The One Pound Ponygirl

by Charles Graham

  She wouldn’t even be able to scream or defend herself and in her mind’s eye she saw herself being dragged off by a gang of shadowy, faceless men intent on taking her and using her, pillaging her helplessly bound body for their pleasure and amusement.

  The dreadful vision was more than enough for Gabrielle and she whirled around and stumbled back across the meadow towards the distant lights that marked Matthew’s farmhouse, her breath coming in rasping pants as struggled to reach what now seemed to her to be the infinitely more preferable and safer prospect of voluntary submission to his Mastery.

  Twice, she tripped and fell, the breath whooshing from her lungs as she crashed to the ground without being able to break her fall, but each time she struggled back to her feet and staggered on, fearing to look back in case her nightmare watchers were pursuing her. Stained with mud and grass and with her eyes wild with nameless fears, she reached the front door of the house and kicked desperately at the solid timber, frantic to be let in.

  The door opened and she hurled herself into her Master’s strong arms, pressing her naked breasts against his chest as great hot tears rolled down her gagged cheeks and she sobbed in relief at her escape from her imagined terrors.

  Her Master drew her inside and held her at arm’s length, a cruel smile on his lips as he inspected her disheveled body. “So, pony-girl,” he said coldly, “you have decided to return to me of your own free will, have you? Very well then, so be it. By your own choice you have come to my door as a full and willing pony-slave, wearing the bonds and collar of your servitude,” he paused and watched Gabrielle’s eyes fill with alarm and dismay, then continued slowly and with great force, “you are now and always will be my slave, Gabrielle, and your freedom is over. For ever.”

  Gabrielle shuddered to the realization that her fear of the unknown had quite literally delivered her straight into her Master’s hands, but she also knew that she could not face the terrifying woods again. She had made her decision, out there in the darkness and she could only hope it had been the right one because she was clearly not going to be permitted to change her mind.

  He let go of her and pointed to the polished wood-tiled floor, “On your knees. Thighs spread and spine straight.”

  She gazed imploringly at him, begging him to take pity on her, but his face remained cold until she sank slowly to her knees and placed her body exactly as he had commanded.

  He nodded firmly, “Remember this position. It is how I require you to display yourself for me as you become the obedient and submissive slave I will make you. Now, remain still and silent or I shall whip you.”

  There was no doubt in Gabrielle’s mind that he meant what he said and she held herself motionless as he strolled across the room to a leather armchair near the crackling log fire and sat down facing her, then picked up a half-finished drink that sat on a low, sturdy coffee-table alongside.

  He took a sip and rolled it around his mouth to savor the full taste, but never took his eyes off her beautifully presented body and as Gabrielle felt her cheeks redden, she realized that he was teaching her to obey. It was a strangely exciting feeling and Gabrielle felt her belly swirl with embarrassingly delicious heat as his gaze devoured every inch of her form, lingering at her full breasts and then sweeping down to where she knew her labia and clitoris must be lewdly displayed by her pose.

  She wondered whether she ought to try to hide her most intimate recesses from him, but he had ordered her to keep still and the memory of her previous disobedience and the punishment which had followed were still fresh in her mind. Besides, she admitted to herself with secret pleasure, it was rather thrilling to flaunt her body so shamelessly in front of a man. She wouldn’t have dreamed of doing so a few hours ago, before Matthew had put her in bondage, but now he was her Master and she had no choice about what she would or would not do.

  In an odd, backhanded sort of way, she felt more liberated rather than less and she thought it must be because there was no guilt if there was no choice. She had to do what he told her and if he decided to make her show off her body, then show it she must.

  With her guilty conscience temporarily stifled, she began to take an interest in her surroundings and as her gaze roamed over the thick stone walls and massive wooden pillars that supported the beamed roof, she could not help but notice dozens of black iron rings set into almost every surface. She didn’t doubt that some were original and had been used in the past to hold farming tools and household implements…but not that many. The others had probably been installed by her Master and it wasn’t too difficult to work out what they were for. Or who they were for and Gabrielle’s belly glowed with a fierce heat to the certainty that they would soon be put to use in ways that she could only guess at.

