smiled in satisfaction, then gasped as his fingers intruded under her chain, around the rope, under it a little way, opening her very slightly, finger-tasting the salt-sexy glaze there, warmer than mulled wine. He eased her gently back to the bed. There he unfastened the rope, carefully lifted it away from the adhering hot flesh, and removed the rope completely. Then he opened her sex to the waning sunlight, stretching its beautiful bare lips, making of it a split pink chained fig with a polished bulb of erection at the tip. As Leah lay across the bed, head back and down, her perfect belly trembling open, Josef slowly masturbated this open fig. Each time a soft murmur started in her throat he pinched her nipples, which had become fuller over the last week though her breasts were still small. When she felt the Talisur ring touching just inside her body, gently probing her virginity, she began to shudder and tried to press the ring against her clitoris, seeking swift satiation with it. But Josef took charge of her aroused flesh. She was moaning as he replaced the rope with a thin strip of cloth between her legs, arranging it so it pouched her tightly, sealing the longing into her puffed-up sex. He secured the cloth pouch to the thin leather thong around her waist. Then he lifted her limp body from the bed, clothed her with her wrinkled shirt and took her downstairs.