|
|
Sloane
slowly pulled open her special underwear drawer. It was special for a couple
of reasons. It contained the expensive, silk and lace bras and panties that Sloane
wore on dates, but that was not the real source of the drawer’s specialness.
That rested in The Collection.
Sloane thought of her little herd of toy ponies as The Collection. The toys
ranged from cheap “My Little Ponies” to one beautifully painted lead antique.
All of them were mementoes from relationships in Sloane’s past; all had
arrived in the same manner at the same point in the relationship: the second
date.
Invariably on a first date, Sloane at some point would make a joke request
for a pony. The guy might ask “What can I get you?” meaning “to drink” or “to
eat,” but Sloane would always reply with a smile and “A pony?” in a little
girl voice that made the guy smile back and usually chuckle. Sloane knew that
on their second date she would be getting her pony.
Every time, the guy thought he was being clever and sweet and original by
bringing a toy pony. Every time Sloane would coo, giggle, and act as if
nobody had ever done this for her. Sloane loved ponies. More specifically
Sloane loved toy ponies. She had never ridden a real pony even once, not even
as a child. In fact, real ponies made Sloane a little nervous for reasons she
could not quite identify.
Still tonight was another second date and Sloane could feel that the pony she
would be given, for she was sure it was coming, would be extra special, which
certainly described the man she was meeting.
His name was Raoul.
***
“You know” said a deep, rich and pleasantly lubricious voice to Sloane’s left
“some women find they love dogs, others are drawn to monkeys and apes and a
few finds big cats most appealing, but I see you love horses. You have
exceptional taste. There is really nothing like the site of a
well-conditioned horse being put through its paces by a beautiful woman.”
Sloane looked up from the book she was browsing through in the biology
section of the bookstore. It was a pictorial guide to ponies. The owner of
the hypnotic voice turned out to be a man about Sloane’s height, but who more
than made up for his lack of height in the rest of his appearance.
He was in at least his late forties and incredibly rugged looking. His
maturity had added a dusting of grey through his lazily curled coal black
hair. He reminded Sloane of a delicious combination of both the Patriarch and
the Romantic Hero from a Telenovella. The tight
pants, white shirt and dark silk blazer only added to this impression. Sloane
was transfixed by the sight of him.
“Raoul” the vision said, holding out his hand “and
you are?”
Sloane found her voice as she shook Raoul’s hand “Sl-Sloane” she stammered.
“Well Sl-Sloane,” Raoul
continued with a grin “allow me to buy you a drink.”
Sloane drifted behind the man to the small coffee area and took a seat on the
sofa near the counter.
“So, Sloane,” Raoul began “what can I get you?”
Sloane answered instinctively, her voice dropping down to mimic that of a
tiny girl “Oooh, can I have a pony?”
Raoul laughed indulgently “Of course, my dear, but
perhaps a coffee or some cocoa will suffice for tonight?”
Sloane found herself blushing “Oh yes, a cup of cocoa would be great!”
“Ah, a fine choice, I shall order two”
***
That had been the previous weekend, now it was Friday night and Sloane would
be meeting Raoul at the subway stop near Raoul’s private club for dinner. The thought of eating at
a private club sent a little thrill through Sloane and she shivered with the
pleasure of anticipation.
Picking up her current favourite pony and hugging it briefly, Sloane selected
a rose-coloured silk thong and its matching push-up bra. If Raoul gives me a really nice pony, Sloane thought, I will
let him see them.
***
The streetlights were reflecting from slushy puddles as Sloane left the
subway station scanning the area for Raoul. He
stood with a jade green umbrella, languidly beneath a lamppost near the
entrance, protection against the late snows that swirled in the February
winds like tiny pieces of confetti.
As Sloane approached her date, Raoul appeared to
take a deep breath, which he held until Sloane stood next to him. “My dear,
you look absolutely wonderful, I’m so pleased that you took my advice on
wearing the Jodhpurs.”
Sloane had found the snug riding breeches gift-wrapped and waiting for her in
her mailbox earlier in the week, along with a note asking her to call Raoul. At first, they were a little daunting. Sloane
worried that they made her ass look huge, but she knew that Raoul had all but insisted that she wear them in his
phone call.
“I chose this umbrella this evening as it is a tribute to the exquisite colour of your eyes” Raoul
continued, indicating the green canopy with a brief movement of his hand,
before holding the hand out for Sloane to take. From anyone else, the line
would have been the height of cliché, but when Raoul
said it, it sounded fresh and charming. Sloane smiled, her deep green eyes
lighting up, and took Raoul’s hand.
The couple walked a few blocks through the swirling snow until they came to a
large and forbidding looking building. What little external lighting there
was illuminated a gothic arrangement of arches and crenellations, Sloane even
thought she saw a gargoyle or three skulking around the gutters.