  He clicked his fingers. “To my feet, slave,” and as she flushed and began to rise to her feet, snapped, “no. On your knees.”

  She bit down hard on the rubber-coated steel between her jaws, wishing that she dared to disobey and that she wasn’t gagged so that she could tell him exactly what she thought of his arrogance. She had no desire to be whipped and had to be content with a glare of frustrated impotence as she shuffled awkwardly across the tiled floor to his chair.

  “Stop,” he ordered, “display position.” She straightened her spine and spread her thighs wide, her eyes glittering with anger as he forced her to present her body to him. He reached down and flipped up a hinged tile. Gabrielle gulped nervously as she saw that underneath the tile lay another of the black iron rings with a short black chain and clip welded to it.

  Before she could react, he gripped her head in his right hand and bent her forward so that his left hand could snap the clip to the ring on the front of her posture collar. Bent double and with her neck chained to the ring, she screamed in fright as she found herself locked to the floor and unable to lift her head, but even more frightening was his cruel chuckle as he watched her futile efforts to free herself.

  “You should be more careful,” he told her, “I do not care for my slave to look at me the way you just did. I can see that you need a lesson in humility and the proper respect that a slave must always show her Master.”

  Gabrielle fought to explain that she had not known, had not meant to show disrespect, would be as humble as he wanted her to be…but it was too late and her bit-gag distorted her pleas into incoherence as he jumped up and hurried behind her. To her absolute horror, she felt chains being clipped to her knee cuffs to hold her widely straddled and although she tried desperately to close her thighs, the chains held her with ease.

  From above her came the hiss of his crop whistling through the air and as she recognized the sound, she screamed and her thigh muscles corded in redoubled efforts to escape the punishment she knew was coming. Her Master smiled down at her weaving, jiggling buttocks and selected the spot where the first blow would land, then raised his crop, “For a first offence,” his smile widened as Gabrielle screamed again, “the penalty is twelve. Six on each cheek.”

  Gabrielle froze, then lunged wildly forward as leather cracked across her right buttock to leave a scarlet stripe of scorching heat raging through her bottom and bringing a strangled wail from her throat. Five more strokes followed in quick succession, alternating between her left and right cheeks and as her flesh was adorned with stinging lines of fire, the writhing blonde was reduced to muffled sobbing as her buttocks turned cherry-red.

  Her Master applied the seventh stroke, then thrust his hand between her quivering thighs to finger the velvet softness of her defenseless labia and stroke her cruelly exposed clitoris.

  Gabrielle gave a wavering scream as she felt her body invaded and her belly kicked violently as the contrast between pain and unbearably sweet pleasure overwhelmed her brain with conflicting emotions.

  The eighth, ninth and tenth strokes, each followed by prolonged arousal of her engorged labia and hard-swollen clitoris sent her into a limbo of ecstatic anguish and as she spun down into a whirlpool of masochistic rapture, her glowing
buttocks pressed upwards and back to meet the crop and fingers of her Master.

  The eleventh stroke and its accompanying arousal brought Gabrielle to the brink of an enormous orgasm and her sex ran with the juices of her passion as the calculated cruelty of her punishment drove her beyond her limits into a world where pain and pleasure were the same and her need was a bright, white-hot flame in her belly.

  “You will climax for me now, slave,” her Master commanded. As the twelfth and last stroke burned across her bottom and his fingers buried themselves in the wet heat of her sex, Gabrielle screamed her obedience and submission and her belly erupted in volcanic contractions to release gigantic tidal waves of scalding love juices.

  Time and again her belly convulsed with stunning power and as her Master pulled his fingers from her body, jet after jet of her juices sprayed from the pulsing flower of her sex to spatter her flexing thighs and the floor beneath her with the incontrovertible evidence of her complete sexual subjugation.

