I write BDSM erotica. Find my books on Smashwords and Amazon—I write Mf, MMf, and Ff stories with themes of BDSM, power exchange, humiliation, objectification, discipline, consensual non-consent, and other kinky things. My stories are strictly NSWF and 18+ and are fantasy only.
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Website: @eunbound for where you can find me
The season was shifting into fall, and the weather was getting colder. Inside the barn, she was kept warm under the heat lamps. And when she was outside, she was either being exercised or being used as a plough horse, sweat pouring off her body. When she wasn't gagged - rare, that - her breath fogged the crisp air.
That afternoon, the cold weather came with a brisk wind, which stole into the barn and swung the door to her stall. That's when she realized that he hadn't latched it. Like he always did, like he was always so careful to do.
There wasn't a lock on the stall door. Just a basic latch. So simple, yet so out of her reach. Impossible for an animal to use, and an animal was what she was. She was always restrained inside her stall, and that afternoon was no different except the stall was unlatched.
Without thinking, she rolled off the mattress and onto her feet. Marveling that he hadn't chained her to the stall or restrained her legs. She was so used to the hobble or the spreader, being chained or strapped into the rig. She was gagged and her wrists were tied behind her back, but this was as much liberty as she'd had in months.
She charged through the stall door. Dumb, that. In case he was inside the barn. But she didn't think he was; she knew when he was near.
Sliding open the barn door required some pushing with her shoulder, but she did it, got an opening big enough for her to slip through.
It was farmland and woods all around. She'd been whipped to run all through the property, pulling the plough or cart. There wasn't a house for miles.
She shivered and made for the woods. She could run, now, thanks to him. Thanks to her training. And she could run with her arms behind her back, even without some rig serving as a counterbalance behind her.
It was easier to run without the belt that she'd worn in, without the plug and dildo shifting inside her. Without heavy bells swinging from her tits, her nipples crushed between steel teeth. Easier without having the posture collar and the waist cincher that compressed her breath.
So much easier to run without the decorative jewelry that he fitted over her clit, which exposed her sensitive bud to the tapping of a dangling jewel. She ran so much faster without her thighs quaking from being on the edge of orgasm.
Her breasts were swinging as she ran, and that was something to adjust to. Normally they were supported by the corset or bulging through a complex webbing of tight straps encircling her body.
She started to believe she could do it. That she was going to make it. Make it to the next farm, where she might shock an elderly couple, but they'd help her. They'd remove the gag and she would tell them everything. How she was being kept by their neighbor on the farm next door like an animal. Naked, restrained, whipped, caged, fed and watered like an animal. While being made to perform and parade and work like a fucking pony. The tail he made her wear...the fact that she hadn't seen a toilet in fucking months. The number of times he'd watched her piss in the dirt. The weekly enemas he subjected her to.
And the worst torture - doling out orgasms as a rare treat. Always teasing her and telling her she had to earn the pleasure. Failing so much more often than she succeeded. She'd been such a good fucking pony for him and it still wasn't enough. She'd gotten so damn good at servicing him with her mouth. Squeezing her pussy around his dick. Relaxing her ass for him to plunder. She made him come multiple times, every day, while her cunt seethed and throbbed.
And then she made it. Farther than she'd ever been. When she saw the yellow house and the neatly fenced-in yard, she almost stumbled.
She shouted hoarsely from behind the gag as she pounded up the porch and kicked the door.
"Whoa, honey." A male voice said in alarm. "Calm down. You're OK, you're doing just fine. Let's get this off you."
And the gag was off. Her mouth was so dry now, she couldn't speak, but a a silicone straw was being held to her lips. Instinctively, she clamped it with her teeth and sucked, gulping water down.
"I'm a doctor," the man said. "Let's have a look at you."
The rope was gone from her wrists. But then she felt something horribly familiar.
Leather cuffs around her wrists. Her arms, being pulled up over her head.
"There, there, pony. Well not a pony for much longer, isn't that right?"