“The Assisi Club” Raoul announced with barely
contained pride, “I am one of its charter members.”
**
Sloane felt like an Empress. She and Raoul sat snuggled
close in the opulently decorated private booth. Raoul
had been greeted as if he were some long-exiled
Emperor returning to his people and Sloane had received similar attention
because of her connection to him.
Raoul had ushered Sloane to their table, then
ordered the most expensive wine and most exquisite entrees from the menu.
Between courses he had spoken to her of how beautiful he found her, backing
up his compliments with confident caresses and kisses.
Now, as she sat awaiting the coffee pot that her date had ordered, Sloane
rested her head against Raoul’s shoulder and turned
her face expectantly for the latest of numerous kisses that had been
exchanged since they sat down. Raoul still had not
provided the toy pony Sloane had grown used to receiving on second dates.
Judging by the way the evening was going, she doubted that the night would
end without the traditional presentation. The new addition to the collection
would definitely be a memorable one; Sloane was sure of that.
The coffee came in an ornate silver pot on a matching tray with tiny little
cups. Raoul thanked the server and poured a glass
for Sloane. Proffering the vessel he said “To ease your way” a phrase that
Sloane briefly wondered about, but she still took the cup; her reasoning clouded
slightly by the two bottles of expensive Bordeaux she had already consumed.
The coffee tasted strong and sweet, sweeter than any coffee Sloane had ever
tasted. Her head and vision began to swim and slowly, almost as if she were
sinking into a deep warm bath, Sloane passed out.
***
Prickles. Prickles and the smell of leather, sweat and some unidentified
“earthy scent.” Prickles and the smell of leather,
sweat and some unidentified “earthy scent” and a slow yearning throb between
her legs. As she came to, Sloane began to experience many sensations,
none of them included the sight of anything. This was due to the silk scarf
tied gently, but with no chance of movement, across Sloane’s eyes.
It was the only scrap of cloth covering her body. Sloane sat up unsteadily,
her tongue still tinged with the sweetness of her coffee. “Raoul?” Sloane called and reached up to untie the
blindfold. A pair of strong but gentle hands arrested her movement and she
heard Raoul admonish her “Shh
shh, Sloane.”
“Wh-what’s going on?” Sloane asked, half-demanding
and half-afraid.
She felt a kiss against her cheek and a hand gently caressing her neck. “This
is for your surprise, my dear” Sloane’s lover continued, his voice like a
soothing lotion on her skin. Sloane noticed that each stroke sent shivers
through her and increased the emptiness she felt between her legs.
Instinctively, Sloane turned her head allowing Raoul
to kiss her mouth. She moaned as Raoul slipped his
tongue into her mouth and cupped one of her tits, pinching the already
painfully stiff nipple. This is better than any toy pony, thought the lust
befuddled Sloane and she allowed Raoul to insinuate
his hand between her thighs to finger her dripping pussy slowly.
“I do so love to watch how the Cantharides affect a woman, and you, my dear,
have had a near-perfect reaction,” Raoul said and
he placed fleeting kisses down Sloane’s neck. Sloane could do little more
than pant with ever growing arousal and thrust her chest against her lover’s
hands to allow him to play with her tits more.
“But, enough of the prologue.” Raoul continued “We
must begin the play itself.” Sloane inwardly sobbed as she felt Raoul draw away from her, but she felt him take her hand
and pull her to her feet. Trusting Raoul, Sloane
was led a few feet before the couple stopped. Wordlessly, Raoul
guided Sloane to lay against what felt like hay
bales.
The bound stems briefly prickled against Sloane’s naked back and ass as she
settled against the makeshift mattress until she discovered the bales covered
with a rough wool blanket. Sloane relaxed so that head lay slightly over the
end of the platform. She passively allowed Raoul to
arrange her legs so that her thighs stretched wide apart. Knowing that this
displayed her sopping cunt to her lover only made Sloane produce more lube.
Sloane lay breathing shallowly in anticipation until
she felt Raoul take her hand and place it on the
thickest cock shaft she had ever felt. She could barely wrap her fingers
around it and, to her delight, the prick continued to swell at her touch.
Running her fingers down the thick column of flesh, Sloan eventually touched
the widest cock head she had ever experienced, it was more spade
shaped than those of other men and it had a thick and leathery texture to it.
Rather than repulse her, Sloane found that she wanted to bring more pleasure
to this brutally constructed organ than she had ever been inspired to with
other cocks. She gently stroked the monstrous tip with her thumb.
Raoul snorted with excitement and Sloane felt him move
closer so that now, the enormous organ was mere inches from her mouth. Sloane
eagerly leant forward and kissed the gigantic cock head. She darted out her
tongue and tickled the little slit in her lover’s prick before opening her
mouth wide to take the swollen tip in.
