Roger was pleased with himself. Rachael was a friend of his parents and she hadn't recognised him, which was perfect under the circumstances. The woman was playing at being a slave in Nathanial's home, and Roger had been asked to look after her. Before leaving Nathanial instructed her to obey Roger, and she had certainly played the part well as his slave. Rachael gave him a blowjob, followed by a hot sex session on the lounge carpet.
Rachael was on hands and knees cleaning up the mess they made on the antique Persian rug. He lounged back in an easy chair watching her bare ass wiggling seductively. She didn't have permission to get dressed yet, so remained naked. The older woman was tall with a trim figure, which was kept in good shape with regular exercise. Although she was Roger's parents age, she was attractive and would soon have him aroused, even after the earlier intense performance.
The haughty was she behaved with her husband at functions, meant it was impossible to imagine her playing out this sordid, secret game. He sat quietly musing over what might occur when they met at one of his parents dinner parties. He imagined her embarrassment on realizing she had pandered to the whims of a friend's son, while acting out the roll of a sex slave.
Rachael walked in from the kitchen to stand by him, dutifully awaiting instructions. He looked so young, yet curiously he had experience as a master. Discreetly looking him over she was pleased with what she saw. Acting as a young boys slave was humiliating, and she thrived on those feelings. This hunky young man had aroused and satisfied her, so there was no complaint.
Ending up here had been an accident, yet it had turned out well. A carefully arranged week, serving a stranger as his slave was supposed to be on her terms. Unfortunately the man had to break the arrangement, and passed her on to someone else. Being passed on to a stranger she hadn't investigated beforehand was dangerous. It turned out to be Nathanial who knew her, and more importantly, he knew her husband.
It was vital the dirty furtive games were kept a secret. Nathanial knew this, so she was trapped there, unable to refuse whatever he demanded. Her usual limits and game rules couldn't be enforced with the threat of her secret being revealed.
Instead of it being a horrendous experience, she found herself thriving on the humiliation, and became so aroused she enjoyed his every order, however demeaning.
Being passed on yet again, like a parcel, was demeaning. That it was to a young man half her age was all the more exciting. It was a surprise to find he was an accomplished master, and knew how to satisfy her.
As a mature woman, married to a successful diplomat, this young guy should be treating her with respect, yet she couldn't help herself obediently serving him. The sex session had been overpowering, and she still felt aroused in anticipation of what he might do to her next.
Roger looked at the time, and sighed. Nathanial's wife and daughter would arrive home soon, so it looked as though the fun was over.
"Get dressed, slave," Roger regretfully ordered.
At least he had the memory of screwing this attractive woman to look back on. He also looked forward to meeting up with her again. She was dressed as a naughty French maid, with breasts on show. With the dress high around her thighs everything else was exposed. He remembered her dressed in an expensive gown at one of his parents parties, and nearly laughed out loud.
***
Roger answered the phone connected to the estate gates. He watched an anonymous white van pull up the long driveway. The driver asked where the stables were, and Roger directed him to the back of the house. He knew they had been away for pony training, but couldn't imagine they would tolerate being delivered there. Knowing they would be pissed off, he wasn't sure if he could face them both.
They would be angry from being tricked into being sent away, where they were subjected to a demeaning few weeks of training. It wasn't his fault, yet he shared some of the blame, as it was Hollie, his slave, who set them up.
Bridget would probably save up the resentment to berate her husband, Nathanial, and give him a hard time when he arrived home. Her daughter, Angela, would probably strike out at whoever was around, and that meant him.
Emerging from the kitchen he found the guy leading a leather clad woman out of the van. The feather plumed head gear, high heeled boots, and a high stepping gait, made her look elegant. It took concentrated effort to see it was Bridget, Nathanial's wife, under the pony-girl outfit.
The woman was covered from head to foot in leather. A drool of spittle threatened to drip from the leather bit in her mouth. The hood blinkered her eyes, so she had to concentrate where she stepped, especially with knees lifted thigh high in a majestic pace. The knee length boots shaped her feet into hooves. He wondered how it was possible to stand in them, let alone take such high steps.
The guy tethered her to a ring bolt, which seemed entirely appropriate the way she looked. The tight fitting leather was shaped close to her body, hugging it between the cheeks and everywhere else. On closer examination it didn't cover her body entirely. There was a split at the crotch, leaving her sex accessible.
Reminding himself this was Angela's mother, he stopped the intimate examination. Her breasts couldn't be ignored. Every time she moved little bells rang. They were attached to the nipples, which protruded through the outfit.
