Pony Trap

Chapter 1  

Deborah Ford

 

The sight was so arresting that they both stopped arguing and Thomas braked sufficiently hard for his wife, Izabella, to be thrown painfully into her seatbelt.

Having driven on the Sat nav’s instructions through a forest which shielded the sun and emerging into the sunlight at the edge of the woods they were both astonished.

Thomas and Izabella gawped in silence at the two women trotting towards them on the narrow dirt road leading back into the shadowed woodland.

The two women were similarly attired. Both wore tight black, strappy corsets, creating a Marylyn Monroe figure. Matching black tights led down to thigh length boots, the spiky heels of which were easily four inches.

But that wasn’t the amazing part. Not by far.

On each of their heads was a plume of feathers, one in dark blue and the other in a deep maroon colour, bouncing in time with their jogging.

But that was not the amazing bit, still not by far.

They wore bridles. Both of them. A head harness with a horses’ bit between their teeth. The bit was drawn back, appearing uncomfortable in the two women’s mouths. They were both made up, as if for a night club. The darkness around the eyes making the eyes themselves seem huge. Pink lipstick framing the white teeth around the bit.

And still that wasn’t the amazing bit.

The girls were towing a cart with large gleaming wheels down the dirt path. Reins gripped them over their shoulders and around their waists leading back to a third woman sitting in the cart. Their wrists were secured to the  arms of the cart.

As the cart clip clopped closer, so the third woman steering the cart could be better seen. She too was in black trouser suit, with knee high boots, a white blouse with deep frilly decorations scooping down from the neck to her bust and a top hat. Yes, a top hat.

A long whip was set into the cart, perhaps some four feet high. But in the driver’s hand, the same hand that was holding the reins was a long thin crop that was used to slice at the buttocks of the two pony girls in front.

Neither the driver, nor the two pony girls paid them the slightest of attention. Thomas, Izabella, and their car might as well have been invisible.

As the pony girls drew up to the bonnet, Thomas could make out they were wearing voluminous tails held by a harness around their hips.

The cart swept past them in a cloud of dust adding to the dream state in which Thomas and Izabella had succumbed.

“Fucking amazing!” Izabella said, twisting in her seat to see more before the cart now partially hidden by dust clouds, as it disappeared around a curve into the shadows of the woodland.

“I told you,” He gushed. “I said you’d be knocked out by it!”

She slid back into her seat and blinked quickly.

“So sexy isn’t it!” he said, seeking to prompt a reaction.

“Fuck, yeh!”

It was so rare to hear the prim Izabella curse, that hearing two fucks energised Thomas.

“So we can stay the weekend. Yeh?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. It all seems pervy to me.”

“But you saw them!”

“Yeh!”

He lowered his voice in desperation, “So please tell me you’ll give it a go.”

“Well,” she paused for an agonizingly long time. “The outfit was super dead sexy.”

“I knew it. I told you!”

He pressed the accelerator and drove towards the high walls, in which there was a huge castle sized doorway of wood.

A chubby uniformed guard slowed him down and approached in a bored languid style, as if he had performed this dispiriting task many times.

As Thomas wound down his window the guard leaned down with a sigh.

“This is all private property, sir. Even the woods and fields. I am going to have to ask you to leave here. Quickly.”

“No,” Thomas pulled out the letter from The Master. “Look. We have an invite!”

The guard scanned the letter and took in the both of them warily.

The weedy Thomas in tee shirt and jeans and the knockout blonde smiling in the passenger seat wearing tee shirt and jeans – but doing them better justice.

After the guard had his eyeful of Izabella, he pressed a button and said something into a mobile phone. The twin high doors electronically opened onto another gob smacking sight. The golden stately home with its pillared frontage, wide steps.

The guard said, “Drive up to the steps and wait for someone to meet you.”

“Many thanks,” Thomas said as they drove into the grounds.

Around the manor house were dirt tracks, pathways and a concrete road, all between lush green fields … and more amazing sights.

Women in the top hatted outfits, decorated pony girls, muscular men and sexily attired French maids milled around or moved purposefully about their duties.