  Moaning in the throes of uncontrollable ecstasy, Gabrielle was unaware of anything but the explosive power of her orgasm and as her body and brain surrendered to the molten inferno that was her belly, her Master stood watching as she exhibited the almost limitless depths of sexual passion that could be extracted from a truly submissive slave.

  Passion which he, as her Master, intended to exploit to the full.

  Chapter Five

  When Gabrielle finally came down from her sexual “high” it was to find herself alone and still firmly chained to the floor rings in her Master’s farmhouse. Now that she was no longer distracted, every muscle in her body seemed to be protesting while her whip-striped bottom smarted as if she had been stung by a swarm of bees.

  She supposed there was nothing to be done about any of it until her Master chose to release her and was just starting to try to take her mind off her discomfort by remembering how incredible her orgasm had been…and then it suddenly dawned on her. She was thinking like a slave. Passively accepting everything that had been done to her as if it was perfectly reasonable behavior for a man to kidnap a woman, bind and gag her and then whip her to an enforced orgasm if she failed to have the right expression on her face.

  She tensed in her bonds and then slowly and unwillingly forced herself to relax as best she could. Remembering that whether it was reasonable or not, she was a prisoner and while she remained in the hands of her Master, she had no option but to endure whatever pain or pleasure he chose to inflict on her. It was neither right nor fair, but that was not relevant to her situation. Her best hope was for her to be what he wanted her to be. Wasn’t it?

  She remembered how terrified she had been at the edge of the meadow and her gratitude and relief when her Master opened the door and she had fallen into his strong arms. Her feelings of excitement when he had made her kneel and display her body to him. Even how beautiful and desirable she had felt as his eyes drank in her every curve and hollow.

  It was true that he had whipped her without mercy, but at the same time he had given her the most intense and satisfying climax that she had ever had. It had been a complete revelation to her. She had never imagined such extreme pleasure was even possible, let alone that it could have been brought about by the two completely opposite sensations of pain and pleasure.

  Somehow it had…and Gabrielle shivered involuntarily as she was brought face-to-face with the uncomfortable and frightening fact that she would never have…could never have…achieved such undreamed-of heights of ecstasy if she had been free and able to exert some level of control over the situation and her own body. It had been the fact that she was in bondage and powerless to influence what was done to her that had forced her to go far beyond the limits she would have set for herself and experience for the first time the awesome depths of total sexual submission.

  Gabrielle took a deep, deep breath and then began to examine her feelings and emotions as carefully and deliberately as she could, searching for the truth about her true character and innermost desires. For long minutes she stared, unseeing, at the wooden floor before her and her breathing slowed as she concentrated intently. Then, as if waking from a trance, her eyes re-focused and she gave a soft sigh. If her bit-gag had allowed it, Gabrielle knew she would have been smiling, for she had found her answer…her truth…and would follow wherever it led.

  She accepted that it would be hard and often embarrassing….sometimes even painful and frightening…but those demons she would have to deal with as they arose.

  For her, there was no other path. Not for a naturally submissive slave…

  It was very late when Matthew returned to his pony-slave and as he walked up behind her, his erection stiffened and bulged to the erotic sight of her jutting, whip-striped buttocks, spread thighs and glistening sex. He was her Master and as her only duty was to please and satisfy his desires he saw no reason why she should not serve him there and then. He unzipped his trousers and knelt behind her and as his fully erect maleness slid into the hot, slippery channel of her sex, Gabrielle gave a wordless squeal and her body surrounded him with moist heat as she pressed back against his belly and thighs, impaling herself on his hardened shaft.

  It was not the reaction he had anticipated from her so early in her training, but he was not about to complain and merely assumed that her fear of another whipping was so great that she dared not try to hold back and was desperate to please him.

