Had she not still been so elated at Beauty’s arrival Sam might have felt resentful at having her birthday present seemingly being turned into some sort of character test, or a reminder of the extra responsibilities it would incur. But none of that seemed to matter right then and she passed it off lightly.
‘Oh, I know how to look after ponygirls, Father. I mean I’ve been riding at the Foundry for over a year. I always comb and wash them down after rides.’
‘But sometimes only after being reminded to, so I hear. Face it, Sam; you’ve not had a good track record when it comes to treating slaves properly. Remember the business about Grandfather’s bitchpets?’
Sam winced. Last year there had been a problem with Sam mistreating some slaves who had been provided for her Grandfather’s entertainment. They had been put into expensive remote controlled dog suits which Sam had managed to ruin. It had been blown out of all proportion in Sam’s opinion, however on her father’s orders she had been given a severe bare bottom paddling by Cleaver until she had humiliatingly wet herself in pain. She had not been able to sit down for days afterwards. Her buttocks clenched in reflex at the memory.
Sam loved her life in Shackleswell, with all the benefits being a member of one of its wealthiest families entailed, but she sometimes wished certain nineteenth century values and traditions had been updated. Irontown was an unashamedly patriarchal society where men held all the positions of power and women, even free women, were expected ultimately to defer to their judgement, enforced if necessary by the strap or cane. During her beating, for instance, her mother had been strapped down next to her having her own bare bottom tanned by her father on the grounds that her over-indulgence of Sam had contributed to her misbehaviour.
By Irontown law, until she was twenty-one, her father could still order her to undergo another punishment like it... or worse. Far worse.
Of course she was free to leave Shackleswell and make her own way in the outside world that knew nothing of its secret ways. But then she could not take a slave with her. And she would rather have the right to own a lovely creature like Beauty, even at the risk of further beatings, than live a truly emancipated life.
‘Please don’t bring that up again, Father. I’ve learned my lesson.’
‘I hope so. You always were careless with your toys even when you were young. And you haven’t had to care for any of the stable mounts twenty-four hours a day. This will be different. Beauty is now your personal slave and pony. If you so choose you alone can enjoy all the pleasure and service she can give you, but that means you must keep her fit and healthy as you would any pet. Owning a slave is a privilege and it comes at a price. But it’s worth paying. Show her care and consideration and treat her fairly and she’ll reward you with years of faithful service.’
‘Oh, I know how to make her obey me.’
‘You’ll learn that there’s a huge difference between fearful obedience and cheerful obedience. By all means be firm with her. She’s been trained to expect that. But if you want to win that cup, you’ll have to learn how make her love and respect you.’
Sam frowned. What did she need Beauty’s respect for? She had total ownership and mastery of her body. Wasn’t that enough?
* * *
But that night, after the household had retired, it was not thoughts of the Lister Cup that were uppermost in Sam’s mind as she led Beauty into her bedroom and locked the door behind them. Until now she had only been allowed to use house slaves for her pleasure with permission, which had been withheld on several occasions as a punishment for bad behaviour. But now Beauty was hers alone to do with as she pleased. And tonight it pleased her to have Beauty serve as a pleasure slave.
Sam had a large en suite bedroom fitted out in typical Irontown fashion to suit the special needs of a slave-using occupant. There were convenient tether rings set in the walls of both the bedroom and bathroom, while the toilet unit and bidet were fitted with flush controls and specialized nozzles that could be operated without the use of hands. In addition a drawer in her wardrobe was full of straps, chains, lashes and phalluses of different functions. There were also standard extending rods and braces built into the head and foot of her iron-framed bed, which could transform it into a general purpose slave restraining and display device. Beds like hers were popular exports to those select friends and affiliates of Irontown society scattered about the country who secretly maintained enclaves of a slave-owning lifestyle while superficially conforming to the egalitarian freedoms and civilized trappings of modern Britain.
In this room Sam had all that was necessary to assert her dominance over Beauty and teach her to obey her every wish. The possibilities of shaping her mind and body made Sam quite lightheaded. She’d show her parents that she knew how to keep and train a slave properly.
Sam found she was trembling with anticipation and almost gave in to the temptation to lift her dress, lie back in her bed and have Beauty pleasure her there and then. But it would be more satisfying if they were both properly prepared first.
Clipping Beauty’s leash to a wall ring Sam eagerly stripped off her own clothes. She caught sight of herself in the full length mirror on the wardrobe door and approved of what she saw.
She had a neat chin and good cheekbones. Her mouth was wide and her lips full and sensuous. Her hazel eyes were clear and determined and her nose was firm. She had a pleasing body with a supple curve to her spine, a trim waist and good shoulders. Her breasts were neat, prominent and hung well, with scooping upper slopes and plump uptilted soft red nipples. Her legs were a nice balance between strength and shapeliness, with smoothly rounded buttocks. Between the tops of her thighs was a wide delta of thin auburn curls which capped her pale-lipped nether mouth.