Thomas said, “I’ve come to heaven!”

“Your heaven,” Izabella said. “For pervs like you.”

They drove slowly past a double floored block, with long open doors, showing more pony girls and women with the top hats. Inside Thomas could just about make out small rooms, with beds and sofas. Very curious.

A few cars and a couple of horse vans were neatly parked opposite the house in a parking area, but Thomas drove to the steps as instructed.

He got out with the haste of a child on its first day of holiday. Izabella exited the car a little more reluctantly, but there were no doubts that The Manor was a staggering sight to behold. Like from a movie of an eighteenth century mansion.

A tall, broad man, with dark skin and jet black tight curly hair bounced down the steps. He wore jodhpurs, a crips white shirt, open at the neck from which bushes of hair stole and a huge confident grin.

Next to him were two black women in the black outfits of the cart driver they had seen in the woodlands. They both seemed tall, maybe on account of the extraordinary heels on their knee height boots. One wore a black curve enhancing jacket, they both had the white blouses with the ruffles about their breasts. They also each wore the top hat they had seen on the driver, making them appear to be sexy giants.

Thomas made to say hello to the confident man, but the man ignored him and immediately greeted his wife.

“You must be Izabella.”

“Yes,” Thomas gushed. “My wife. We’ve been …”

The man grinned a wide toothy smile. “You are every bit as stunning as your husband said.”

Izabella giggled and blushed. “Oh really. And who are you, may I ask?”

Thomas pulled back his shoulders and started with, “This is the guy I’ve been …”

But the tall man took hold of both of Izabella’s hands and announced, “I am The Master.” He laughed. “Yes. It sounds corny. But it sort of works around here.”

Two burly men in dark shirts and white shirts, tight around their muscles came down the steps.

The Master addressed them without looking at them. “Take their things inside and park their car for them. I must show this beauty my not so humble abode.”

Izabella laughed in a way Thomas had never before hear. A girly, nervous giggle.

Thomas opened the boot for the men to take out the cases saying to The Master, “My wife saw the pony girls when we came in. She said she’d love to dress like them and I …”

Izabella snapped at her interfering husband, “Not the pony girls, dumb arse! The driver of the cart!” She turned back to the Master, “Where do I sign up for that job?”

The Master laughed easily. “You know I could tell you were the dominant one in your relationship the moment I saw you both.”

Thomas cleared his throat, “Well I wouldn’t say that.” He said to his wife, “But darling don’t you think the pony girls looked hot? I mean those outfits!”

The wife narrowed her eyes but maintained her gaze on the hunk of The Master, saying, “No honey. You thought that. I know how you like to dress up.”

Thomas was speechless. What? She was giving away his secret.

“Erm no, darling, no, oh I see you are having a joke.” He laughed but even to him it sounded embarrassed and forced.

Izabella lowered her voice, as if her husband couldn’t hear, “He’d love to try on one of those outfits.”

The Master pulled back his shoulders, “Is that so. Thomas! These two charming young ladies,” he indicated the statuesque black women either side of him, “I am sure will be delighted to take you to the stables. Take a look at the girls. Take a look at their outfits. And if you are brave enough, why not try one on?”

Thomas’ dick stood to attention in his jeans, so he turned half on to disguise his embarrassing erection.

“Well, Master, I mean,” Thomas, felt defensive, “I don’t know. I was rather hoping to see my wife … you know … she has amazing legs and everything.”

The Master released one of Izabella’s hands but held the other so that she was propelled to follow him as he approached and towered over Thomas.

“Don’t feel coy here, Thomas. We have open views on everyone and their predilections. If you don’t wish to try the outfits, then don’t!” He smiled, “But I have a feeling you’d love to have a close-up view of those gorgeous girls, and maybe a close look at their sexy outfits.”

“Ladies!” he said to the two statuesque women, “Why  not escort our shy boy to the stables. After all he is our guest this weekend, and we must make him as at home as possible.”

“M,M, Master,” Thomas stuttered, “There is no need, really.”