It was difficult to gauge her mood, as the hood and blinkers covered most of her face.
Hearing the tinkling of bells warned him of Angela's arrival. She was dressed exactly the same as her mother, except the breasts were fully exposed. They were perched on a leather shelf, scalloped to hold them up and out. Again the nipples were adorned with bells clamped to them. They looked swollen from the grip of the metal ring, and the motion of her walk jiggling her breasts.
"The bays are clean, but they'll need hay to sleep on," the guy stated.
Roger looked around the barn with a vacant expression.
"I'm just here tonight while Nathanial's away," Roger lamely explained.
The guy huffed and puffed with annoyance. He strode over to a bale and cut the twine.
"Grab a pitch fork," he gruffly ordered, indicating another leaning against the wall.
They broke open the bales, shoving hay into two stalls. They hadn't been used for awhile, since Angela had grown out of ponies to take notice of boys.
"You'll need to strip them of those outfits and hose them down. Feed and water them, make sure they use the drain over there, and bed them down," the man informed him.
After instructions on how to remove the leather suit, he added further instructions on how to feed them. Fortunately he left feed with two bottles. He strode away, shaking his head in annoyance, and drove off. He hadn't introduce himself, or talked much at all, except on the care of pony-girls. Roger doubted the feed would be needed, as they would be more than ready for a decent meal.
As for sleeping in the barn, well, that would be out of the question. They wouldn't be happy about him stripping them out of the outfits, but it would have to be done, as it would be impossible for them to peel off the tight fitting garments. Their arms were strapped to their backs, which meant they were helpless and uncomfortable.
One, then the other, snorted like a horse, and stamped a foot for attention. Both sets of bells tinkled loudly. They were shaking their bells at him for attention. He decided to leave the bits in place until after they were freed, wanting to delay the inevitable haranguing he would receive.
He was nervous about removing the nipple clamps, but that had to be done before anything else. At last he had the outfits heaped on the floor. All they wore were the bits in their mouths with the reigns dangling. It was surprising how docile they were while he manipulated their bodies so intimately while removing the tight leather.
He left removing the bits to them, yet they made no move to pull them out of their mouths. Their arms dangled listlessly at their sides, so maybe that was why. They just nodded their heads and snorted like ponies would.
It was beginning to look as though the training had been more thorough than expected, as they were compliantly waiting for instructions. What did the guy say? Hose them down? They were sweaty from wearing the leather, so maybe he should. Leading Angela over to the grid covering a drain, she stood as though anticipating his next move.
While he unraveled a hose, she bent her legs apart and peed into the drain. It was a well practiced move, and she didn't seem embarrassed at all. Expecting her to come to her senses and rebel at any moment, he delayed pulling the trigger. She stood waiting with arms up as high as she could lift them. He sprayed the cold water over her body. Her only reaction was to turn slowly under the spray. She even separated her legs for an intimate dousing.
It was amazing that she submitted to such an indignity, yet she had. He merely glanced at her mother, for them to exchange places. It seemed this was a regular routine. He watched Bridget separate her feet and splay her legs to pee down the drain. When finished she pushed her arms out, ready to be sprayed. It seemed they couldn't lift their arms any higher, meaning they had endured having them fastened up their backs for long periods.
They were both denuded of hair, except on their heads, which had been cut short to fit under the harness and headgear. She too turned carefully to have her entire body cleansed. Her nipples were still engorged from the clamps tight grip, and they looked harder under the jet of cold water.
If they were willing to suffer this indignity then the training must have been thorough. They hadn't tried to say a word up until now, and didn't look as though they intended to. If they were willing to sleep in the stable it would allow him to play with his new slave.
A smile lit his lips at the thought of having an experienced woman on the end of his cock. She had experience and a good technique. It had been a surprise to him finding Hollie had thrived on being humiliated, and this woman was the same. If that was what she wanted, he was more than willing to satisfy her desire.
The feeding bottles were fixed to the wall in both stalls. The two pony-girls eagerly suckled on them. It was only then he realized how deviously they were designed. He watched Angela swallow the penis shaped tube, pushing her lips against a trigger to receive the liquid feed.
They were obviously ravenous, and knew what to do, which indicated that is all they had over the last few weeks. Looking them both over he considered they had lost weight. Their bodies were lean and fit from the training and not eating properly. An image came to mind of them prancing around a training yard, high stepping under the encouragement of a trainer's whip.
