There were others out here with her. Some had already been captured and taken back to the waiting area to be claimed once the hunt was over. She’d not seen anyone for quite a while but she could hear them every now and then stepping as quietly as possible. Male and females slaves, such as herself, had been released into this wooded and meadowed area some two hours ago. Two hours of the hunt still remained. They did it for sport, the Masters and Mistresses of The Manor. It amused them and to be honest, she loved it, in a fear-filled way. It was the adult version of hide and seek only there was no home free spot and if caught they could kick and scream and try to get away as much as they wanted to. Of course, that would mean a more severe punishment once they were all back to The Manor. She didn’t want to be punished but she didn’t want to be caught either. The last slave caught was to be rewarded handsomely but the Lady of The Manor didn’t say how.

There was a sudden burst of sound and movement too close to her right. She squatted down, unsure what it was. A male slave, clad only in a lose fitting loin cloth that did little to cover much of anything, sprinted past her at top speed. He was collared but no chains on wrists or ankles hindered his attempt at escape. Close behind him a Domme in her best hunting attire ran after him. A net, a rope and a stiff looking crop smacked her in the thigh as she hastened past Rose’s hiding spot. She had gone unseen and held her breath until they were out of sight.

“Well, who have we here?” The voice was deep and sure.

Rose turned around too quickly and toppled out of the bushes protection. It was Lord Malcom, tall, dark haired and exceptionally cruel. He smiled calmly. She gave a startled scream and shot out from her hiding place as fast as she could. She didn’t get very far. With one sandal missing and the ground hazardous with broken twigs, leaves and the like she only made it about twenty yards before a heavy net crashed down on her head, pushing her to the forest floor. She tried to scramble away, tugging at the net, but only tangled herself up in it more. With a helpless little cry, Rose surrendered.

The Dom was standing right by her head now, his boot inches from her. “Care to tell me who you are?”

She thought a moment and shook her head. She could still get away. He had to get her out of this net, blindfolded and bound before he could take her back to the holding camp. She’d not tell her name until she was at the camp or until someone recognized her.

He chuckled, “It would make it easier on yourself if you'd just cooperate.” He reached down with one hand, under the net and gathered up her mess of hair into his big fist. With his other hand he moved the net away from her face. “Don’t make me have to pull you up by your hair, little one.” He tossed the rest of the netting away from her with his free hand and grabbed her bicep. “Come on, get up.”

She so wanted to run. She wanted to kick at him and bite his bare hand and twist herself out of his grip but he was so much stronger than her. She rose up reluctantly, feeling the firm hold he had on her hair. Once she was up, he let go and held both her wrists together. She twisted them a little, tugging, testing the strength behind it. He chuckled. “You aren’t going anyplace, little one.”

Before she realized it she glared at him and let out a slight growl. He just laughed at her. “When I find out who you belong to you better believe they will know what a fight you gave me.”

“I’ve given you no fight!” she blurted out and instantly regretted it.

That chuckle was maddening. “She growled and glared at me instead of just coming along quietly. That’s good enough.”

Now Rose really did want to give him a fight. If she was going to be accused of it anyway, why not really do it? Because then she be punished even more. But what if she got away? What if she could manage to outrun him yet? The thought raced through her mind just as the ropes were being tied around her wrists. He wasn’t being gentle about it either. She winced and glared at him again. The blindfold quickly slipped into place. “No more of that, little one.” He slipped a colored band around her wrist that would mark her as his capture and would earn him a prize as well.

Rose’s arms were tugged forward and he led her out of the woods and back down the hill towards the holding camp. There she would wait, bound and blindfolded until all would return. Then the real torments would begin. She felt her skin prickle under the t-shirt and her body shivered with something other than the cold.

They were crowded into a fenced in area. Bodies, mostly bare flesh, touched her on all sides in the blindfolded darkness. She was sitting on the ground, her wrists bound up slightly over her head and in front of her so she could not even try to stand. Someone, silent, was washing the cut on her shin. It was bandaged and she wanted to thank them but for some reason did not dare speak. Who was beside her? Was it a man or a woman. She couldn’t tell. Everything smelled of sweat and woods and dirt. She’d been given a drink of water as soon as she’d arrived and every once in awhile someone would come by and offer more to those who were captives. Where was her Master? He could be sitting right there in front of her, watching and she’d never know. Somehow that thought made her shudder, shudder with want for him. Would the Dom who’d caught her really tell him she’d been bad and given him a fight?

