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“If you so much enjoy our pony boys, I’ll take you to the stable some morning.”
Miss Luana’s voice is ominous. For some reason I don’t think I would enjoy visiting the stable.
“Pony boys are worked hard here on the Island. So when not being run they’re blindfolded and permitted to rest.”
I suppose she assumed I was curious about the blindfolds, not the fact that huge naked men were harnessed like animals.
The short path leads into another. To the left the converging path runs downhill. With the sound of waves and a view of white sand framed by trees and shrubbery arching over the way, I assume it leads to the ocean. She pulls to the right. Uphill. I follow. I have no choice.
“You’ll also be worked hard here. It’s part of the process...mental and physical capitulation. We will completely break your spirit...then restore it...altered. That’s what we do here.”
I remain silent. I have no motivation to speak. It’s the drug. I seem to know it but do not fully understand its effect. Miss Luana does. She doesn’t seem to expect a reply nor does she insist on one.
Our climb ends after a few hundred yards. The path again ends by converging into another. Miss Luana pulls me to the side and stops. This wider path runs to the right and the left through thick greenery. The numerous foot prints and wheel tracks suggest it is well used.
She releases my wrists. Other than for brief periods permitted for stretching, they have been secured behind my back for days. I feel a rush of gratefulness.
“Let’s see how you do. Steady now. If you become skittish and move you could injure yourself. Bend at your knees.”
I lower myself and my athletic little handler lifts her foot, uses the top of my bent left knee and thigh as a step and then swings herself up and over me onto the saddle strapped about my waist. Her motion is swift, effortless and practiced. I have been mounted...like a beast. And though there is noticeable weight, she is straddled
and well balanced over my hips, buttocks and thighs...the largest muscles in the human body. I find the burden somewhat acceptable.
“Hold still.”
She leans forward. I am thrilled to feel the warmth of her breasts on my shoulders. My penis stirs and she must notice for she lowers her hands and works to regrip the testicle cords.
“One moment...” she purrs in my ear so closely that I feel her breath.
I had not before seen the slim bands of metal encircling her ankles. The utility of the plain strips becomes evident when she attaches the testicle cords...one to her right ankle...one to her left ankle. Then she reaches, takes the cord, which has been dangling from my nose bridle, and pulls it up and over my head.
“Do you feel well bound and controlled, Mr. Dalton?”
With her question she simultaneously parts her feet to tension the testicle cords and also pulls on the nose bridle forcing a jolt of pain to shoot through my head...never mind that she’s stretching my scrotum. With all the agony, I do not answer. Again, she does not seem to expect a reply.
“Yes, I think you do. And if you get a little feisty, there is also the crop.”
She demonstrates with a mere tap of the leather strip…this time to my right nipple. My senses are overwhelmed with a flood of nerve endings being chastised...nipples, nose and testicles. Yet...I feel my penis harden. Her weight on the saddle forces the metal attachment further into my backside. While she casually rides the devilishly curved dildo will thoroughly ream my rectum.
The utility of the mittens becomes apparent. I so much wish to stroke myself...
Chapter Thirteen
Luana
It is always a treat to mount a male for his first time. Forcing him to bear my weight, tensioning his reproductive organs with my feet, knowing that jostling the saddle deliciously pressures his prostate gland...all adds up to the ultimate in control for the Dominant female.
I pull on the left side of the nose reins, keeping the short crop in my right hand. Mr. Dalton instantly turns his head. I always like to see the panicked eyes roll in a combination of fear and disbelief. I lean and whisper in his ear.
“We’ll just walk for now. In time you’ll be trotting for me and be proud to do so.”
With my thighs wrapped around his waist, my calves and ankles touching the front of his thighs and my breasts pressed against his back, I can feel his warmth and all his muscles working for me.
“You’ll find better balance in holding your arms further out in front of you,” I suggest, the suspended male sometimes slow to realize that I have granted freedom to his long restrained hands.
With the suggested movement of his arms, he leans forward to position himself better. Eventually he will learn to carry me well bent at the waist like a sprinter leaving the starting blocks. All in time. This morning I will just enjoy the feeling of his body working under me...acclimating him to the numerous commands and the variety of ways I can control him and assuring, in his mind, that obedience is good.
I flick his left nipple with the crop.