But already the two women, now wearing confident smirks were beside him. He looked at them, feeling they could be a pair of intimidating skyscrapers!

“Erm, thank you ladies, but,” Thomas began, but each powerful woman grabbed one of his bare arms and led him away from the house, back towards the long block they had passed.

Thomas looked back to see the Master run his arm around his wife’s shoulders before leading her up the steps between the pillars and in to the dark interior of the Manor.

Thomas heard the tall man say, “Izabella. Such a delightfully sensuous name. And while Thomas indulges himself, perhaps I can find a way to indulge you.”

To Thomas’ shock, his wife leaned into the embrace and giggled.

She obviously didn’t realise what The Master wanted from her, so Thomas made to twist around and snap out of the clutches of the two women. But his actions made them grip him harder and lift him up so he was now walking at pace but on his toes.

“Erm, ladies. Please. My feet are barely on the floor. I want to go back and tell me wife …”

The woman to his left simply said, “Come on.”

She spoke with such a sharp tone that he was immediately shut up. Only his erection felt natural in the circumstances, and that was growing harder.

Before him lay the block, around which were a few pony girls and more women in the driver uniform with their top hats. It was when he noticed the sexily clad French maids that he stopped struggling and with gawping eyes let the women virtually carry him to the block.

 

Chapter Nine 

 

Melissa

By Deborah Ford

 

 

Needless to say, when a tired and defeated Christian made his way to his bedroom, at the rear of the house, as instructed by his Mistress, he had to pass the master bedroom, from where he could hear both his wife and her Bull grunting and shouting in ecstasy.

He paused in his crisp maid’s outfit hearing his wife bellow her, “Yes, yes, yes”, so loud he felt certain the neighbours would hear.

The horrible lout was growling, “Come on slut!”

Torn between being offended at hearing someone take advantage of his own wife in his own bedroom, and actually wishing he could knock the door and step in to watch them, he sighed, rubbed his panties under his skirt, and moved down the corridor dejectedly.

Never had a sissy maid felt sorrier for herself.

She cursed the penis gag locked around her head and felt the full weight of the serious chastity cage the Bull had locked around his genitals. It was all so unfair.

By the time he slumped on the bed, he was close to tears.

It was then that he noticed the garments on the dressing table, with a note lying on top of them.

He recognised the apparel as nightwear he had purchased for himself some time previous. Silk, bottom hugging shorts with a delicate cut, bias camisole top. They were in ivory white, with embroided lace panels at the front, and fine edging around the straps and base of the shorts.

Sucking on his penis gag, he read the note, which was handwritten by his wife in a scrawl. Usually, she was so precise and neat in her writing. Clearly, she had other matters overloading her mind when she wrote it.

Christian felt doubly cross with the ape who kept his wife in a constant state of arousal, as he read the words:

“You must be wearing these by the time I visit you later. The key for your gag is at the bottom. And Sir says good luck with getting it off”

She had signed it Mistress.

Wow!

Like a distracted child, suddenly all his woes were in the past. He lifted up the top item, the shorts, and saw the matching bra and panties resting on the camisole top. He was to wear bra and panties beneath a delicious camisole top and the most delicate of shorts.

Raising those items, he found the tiny gold key for his penis gag.

And oh my God was it tough to push the key into the lock mechanism when the lock was firmly behind his neck. It was so frustrating! He was just about to give up and cry, when he felt it slide home. Holding his breath, he carefully twisted the key until he finally heard it spring open. Yay!

The lock came out and at long last(!), the gag could be removed from his sore mouth.

When he took hold of the camisole top and bottoms, his dick engorged in its confines, whilst blood also rushed into his head, clearing away any thinking. No maid had ever stripped quicker down to her chastity cage than Christian.

Shaking with excitement, he cleaned his teeth, to ensure there would be no marks on his bedtime outfit and peed, before washing and applying the gentle make up insisted upon by Melissa when he was in girl mode.

Once dressed, he slid into bed, as the silk just made him feel so delightfully slippery. Oh God, he needed to be released from his chastity. It would only take seconds.

