Ponygirl

The young man approached, wearing leather shoes, a sportcoat, smoke trailing from the small cigar held between his thumb and index finger. He was a handsome man. And he was her master. Naomi was at least 15 years his senior, but for reasons that were mysterious to her he enjoyed her as much as some of his younger slaves, his 20 to 22-year-old playthings.

When, months ago, he had first seen her on the auction block, he walked up and had a short discussion with the strict auction master. Desperate to get out of the reek auction-house, terrified that she would not be sold at all, she did everything she could to please him, shaking her tits, lifting a leg up and holding it against her chest, her foot above her head, to display her pussy for him. He chuckled mildly, idly fondled her pussy, and went back to the auction master to continue his negotiation.

As he dragged her out of her stone stable stall (the stalls were in the basement, half-underground, of the student residences), he swatted her ass with his whip, folded in half. Most of the University students drove teams of petite, blonde or asian ponygirls prettily done up in latex or fabric tack. Her master went for a very different aesthetic. To begin with, he loved the whip, and Naomi's buttocks, the insides and backs of her thighs, her belly, and the undersides of her breasts still bore marks from lashes she had received months ago. She was always naked except for her high hoof-boots, the iron band that cinched her around her waist, and her rough leather harness.

"How are you doing today, BigTits?" he asked. "Mmmmm, good, my young lordship," she smiled, thrusting out her huge tits. "I want to pull your cart, I'm your slave, I'm your ponybitch." He chuckled, leading her around to the front of the small dogcart. She never felt as much like an animal as when she was hitched to the cart. Her arms were bound behind her back, the tips of her fingers pointed upward, her wrists chained to the collar around her neck. This arrangement made her thrust her breasts out and apart, and they bounced horribly whenever she walked, trotted or ran anywhere.

She had a big, oval ass. She pulled the ponycart, walking slowly, making sure her young master had a good view of her naked asshole. To do this, she bent forward slightly, spread her legs and thighs apart, and stuck her ass up and out. Her posture accentuated her breasts even more than her armbinder. It was slow for her to pull the cart this way, but she knew her master wasn't really interested in speed. Her pussy was shaved and waxed; she had tan lines from the thong she had worn while sunning herself over the previous week. She was in a state of total, mature obedience, trying to please her handsome master and put on the best show possible for him. He guided her gently with the reins as she retained her humiliating, lascivious posture throughout the short walk.

He directed the cart beside the other ponycarts waiting at the main building. Some of the younger girls were hitched to the rail or immobilized with bondage gear, but she knew her master would use no such devices on her. He trusted her absolutely. He was distracted, in a rush to make his meeting with his tutor -- he unhitched her from the ponycart, issued her the curt instruction to wait until he was done. She knew there was only one position acceptable to him, and assumed it immediately. She was to fold her legs under her and press her chest down, as far as it would go, until her massive breasts were squeezed from the compression against the top of her thighs. Her arms were still bound together, tightly, behind her back. Her hair touched the floor. It was an uncomfortable, submissive position, and she knew not to move or lift her eyes until ordered to, by her master or one of his classmates. She would wait, happily, in patient devotion to her master, the juices in her pussy building in anticipation of the young man's eventual and sudden return.

When he emerged from the building hours later, her knees and back ached from holding the humiliating position. The first sign he was done was a swift kick in the ass. "All fours, whore," he said. He was obviously in a hurry to get home, and, seeing how his whip hand twitched, Naomi tried her hardest to be good.