  As she should be, he thought smugly and sent his hands snaking around her waist to fasten on her taut breasts and then rolling her sensitive nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

  After coming to her momentous decision, Gabrielle had fallen into a shallow doze filled with erotic dreams of bondage slave-girls and when her Master’s thick shaft penetrated her sex, her reaction was entirely the product of her subconscious mind’s preoccupation with submissive sexual fantasies. By the time her eyes sprang open and she was fully aware of what was happening, she was already filled with his erect flesh and her nipples held prisoner by his fingers.

  It was as if her dreams had come to life and as Gabrielle felt his hands on her breasts and his shaft begin to lunge into her gaping sex, a monstrous orgasm thundered into her belly and sprays of her heated juices showered down to bathe her Master in the hot rain of her immediate submission.

  With a deep groan of pleasure as he felt her internal muscles convulse around his maleness as she came, Gabrielle’s Master drove into her with all of the masculine power at his command, pounding deeper and deeper into her seething belly and squeezing her throbbing nipples as she screamed in the helpless ecstasy of her first climax and the onset of her second.

  In a matter of seconds, Gabrielle came again and as her body shuddered wildly to the frenzied pulsing of her flooded belly, her eyes bulged and she gave a shrill wail of disbelief as her Master’s distended organ bludgeoned to the very core of her being and the hosing jets of his seed poured into her body to trigger her third shattering orgasm in as many minutes.

  With her brain in as much turmoil as her body, Gabrielle whimpered brokenly as he withdrew from her churning belly, for she had learned what it was to be used as a full slave by a totally dominant Master and knew that the path she had chosen…the path of full and absolute submission…would demand far more from her than she had ever envisaged in her wildest imaginings. More than she could have imagined…and perhaps more than she could give…

  Sagging in her bonds and with her body still shaking from ongoing mini-explosions that racked her belly, she felt her Master’s hands release the clips at her knees, the chain between her collar and single-glove and then unbuckle the straps that had held her bit-gag between her teeth for so long.

  She winced as the bit was pulled from her mouth and then groaned as her jaws protested at being forced to move after their extended immobility.

  “I imagine you could do with a bit of a break, slave,” her Master’s voice came from above her still firmly tethered head. “And you must be thirsty by now. I’ll lengthe
n that chain for you.”

  He did, but only by the length of the chain he had taken from her single-glove, still leaving her only about a foot of movement.

  Even so, that was cause for Gabrielle to be thankful and she twisted her head to look shyly up at him and whispered, “Thank you…Master. I am grateful.”

  “Good. Then I will fetch you some water.”

  He strode from the room but there was a shock in store for Gabrielle, for when her Master returned and squatted down beside her, she saw that he held a stainless steel dog’s bowl in his hand. He placed it on the tiles in front her and said, “There you are, slave. Go ahead and drink your fill,” then sat back and waited with a great grin on his face.

  It was obvious to Gabrielle what he meant to make her do, but she didn’t want to believe he would humiliate her so cruelly and knew that her only hope of making him relent was to keep a tight hold on the anger she felt inside.

  “Master, I can’t drink without my arms.”

  “Oh yes you can, slave,” he chuckled and Gabrielle dropped her eyes to prevent him seeing how furious she was. “Don’t forget, slave, that you are here to be trained as a pony-girl and ponies seem to manage without arms, now don’t they?”

  Gabrielle stayed silent, refusing to dignify such a ridiculous statement with an answer.

  “I said, don’t they, slave. Answer me, or I shall be displeased with you and you know what that means, don’t you?”

  Gabrielle was beaten and she knew it, “Yes, Master. Ponies manage without arms, Master.”

  “That’s right. And so will you. Now, drink before I lose patience with you.”

  The barely veiled threat was perfectly clear and Gabrielle knew that the ‘discussion’ was over. Any further delay on her part would be to risk yet another meeting between her bottom and his crop.

  “Yes, Master,” she replied quickly, deciding that a little humiliation was much better than a lot of cropping and lowered her head to the bowl.