Lost in his erotic thoughts, while rubbing his palms down the material, time simply disappeared into his fantasies.

So it was with a start he looked and realised Melissa was standing in the room watching him. How long had she been there?

Her blonde hair was a bird’s nest mess, her black shortie nightie, wet with sweat around her soft, swaying breasts and damp with other liquids at her crotch.

She whipped back the sheet, making Christian curl up his naked, shaved legs in embarrassment.

“Oh,” Melissa said, “Just look at my boy!”

Not daring to grab the sheets and pull them back into position, he simply lay on the bed blushing.

“Just wait until my friends see your legs!”

Christian sat up, his voice apologetic, “Mistress, I don’t really want to be seen in shorts by your friends.”

His wife sat on the bed, pushing her fingers through his gloriously feminised hair.

“Aw. Silly boy. It’s not up to you. Sir says I need to get what I want out of this. And,” she hesitated looking him straight in the eyes, “I want my friends to be shaking with jealousy at your legs, your curvy bum, your appearance and your obedience to me.”

She held him, nuzzling her cheek up against his flushed face.

To Christian she smelled of sex. The perspiration, still fresh, along with the recognizable odours from a woman after being fucked senseless.

“Mistress, I’m sure we can talk this through and find a way to give you what you want without me wearing shorts in front of people.”

She kissed his nose.

“Silly. I know which ones I’m going to buy for you. There’s these delightfully tight, black leather ones with a rear zip, from my favourite fashion shop. They are expensive, but when they see your arse in them, the expense will be worthwhile.  And there’s these pastel coloured, silk ones in a department store. My, how I’ve looked at those over the last few months and thought of you being put in them.”

“You’ve not mentioned them before Mistress.”

She shook her head, “Well I was constantly waiting for you to take the initiative, wasn’t I?” She laughed. “But not any longer. Sir, says everyone has to do the thinking for silly sissies.” She leaned so close to him, that her face was blurred, “But now I am in charge and you,” she tapped his nose with her finger, “You do as you are told.”

“Mistress. I’d love to give them a try. But just for us, not …”

“Now the trick is,” Melissa rolled gently on, no longer having to listen to her boy, “Is to buy them at least one size too small. Sometimes it is two sizes, so we are going to have a few laughs in the shops when you try them on.”

His protests stopped as soon as he opened his mouth because Melissa was on a roll now.

“Oh. Can you imagine it, boy. I now have a regular friend for shopping! Whenever I feel like shopping, I just click my fingers and you’ll come running.”

He had to get her to listen.

“Mistress!” he announced, shifting away from her. “Stop. Just take a pause. If you parade me before your friends like that, then they’ll tell someone and pretty soon everyone will know!”

Melissa stared at him blankly for a moment, as if he were stupid,  before saying, “Of course. That’s the point.”

Closing his eyes in frustration at not being understood, he felt Melissa’s arms wrap around his shoulders, and her full weight push him back on the bed.

Suddenly she was all animal. Kissing, biting and gouging at his bare shoulders.

“Tell me you love me!” She demanded, slapping his bare thigh.

“Yes, yes. Oh, God. Yes. I love you , Mistress.”

He heard a soft giggle come from miles away, as his brain floated out to sea on a wave of erotic electricity.

She bit hard into his chin, “Tell me you adore me, sissy!”

As his hips bucked uselessly up into her, speaking became harder, “Yes, Mistress. I adore you. I love you. You are my world.”

She moaned as her pussy, through her sopping panties, made contact with the minimum ridge of her boy’s chastity.

He gripped her arms, near her shoulders as his wife rode him as if he were a slut.

Then he could stand it no more.

He stopped, breathing as hard as if he had run a marathon, his eyes swimming with the start of tears.

“Mistress, please. Please unlock me. I so need to cum!”

She stopped moving, and they both lay, quite still. She stared down at her boy in need, and lightly kissed his forehead.