Dream A Little Dream

The women set to work for several hours before the guest of honor emerged from her bedroom. She went into an immediate tirade. Roses! Her roses were everywhere in the house, snipped from their precious vines! “I warned you!” Rosalee seethed, eyes squinting at Maggie. “I warned you.” She repeated, storming out of the dining room and into the kitchen.

“Good mornin’, Miss Rosalee.” The colored woman stood over a simmering pot of gumbo.

The sight of the stranger froze Rosalee in her tracks. “What’s good about it and who are you?”

“Jus’ helpin’ out for ya’ll’s party.”

“If it weren’t for father, I’d not have this horrible party. She’s cut the roses, that witch! She’s cut mother’s and my roses to bits!”

“ ‘An brought their beauty inside ta share with everyone.”

“You don’t understand.” Rosalee fumed.

The wooden spoon in Lottie's hand slowly stirred the bubbling, thick brew on the stove. “Oh, chile. I understan’ more than you thinks.”

The party went forward. It was too late to take back the invitations and the twelve girls arrived promptly at three in the afternoon with new dresses and new shoes and new ribbons in their hair and each with a small gift for Rosalee. While she sat at the far end of the table, refusing to eat anything served to her, the guests enjoyed Lottie’s prized gumbo and glasses of ice cold milk. Next came the cake with sweet frosting. Rosalee would not even eat that. She crossed her arms and acted more as if she were six than sixteen.

“Time to open the gifts you’ve been brought.” George tried to coax his willful child from her perch.

“I don’t want their stupid presents.”

“You shall accept them all the same and be gracious.” He hated to be firm with the child but it was finally dawning on him how ungrateful Rosalee was and always had been. “Maggie and I went to a lot of trouble so you could have this party and through a lot of money that could have been spent fixing the house.”

Rosalee’s scowl deepened as she looked at her father; he who had never raised a hand to her, who loved her without condition, who had done everything in his power to make her happy. “She’s cast her spell on you, too, I see.” The child hissed. “First that old darkie and now my own father. You’ll all pay. You’ll all see just what I can do. Mark my words and it won’t be long before you do.”

Maggie could stand by quietly no more. “You ungrateful little brat! How dare you speak to your father like that!”

Rosalee stood up from her seat, stomped over to the table and yanked the long, stemmed roses from the vase that held them. She walked around the table and one by one, threw a rose at each of her guests. “Here! Here are your thank you gifts, now go away and leave me alone! All of you, just go away!” Her high-pitched scream echoed through the house. By the time she got back to her own seat, Rosalee’s hands were bleeding, pricked twelve times over by each rose she’d yanked from the bouquet. The girls hurried for the door, all of them leaving their roses and their gifts behind. What happened next no one would have guessed. Well, maybe one. Rosalee stood at the head of the table, face red with rage, looking at her bleeding hands with utter surprise and pain. And then, without a word, fainted and fell to the floor. Maggie washed and wrapped Rosalee’s hands and George raced to get the doctor. But nothing beyond that could be done. Nothing they tried would wake her or make her stir in the slightest bit. She was not dead, she slept, the deepest and soundest sleep anyone can have this side of the grave. She was carried to her room, still in her party dress and put to bed. And there she stayed day after day, week after week, never moving, never eating, never drinking a thing and yet, somehow, never growing any less than what she had been the moment the first thorn had pricked her finger.

So much for George Emerson’s good luck.

Without his daughter, George no longer had the will to live. All his hard work and all his dreams had been for nothing. He quit his job and did nothing but sit on the front porch staring through the tangle of rose vines. Each day he grew thinner and paler and weaker until he was found dead less than six months after Rosalee’s collapse. Maggie fared no better. She had so much wanted to make things better for her husband and step-daughter and had failed miserably. She had even failed herself. The morning after her husband was put in the ground, Maggie was also found dead with her golden hair gone mysteriously white.

Lottie, as a favor to the family, had stayed on with nothing but room and board as payment until Maggie was put to rest beside her husband. On that day, the old black woman made one final trip up the stairs and into Rosalee’s bedroom. The girl practically glowed with health and vitality and looked as if she’d open her eyes any moment and smile. Lottie knew better than to think about that. Instead she rested her hands on her wide hips, pursed her lips and shook her head. “Not da chile I’d imagined you ta be. Not da flower but da thorn.” She shuffled around the bed, adjusting the layers of mosquito netting. “But what magic can do, can also be undone. Here you’s’ll stay, night an’ day ta sleep out da years until dat barb in your heart is replaced with a bloom. Away from all da world in solitude, so you’s can’t take da dreams away. Until you’s have a dream of your own ta hold.”