Sam drew Beauty over to the wardrobe so that the mirror reflected both of them together. Naked the contrast between them was even more marked. She stood behind Beauty and embraced her, looking over Beauty’s shoulder at her own reflection as she cupped and squeezing her slave’s breasts and ran her fingers over the silky smooth swell of her pubic mound and into the moist valley of her cleft. She turned Beauty round and ran her hands across her magnificent buttocks, feeling the strength of the gluteal muscles under their soft sheath of feminine fat. She ran a finger through the cleft between them, tickling the tight pucker of her anus which clenched and then relaxed invitingly. Beauty shivered at her touch, her nipples swelling into hard buds, while Sam revelled in this intimacy with her new slave. The warm scent of her body filled her nostrils. There was so much she was going to do with her!
Sam felt her own pussy was wetting in anticipation of the pleasures to come. Why should she not have Beauty now? But, both surprised and proud of her own self control, instead Sam forced herself to remove Beauty’s bridle and bit, pony shoes and arm binder. Underneath she had on standard self-locking cuffs opened by a common key everybody in Irontown carried. Perhaps later she would have them replaced with a set that only she could open, but they would do for now. She clipped Beauty’s wrists together behind her back, admiring the strength of her shoulders and tone of her pectorals which helped carry her full breasts so proudly.
Sam stood back for a moment, considering thoughtfully the one orifice she had not yet explored: Beauty’s sensuous full lips. Of course they would be put to use giving her oral delights; that was taken for granted, but should she allow her to speak on a regular basis? It was a moot point amongst her contemporaries.
A ponygirl was not expected to speak, at least in public, except to make the normal series of accepted pony sounds, such as snuffles, whinnies and neighs. Household maids spoke when addressed or when their duties required. But a personal pleasure slave or sex toy was a special case and her vocal freedom was very much down to individual choice.
Exchanging words with her personal living property opened up another level of intimacy. Beauty could be taught to utter words of love or declaration
‘You may speak,’ she said.
‘Thank you, Mistress,’ Beauty said simply.
‘What is your pony name?’
‘My pony name is “Beauty”, Mistress.’
Her voice was pleasantly pitched but it was uncultured. Briefly Sam wondered about her background. Girls ended up in Shackleswell for many reasons and came from many different places. Then she decided that her past was unimportant. All that mattered was what she could make of her future. Beauty belonged to her now, body and soul, to do with as she wanted.
‘From now on you will answer to the name Beauty at all times. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, Mistress.’
‘I want you cleaned up. We’ll go to the bathroom now.’
‘Yes, Mistress.’
Sam wanted her new slave’s body to be perfectly clean and free of any traces left by anybody who had handled her before this moment. From now on any marks, dirt or residues of bodily fluids Beauty bore would be put there by herself alone.
First Sam put Beauty on the toilet so she could empty out her wastes. It was a thrill to command a girl to perform such an intimate act in front of her and see her obey without question, with just a slight lowering of her eyes as a stream of pee hissed from between her love lips to suggest a delightfully lingering hint of shame.
Then she moved her to the bidet so that her front and rear passages were flushed out. Sam ensured the douche jets were on high so that the water foamed and bubbled merrily out of Beauty’s vagina and anus. Beauty gasped and shuddered as the flow surged through her, but she held her legs wide and did not attempt to pull off the intruding nozzles.
Next Sam hooked Beauty’s leash to a ring in the shower stall, got in with her and washed both of them down. Later perhaps she would train Beauty to bathe and wash her, but for now she wanted to handle her intimately as she would a pony totally reliant on her to take care of it, enjoying her helplessness. In the hot steamy confines of the shower stall their naked soapy bodies rubbed sensuously together and Sam very nearly had an orgasm as she handled Beauty’s slippery sex mouth while straddling the girl’s thigh and rubbing her pussy against its smooth muscles. But she stuck to her plan. While still in the stall she brushed Beauty’s teeth, pressing her back against the tiled wall. Beauty obediently held her mouth open wide, just like a pony having its teeth examined. Her teeth, Sam noted, were pleasantly regular and very white. The toothpaste foamed in Beauty’s mouth and some bubbles dribbled onto the upper slopes of her breasts.
Inspired, Sam squeezed more toothpaste out and rubbed it over Beauty’s nipples, making her shiver. Sam squirted out more toothpaste and worked it up into Beauty’s cleft. The girl gasped and shuddered as it stung her, but made no attempt to resist. Sam twisted Beauty around, bent her over and spread her legs. Pushing the head of the tube up between her buttocks she forced the nozzle into her anus and squeezed half the tube up inside the tight elastic tunnel of her rectum, making Beauty moan as the heavy flow of paste stung and burned as it oozed up into her tender insides like hot/cold minty lava.
Sam left the paste inside Beauty for a full minute before flushing her vagina and anus out again. The paste bubbled and foamed out of Beauty’s anal mouth in a white spluttering jet leaving only the minty aroma behind. Sam felt she had taken a great step forward. She had done this because it had amused her and because she could. She needed no other reason. That it had caused Beauty some minor discomfort in the process was nothing compared to the pleasure it had given her. That was all that mattered.
When they were both clean and dry and carrying the fragrant aroma of shower gel with them, Sam led Beauty back into the bedroom.
‘Now I’m going to teach you to obey me without question,’ she told her slave.