Sloane so wanted to squeeze her legs together to stimulate her clit, which
throbbed almost as much as the huge organ stuffing her mouth, but the width
of the platform prevented this. Instead, she reached down and began to stroke
herself as she licked around the impossibly wide crown of her lover’s prick.
Suddenly her mouth was empty. It seemed like an eternity to Sloane as she
waited for what she knew to be inevitable. Eventually it came, she felt the
enormous cock head ease between her cunt lips. Sloane lay back and sighed as
she awaited the first inward thrust. It was then that her sight returned.
No longer blindfolded, Sloane took in her surroundings. She lay in what
appeared to be a stable but which, on a further inspection, was obviously a
private room away from the dinning hall of the club. Sloane was surprised to
see Raoul standing near where her head hung over
the hay bales.
In his hand, he held the silk scarf and, like her, he was entirely naked.
Sloane looked at his long, thick, caramel colored cock and realized that,
while it was very large, it could not possibly be the organ she had only just
been sucking. Or that was presently lodged between her pussy lips
This observation spurred Sloane slowly to drag her gaze from Raoul, until she found herself staring up the long and
noble face of a tiny horse. "You see, I keep my promises," Raoul murmured sardonically. The pony nickered softly,
rolled its soft, brown eyes and flared its nostrils at Sloane.
Sloane looked down to confirm what she already knew, it was the pony whom she
had been servicing and it was the pony who was poised to enter her with his
gigantic cock. Sloane was shocked at herself that the emotion she felt most
strongly was impatience that they had not already begun.
"This is Nero," Raoul said, patting the
beast's neck. "He is a purebred Shetland pit pony. One of my favorites,
he is perfectly bred and trained for this, as you shall see" and with
that he made a little clicking sound with his tongue.
“Oh oh
ooooooohh” Sloane
moaned as the pony’s swollen cock breeched the entrance to her pussy and
stretched her vagina wider than it had ever stretched before. The Pony
paused, leaving Sloane impaled on the immense column of horseflesh.
“Now, my dear,” Raoul said as he bent down next to
Sloane’s face. “Nero is a well-trained boy and will obey commands,
I wonder if you know what command he is waiting for.”
Pinned to the bales and adjusting to the intense sensations, Sloane racked
her brain thinking of the right word. Inspiration dawned and she
instinctively raised her feet, hugged the animal’s flanks and moaned “Giddy
up.” “You really are a natural” Raoul exulted in
satisfaction.
Sloane held onto Nero for dear life as he pistoled
his cock in and out of her clinging pussy. At first Sloane barely made a
sound, instead merely contorting her face in silent groans of mixed pleasure
and a special kid of discomfort that acted as timpani to the arousal that
shuddered through her naked body. However, her ecstasy soon found voice, alternating
between “ooooh oh oh”
with each inward drive of Nero’s prick and “uuuuuuhhh
uuuuuhhh” which marked the leathery tipped penis’
outward progression.
All through this, Raoul watched and nonchalantly
played with his own substantial prick. After a while of listening to Sloane
crying out, he walked over and held the back of her head. Turning her face to
his cock and without hesitating, he slid his stiff penis between Sloane’s
lips and proceeded to fuck her mouth, muffling Sloane’s cries.
Fucked by both man and beast, Sloane felt transformed into pure ecstasy, she
almost didn’t notice the pulsing of both of her lover’s cocks until first Raoul and then Nero pumped salvo after salvo of cum into
her. The inundation pushed the girl over the edge into her own climax and she
began to cry as the pleasure overwhelmed her.
Nero’s prick exited Sloane’s cunt with an audible “plop” and, for a moment,
Sloane lay alone breathing in short desperate gasps, as Raoul
led the pony back to his stall.
Her
breathing had returned to almost normal when Raoul
returned.
Raoul helped Sloan to her feet. Her back and ass
were reddened from the friction caused as her had body writhed against the
horse blanket, "We'll get you all cleaned up now. You performed
beautifully" Sloane swallowed the last trace of Raoul’s
cum and smiled at this compliment, brushing a stray strand of hay from her
long brown hair. A bath would be nice since Nero’s sperm was already draining
from her ravished cunt and drying in sticky patches on her inner thighs
"We are having a party here tomorrow night" Raoul
continued, "and a few other members of the club will be in attendance.
I'd very much like you to come; I believe you will enjoy it immensely"
Sloane's eyes lit up, "Will there be a pony ride?" She asked breathlessly
in her little girl voice.
Raoul laughed "Oh yes! How could there not
be?" and he patted Sloane's naked ass as if she were a prize mare which
had just won the Triple Crown.
|
|