“Aw, boy. Sir says your behaviour hasn’t been satisfactory. Aw. Don’t look at me like that. I’m really sorry. He thought you made and served a wonderful meal though. He gave you points for that.”

His eyes were huge with bewilderment.

“But, but … Mistress …”

“Aw,” she felt so much empathy for her poor defeated boy. “And you were naughty sometimes today. I made some notes for Sir. And you were so much the brat last night. But Sir and I agree that with the right amount of direction from us, and if you try extra special hard, then you’ll be allocated an unlock time pretty soon. How does that sound?”

“An unlock time?”

His pretty pink mouth hung open trying to make sense of what she was saying.

The voice boomed from nowhere, shaking them both.

“Girl on girl sex. Love it!”

It was the horrible brute. And he was standing at the foot of the bed with a huge triumphant grin on his face.

There was a loud slap, and Christian’s wife bucked up before rising to her knees rubbing her bottom with a giggle.

“Sir!”

The so called ‘sir’ picked up a chair and brought it to one side of the bed. He was naked apart from his blue boxers and a white shirt, completely unbuttoned, showing his hairy chest.

“Ok,” he said. “Carry on!”

Christian tried to bring his thighs together from embarrassment, but Melissa was knelt between them. Obviously, his wife would tell her Bull to ‘fuck off’ and leave them to their talk and have their own fun.

Melissa giggled again. “What would Sir like to see?”

“Some fucking action, Slut. Get it down!”

Looking back at her boy while licking her lips, she ran her hands up his camisole top and leaned down so that her blond hair formed a curtain around his face.

In the sweaty darkness she pecked gently at his lips while grinding on his pantied groin, seeking out his tiny chastity cage.

Christian was horrified. How the hell could he perform for a man? A man who had been so cruel to him, who had demoted him in the eyes of his wife to a plaything of a maid.

He needed to protest but his lips parted …

His wife’s tongue entered his mouth, dominating it …

His eyes closed.

He groaned , his hips pressing into hers.

He was lost.

Then his wife groaned …

Then he took hold of her shoulders …

She took sharp hold of his arse through his silk, ivory white shorts.

They would roll one way, then the other, but always Melissa pushing back so that she was on top, fucking her very own sissy boi.

Melissa was in ecstasy. Not only was she dominating her own boi, but she was doing so in front of Sir. Letting him see how she controlled him. For all her orgasms that day, none came so powerfully, and so full bodily as this one. It was as if her world suddenly came together with a thunderclap.

She screamed her orgasm, her hip pulverising her boy, who came himself, though without any satisfaction. Just continuously pumping precum through his steel chastity cage into his panties inside the shorts.

The Mistress and boi looked at each other with love, holding their contact.

Until …

Slap!

Melissa, knelt up holding her bottom.

“Sir!” She laughed.

Sir was on his feet and Christian could finally see the size of his boner. Sir’s cock was ramrod straight in his boxers, pointing slightly upwards and not just long, but thicker than any tool Christian had ever seen.

Sir grabbed Melissa by her hair and twisted.

She screamed in pain and Christian pulled himself up, ready to protect his wife but Sir then grabbed him by the back of his hair and gave a tug.

He squealed too, which made him even more ashamed. Squealing like a girl in front of Sir! How shameful.

“Listen you two sluts,” the Bull said, gripping both his slut and his sissy by the hair, “We’re going to have a fuck session that will humiliate you both so much that neither of you’ll ever be able to mention it again. Not to anyone! When you catch sight of each other you’ll each lower your eyes with shame. You are going to perform as a pair of real sluts.”

With that he pushed Melissa over to one side of the bed, and still hanging on to Christian’s hair dragged him to the other, so that he could climb between them.

“Open your mouths into a perfect circle sluts. Both of you!”

And they did!

 

Melissa by Deborah Ford

The End.

 

C

I’m sure neither the wife or cuck would enjoy it ….

 

 

… “Oh sorry. He insisted that he takes the keys. Oh I know. Sorry. But you don’t know what he’s like when he wants something. Don’t cry. He will be around again in a few days. So you just have to ask him nicely.”