Her Master stepped into the room. "She's been a good pony, but what my farm could really use these days is a cow."
"We'll get her started on that journey today."
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The season was shifting into fall, and the weather was getting colder. Inside the barn, she was kept warm under the heat lamps. And when she was outside, she was either being exercised or being used as a plough horse, sweat pouring off her body. When she wasn't gagged - rare, that - her breath fogged the crisp air.
That afternoon, the cold weather came with a brisk wind, which stole into the barn and swung the door to her stall. That's when she realized that he hadn't latched it. Like he always did, like he was always so careful to do.
There wasn't a lock on the stall door. Just a basic latch. So simple, yet so out of her reach. Impossible for an animal to use, and an animal was what she was. She was always restrained inside her stall, and that afternoon was no different except the stall was unlatched.
Without thinking, she rolled off the mattress and onto her feet. Marveling that he hadn't chained her to the stall or restrained her legs. She was so used to the hobble or the spreader, being chained or strapped into the rig. She was gagged and her wrists were tied behind her back, but this was as much liberty as she'd had in months.
She charged through the stall door. Dumb, that. In case he was inside the barn. But she didn't think he was; she knew when he was near.
Sliding open the barn door required some pushing with her shoulder, but she did it, got an opening big enough for her to slip through.
It was farmland and woods all around. She'd been whipped to run all through the property, pulling the plough or cart. There wasn't a house for miles.
She shivered and made for the woods. She could run, now, thanks to him. Thanks to her training. And she could run with her arms behind her back, even without some rig serving as a counterbalance behind her.
It was easier to run without the belt that she'd worn in, without the plug and dildo shifting inside her. Without heavy bells swinging from her tits, her nipples crushed between steel teeth. Easier without having the posture collar and the waist cincher that compressed her breath.
So much easier to run without the decorative jewelry that he fitted over her clit, which exposed her sensitive bud to the tapping of a dangling jewel. She ran so much faster without her thighs quaking from being on the edge of orgasm.
Her breasts were swinging as she ran, and that was something to adjust to. Normally they were supported by the corset or bulging through a complex webbing of tight straps encircling her body.
She started to believe she could do it. That she was going to make it. Make it to the next farm, where she might shock an elderly couple, but they'd help her. They'd remove the gag and she would tell them everything. How she was being kept by their neighbor on the farm next door like an animal. Naked, restrained, whipped, caged, fed and watered like an animal. While being made to perform and parade and work like a fucking pony. The tail he made her wear...the fact that she hadn't seen a toilet in fucking months. The number of times he'd watched her piss in the dirt. The weekly enemas he subjected her to.
And the worst torture - doling out orgasms as a rare treat. Always teasing her and telling her she had to earn the pleasure. Failing so much more often than she succeeded. She'd been such a good fucking pony for him and it still wasn't enough. She'd gotten so damn good at servicing him with her mouth. Squeezing her pussy around his dick. Relaxing her ass for him to plunder. She made him come multiple times, every day, while her cunt seethed and throbbed.
And then she made it. Farther than she'd ever been. When she saw the yellow house and the neatly fenced-in yard, she almost stumbled.
She shouted hoarsely from behind the gag as she pounded up the porch and kicked the door.
"Whoa, honey." A male voice said in alarm. "Calm down. You're OK, you're doing just fine. Let's get this off you."
And the gag was off. Her mouth was so dry now, she couldn't speak, but a a silicone straw was being held to her lips. Instinctively, she clamped it with her teeth and sucked, gulping water down.
"I'm a doctor," the man said. "Let's have a look at you."
The rope was gone from her wrists. But then she felt something horribly familiar.
Leather cuffs around her wrists. Her arms, being pulled up over her head.
"There, there, pony. Well not a pony for much longer, isn't that right?"
Her Master stepped into the room. "She's been a good pony, but what my farm could really use these days is a cow."
"We'll get her started on that journey today."