by Elise Hepner
(07/15/09)
The bit clinked into her jaw. Taste of pennies clogging the back of her throat. Thick weight riding her tongue, keeping her teeth in check. The bite of the leather around her head made her senses tingle.
The straps had just been shined. Polish smell giving way to something older, primal. Heard the metal clasp rasp into place. The man bent down to run the whip along her sweet cunt. Pausing to smell the roses mingled with hay, wood, and smoke that wafted from his clothes.
Feet aching in boots with silver shoes, she tried to shimmy away. A smooth crack of the whip before she could shy. It struck her thigh, immediate, anvil heat and red lines she couldn't see through her blinders.
She felt him take the reins. Back straight, feet in line with hips, ass out. Her playback memory was rigid. The wooden walls in front of her gave way. Spots of sunlight tickled the corners of her eyes. Other horses whining in the stalls.
The final adornment. A butt plug inserted swiftly into her waiting anus. Not a hair out of place, streaming from the plastic nub festooned with ribbons. She was a pretty pony.
He guided her forward with hard hands on the reigns. The standstill bleeding into a quick trot. Thighs still burning from rebuke. Naked except adornments. Lack of sight making the grass outside crunchy under her weight.
The show was about to start.