Sam twisted the knobs capping the posts at the foot of her bed and then pulled on the crossbar that formed the upper of two horizontal bars that linked the bedposts and contained the foot of the mattress. The bar and the knob-capped ends rose smoothly upward on rods that had been telescoped into the tubular posts. Sam locked them off when the crossbar was above head height, so that it now formed a goalpost-like frame rising above the end of her bed.
Recessed into the rod sides were snap hooks which when pulled drew out wire ropes after them that ran through the posts. Positioning Beauty between the posts facing in towards the head of the bed, Sam re-clipped her wrist cuffs to the hooks that ran down from the upper corners of the frame. She pulled out more hooks and ropes from the foot of the bedposts and secured Beauty’s ankles in the same way, so that she now stood spreadeagled between them. Then she adjusted the tensioning keys for the rope pulleys which were hidden in the base of the bedframe until they were all taut.
Sam stood back, feeling a thrill as she admired Beauty’s lovely dark body strung out between the posts and knowing she was all hers to do with as she wished. The bedroom lights shone off the soft, strong swells of Beauty’s dimpled buttocks, casting the deep cleft between them into shadow, up from which rose the supple groove of her spine. Seen from the front her up-stretched arms accentuated the rise and fall of her lush full breasts, the light caressing their subtle merging of cone and globe that capped the peaks of her dusky nipples. Below them the deep whirl of her navel stood out, pulsating with her breathing, as did the cleft pout of her pubes which was so full of promise.
From its drawer Sam took out a large long box which she set down on the bed and opened up. Within was a selection of her favourite restraints and punishment devices. She laid them out so Beauty could see them. There were canes, lashes and paddles, assorted cuffs, hobbles, clips and binders, and of course a selection of dildos and vibrators. She took up a suspension bridle, climbed into the bed and buckled it about Beauty’s head.
The bridle had a large ring stitched to two heavy straps where they crossed the crown of her head, one going across her cheeks and under her chin and the other going from her crown to the back of her neck, where it had a slot through which Sam fed Beauty’s plait, over her head and divided about her nose. The heavy straps were joined at the cheeks and back of the neck by a gag strap with cheek hooks with broad flat tips then went inside her mouth between her teeth designed to give a slave something to bite on. It held her mouth open but did not prevent her speaking. Sam pulled out a snap hook recessed into the very middle of the bed frame crossbar and hooked it to the crown ring, then adjusted the tension on the rope to ensure Beauty kept her head high. Sam wanted to see the expression on her face as she disciplined her, no matter how much she thrashed about.
Sam was determined to show her father she knew perfectly well how to break Beauty in and did not need advice from him or Cleaver. And she knew it was important to maintain eye contact when giving her her first taste of discipline. From the start Beauty had to associate Sam’s face and voice with the threat of pain and so instil in her the instinct to obey.
She knelt down on the bed and stroked Beauty’s body and kissed her nipples, feeling them pulse and swell against her lips. When they were swollen into tiny mountains of India rubber she bit on them until Beauty whimpered in pain. Sam felt her loins give a hot liquid flip as she saw the sparkle this had brought to Beauty’s eyes. I did that, she thought proudly.
Sam took up a spanking paddle from the selection and showed it to Beauty. It had a pliant black rubber blade and a springy shaft and made a satisfying swish as she swiped it through the air in front of Beauty’s face.
‘Now I’m going to beat you with this until you cry,’ she told her. ‘You haven’t done anything wrong and I want to make sure you never do. You see when I show you to the rest of my friends at the stables I want them to be in no doubt that I’ve got the most obedient slave in Irontown. And when I ride you I want to be sure you’ll obey my every command instantly and without hesitation, even if that means having to run your heart out to do it. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, Mistress,’ Beauty said, her voice slurred by her gag.
‘Good. I’ll start on your bottom and then work round to your boobs and pussy. Don’t try to be brave. I want to see tears. I want you to remember this first beating all your life.’
Sam clambered off the bed and moved round to stand behind Beauty’s lovely spread-eagled body. She stroked the smooth, full warm double swell of her buttocks, assessing their resilience. Yes, they could take a good beating without sustaining any serious damage. Of course she did not want to harm those magnificent muscles beneath their soft sheath of flesh, with all the power in them that she had felt when Beauty had been harnessed to the hobby horse, but they simply begged to be paddled. It was the natural starting point for any lesson in discipline. The only drawback with dark flesh was that it did not show the blush of a beating as readily as paler tints did. No matter, she would just have to be a little firmer.
Her first stroke landed with a most crisp and satisfying smack on the heavy undercurve of Beauty’s right buttock cheek, sending a ripple through Beauty’s bottom flesh and bringing forth a gasp of pain as she jerked in her bonds, flinching instinctively away from the impact, although her cuffs and ropes did not allow her much freedom of movement. The fronts of her thighs just above the knees were also pressed against the lower bar of the bedframe, forcing her to keep her legs straight. Sam shivered with a thrill at the sight and sound the blow made. She stroked the trembling posterior and felt the hot blood rising to the surface of the skin. Oh, this was going to be a delight!
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