Sweetlips' body, gingered by the sun, was lithe and her lips were chapped from thirst. Her brown hair, with streaks of red and blonde throughout, had grown to reach the middle of her back. The soles of her feet were toughened from running without shoes. She had developed that faraway look in her eyes that comes from detachment. Dreams of traipsing into a coffee shop were faint snatches of memories.
The day had been another exhausting ordeal for the ponygirl, who'd been in training for weeks. She was dressed in full ponygirl tack, Although she managed to run as fast as the others, she was singled out and whipped repeatedly until she brought her knees up high and did it with grace as well. Afterwards, she was made to pull a sulky. The trainer attached one set of reigns to her nipple rings and the other set to the bit in her mouth.
At the end of the day, all the ponygirls were hosed down with cold water, then fed healthy food that was cut into small pieces. The meals, served in metal bowls, were tasty, and consisted of carrots, granola moistened with apple juice, and vitamins. At first, it was hard for Sweetlips to get used to eating with her hands tied behind her back, but, after awhile, she was too hungry to protest. In their stall, each ponygirl had a keg of water with a hose connected to it hanging near her mouth, that dispensed water if she sucked on it hard enough.
Sweetlips was roused from a deep sleep by the clanging of keys hanging from the keeper's belt. He unlocked her bound wrists from the wall. She had expected to stay chained for the rest of the evening as usual, but somehow, this change in routine frightened her, it felt like a hand clutching at her gut. Trained to be a pleasure slave, however, outside of enduring the attention of the trainers and keepers, she had dared to hope those days were over.
Leading her with a leash, the keeper took her to a drain hole in middle of the floor and she emptied herself, splashing his feet in the process. She looked up at him and immediately knew what to do. Asking permission with her eyes, he nodded and she licked the yellow drops off his shoes. Once he was satisfied with their condition he signaled with a tug and escorted her to a special room for an attendant to prepare her for one of the members.
Sweetlips smelled ginger and oranges as she walked into the steamy, spanking clean oasis. A petite asian slave busied herself lining up bottles of oils, shampoos, and such. The name stenciled on her left breast was Miko.
For over an hour, Sweetlips was cleaned, groomed, rubbed, and oiled. Her lush hair was pulled up into a ponytail. Light make up was applied and her eyes appeared greener than ever. Lipstick completed the look. The rings in her pussy were laced together with a red silk ribbon. A little bell was attached tn her clit and tinkled when she moved. A delicate Y chain was secured to her nipple rings. Her hands were tied behind her with a strong silk rope. She felt unsecured with the rope; cuffs were as much a part of her as an arm or a leg.
Miko stepped back and clucked with approval.
"Ah, pussy drips," noted the attendant in broken English as she fingered the silken ribbon.
There was a question in Sweetlips' eyes as she looked at the attendant. The keeper walked in just in time to see the exchange.
"Blindfold," he said.
Miko nodded and handed it to the keeper who slipped it over Sweetlips' head.
"Can you see anything?" he asked.
"No sir." she said demurely.
"Follow me closely, slut." It sounded like he said it with a smirk, a look she knew all too well.
He took the delicate chain and led her like a pony into the main house. She padded carefully through the corridors, unaccustomed to the feel of the cool, polished, floor under her bare feet. As she listened to the sound of his footsteps for guidance, she lost track of the number of turns, and when they stopped, there was a light rap on a door.
"Come in." The voice was strangely familiar, and after a few long moments he said, "Over there."
Under the crossbeam with hooks, he placed her in the familiar position. Stretched upward onto her toes, classical music played in the background. Sweetlips tried to assess the situation as she hung by her wrists from the ceiling. The aroma of spicy men's cologne wafted through the air, a fan whirled overhead, and the sound of running water, a fountain perhaps, was comforting.
"Anything else, sir?" asked the keeper.
"No. Send someone with coffee at the usual time in the morning." said they mysterious guest.
Moving about the room, he gathered the toys he chose for the evening and placed them nearby. The urbane man opened a bottle of wine, poured a glass, and proffered it to girl's dry lips. Faint snapshots flitted in her head as she took a sip. Wine dribbled out of her mouth and down in between her breasts. He traced its trail with his tongue. She almost moaned, as no one had shown her any attention of this type since she'd been brought here, it was exquisitely erotic. Her pussy dripped honey down her thighs. She heard him put the glass down and felt his tongue lick a circle on her belly. He played with the little bell attached to her clit and untied the lacings with his teeth. As his teeth tugged the rings, she trembled like a skittish pony, afraid and excited at the same time.
The man spoke very little. Kneeling in front of her, he pulled on her nipple rings and lapped at the nectar between her thighs. If she wasn't bound, her body would have buckled. With her back arched like a bow and on the edge of a cum, she asked for permission.
"May I cum, sir?" she said timidly but with controlled urgency. He laughed.
"No. But you can lick yourself off of my face."
Sweetlips stretched her tongue to feel for his face as he neared closer so she could lick. Her practiced tongue washed his face like a cat cleaning her kitten. With long sweeps, she explored his nose, cheeks, and chin for that salty, tangy taste she knew to be her own, stopping only when he pulled away.
