on her bit and the black pony shifted her weight onto one leg, cocking her graceful hips as she rested one leg.
Clara started as she felt a touch on her arm. It was Anne Presteign.
“Are they not beautiful? Come and take a closer look, George and I are very proud of our stable, we won a rosette at the Rosebowl meeting last year you know.”
Gently but firmly, Clara was propelled forwards.
She had to admit that the three ponies were indeed beautiful as she neared them. They simply exuded sex, cruelty, submission and all those thing s she had come to love about the island.
From the crowns of their heads , where the straps of their bridles met, two peacock feathers nodded in the slight breeze. One strap ran back to the nape of the neck while two others descended the cheeks and ended in large steel rings to which a leather covered bit was attached. Running from the backs of the rings were more straps which had buckles on them, allowing the bridle to be tightly fitted so that the bit sat snugly a t the back of the mouth. T hese straps ran round the back of the head and met the vertical one at the nape. Where all three joined, there was a hole to allow, in the case of the Hispanic slaves, a thick black pony tail to trail prettily onto the upper back. Each girl’s neck was encased in a thick , black leather collar with large silver rings at back and front.
The ponies’ breasts were oddly, but v ery attractively displayed, Clara thought. Another narrow leather strap ran round the back of each slave and was buckled tight, but at the front it swept under the breasts and widened just a little so that each breast was lifted up enough to give it a most appealing forward thrust. The whole contrivance was steadied by two thin straps running up from one point between the breasts and over the shoulders to join the strap across the back .
As Clara walked around to stand in front of one pony she saw that their nipples were pierced and tiny bells had been attached to the rings and the same arrangement was repeated at the navel. But it was at the groin area that Clara got an erotic shock to her belly quite as powerful as taking a whip strike there. Each cunt was split by a s lender leather strap that ran between the lips. It was dragged up hard against the pubic bone making the lips very prominent and pushing them against the thighs. They were also pierced and ringed, Clara noted with a shiver of excitement. Just above the labial cleft the strap divided into two and curved gracefully up to each hip where each was buckled tight to another strap that ran – Anne tugged on the slave’s rein so that she turned slightly and Clara could see – down into the buttock crease and from the anus a tail of real horsehair curved proudly out and down. And carved into the silk smooth flesh of the right buttock was the italicised G brand for Greenlawns.
“Magnificent aren’t they?” Anne asked.
Clara could only nod; her corset suddenly felt suffocatingly tight.
Anne tapped the back of the pony’s thigh with her hand.
“Show your hoof, Misty,” she ordered and the slave raised a foot behind her. Clara saw she had pretty little slippers of soft leather on with slender wedge heels and under the ball of the foot was a delicate, dainty iron horseshoe.
“ They’re plugged front and rear, like you were today. The two straps down her arse join under the tail to keep it raised. The strapping under the breasts is to raise them for the whip,” Anne told her calmly. “You’ll note the guards on the forearms and upper arms.”
Clara did note the leather worked wit h the italicised G again .
“They’re to take the lash when you whip their breasts or crotch from behind. George and I think the bruises on the arms look unsightly.”
Clara felt her heart pound as she surveyed the strapped and harnessed, pierced and branded vision before her. It felt to her as if everything she had experienced up to that moment on the island had been leading up to
Clara started as she felt a touch on her arm. It was Anne Presteign.
“Are they not beautiful? Come and take a closer look, George and I are very proud of our stable, we won a rosette at the Rosebowl meeting last year you know.”
Gently but firmly, Clara was propelled forwards.
She had to admit that the three ponies were indeed beautiful as she neared them. They simply exuded sex, cruelty, submission and all those thing s she had come to love about the island.
From the crowns of their heads , where the straps of their bridles met, two peacock feathers nodded in the slight breeze. One strap ran back to the nape of the neck while two others descended the cheeks and ended in large steel rings to which a leather covered bit was attached. Running from the backs of the rings were more straps which had buckles on them, allowing the bridle to be tightly fitted so that the bit sat snugly a t the back of the mouth. T hese straps ran round the back of the head and met the vertical one at the nape. Where all three joined, there was a hole to allow, in the case of the Hispanic slaves, a thick black pony tail to trail prettily onto the upper back. Each girl’s neck was encased in a thick , black leather collar with large silver rings at back and front.
The ponies’ breasts were oddly, but v ery attractively displayed, Clara thought. Another narrow leather strap ran round the back of each slave and was buckled tight, but at the front it swept under the breasts and widened just a little so that each breast was lifted up enough to give it a most appealing forward thrust. The whole contrivance was steadied by two thin straps running up from one point between the breasts and over the shoulders to join the strap across the back .
As Clara walked around to stand in front of one pony she saw that their nipples were pierced and tiny bells had been attached to the rings and the same arrangement was repeated at the navel. But it was at the groin area that Clara got an erotic shock to her belly quite as powerful as taking a whip strike there. Each cunt was split by a s lender leather strap that ran between the lips. It was dragged up hard against the pubic bone making the lips very prominent and pushing them against the thighs. They were also pierced and ringed, Clara noted with a shiver of excitement. Just above the labial cleft the strap divided into two and curved gracefully up to each hip where each was buckled tight to another strap that ran – Anne tugged on the slave’s rein so that she turned slightly and Clara could see – down into the buttock crease and from the anus a tail of real horsehair curved proudly out and down. And carved into the silk smooth flesh of the right buttock was the italicised G brand for Greenlawns.
“Magnificent aren’t they?” Anne asked.
Clara could only nod; her corset suddenly felt suffocatingly tight.
Anne tapped the back of the pony’s thigh with her hand.
“Show your hoof, Misty,” she ordered and the slave raised a foot behind her. Clara saw she had pretty little slippers of soft leather on with slender wedge heels and under the ball of the foot was a delicate, dainty iron horseshoe.
“ They’re plugged front and rear, like you were today. The two straps down her arse join under the tail to keep it raised. The strapping under the breasts is to raise them for the whip,” Anne told her calmly. “You’ll note the guards on the forearms and upper arms.”
Clara did note the leather worked wit h the italicised G again .
“They’re to take the lash when you whip their breasts or crotch from behind. George and I think the bruises on the arms look unsightly.”
Clara felt her heart pound as she surveyed the strapped and harnessed, pierced and branded vision before her. It felt to her as if everything she had experienced up to that moment on the island had been leading up to
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