Lottie gave the room one final look, made sure the shutters were closed and latched and the windows, too. And when she left the room, she locked that door as well. Into every room the black woman went, closing and locking, securing that which was within until the time was right. Only God knew when that would be. Lottie figured she’d be long and cold in the grave by then. Lottie stepped carefully down the steps of the front porch and without looking back once, for she knew that would be very dangerous, she made her way down that same dirt road she’d traveled almost seventeen years before and this time, she never came back.

The roses thickened and choked out what little light the closed shutters had allowed to slip in. The abandoned plantation house miles from town quickly became the thing ghost stories are made of and a girl but the name of Rosalee, the ghost that haunted it. Of course, Rosalee was not a ghost at all. She was only sleeping after all, not dead for the dead cannot dream. For thirty years the dwelling stood by itself; untouched by anyone or anything.

The Exam

Cheesy 80’s porn music was playing on the TV. “The movie is ninety minutes long. You’ll sit here quietly and listen to it while I make some plans for our afternoon together.” He patted her knee and walked away.

The sounds swam through her mind, the images more intimate and arousing and maddening than anything she could have really watched. She was sucking his cock now. He was moaning. Then he smacked her ass again and fucked her somehow. Franny pushed back against the cushion, arching, her thighs straining to keep apart. For the next hour the movie played on. There were moments of dialogue, setting the scene for the sounds of sex and torment and pleasure. By the time the ending credit music began Franny was soaking wet and aching. The tape shut off and began to rewind itself. She was, frustrated, waiting for him to come back and release her.

Something warm and soft probed between her legs, parting her thighs more. It was her Master’s hand. “Very good.” His voice was low and controlled. “You’re all wet and ready, aren’t you?” His fingers parted her swollen lips. The inspection between her legs continued so gently that she could not cum but hard enough to keep her wet. “I took the liberty of making an appointment for you today. I felt it was time to make sure you are healthy and clean inside.”

Franny moaned, understanding exactly what he was talking about. He’d mentioned it to her in the past, saying one day he’d have to take her for the woman’s exam. He’d stay and watch and make sure she was safe but the doctor would be the one giving her the exam. After that, she’d go every year with him. He’d make the appointment and they would just go and have it done.

He was squeezing her clit tip. “My slave needs to stay healthy. I don’t want her to be sick. We’ll go for lunch afterwards, okay?” She nodded, feeling him touch her and at the same time the thought of her first ob/gyn exam with him terrified her. His hand moved away. Franny’s arms were lowered and released. The blindfold was slipped off. “Come on then. Get on your coat and let’s go.”

“Now?” she whimpered.

He pulled her over into his arms, smiling, “Yes, now. You’ll be safe. Nothing to be afraid of and I’ll be right there with you all the time.”

She nodded. What else was she to do? Her Master knew best and Master made the appointment and it was all for her own good. He’d be there and watch over it all. Franny retrieved her coat and slipped it on. “Good girl. Back seat, remember.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The ride to the appointment was quiet. Franny sat in the back seat, hands folded in her lap, knees together. Her face was pinched with unease as she watched the scenery go by. The Master was quiet, too. He’d glance every now and then in the mirror, seeing her trying to be brave. She was also petrified. As a woman, she’d been through this dozens of times on her own. As his slave she had no idea what to expect. She doubted it would be anything but routine. He saw her swallow hard as if pushing back tears but said nothing.

The house they pulled up to looked perfectly normal on the outside. Franny held her Master’s hand hard as they walked around to a side door that led to a very private medical practice. There was a waiting room, like any doctor’s office, with half a dozen chairs and copies of old magazines on a scuffed coffee table. A woman sat with her another man. He looked as uneasy as Franny did. The Dom told the receptionist who they were and then led Franny to a seat beside him. He smiled at the other woman, “Afternoon.”

“Afternoon.” She smiled at Franny who looked away.

The Master chuckled, “She’s a little nervous. Her first exam.”

“Dr. Mark is very gentle and has some wonderful items inside. She’ll be fine. You going in with her?”

“Oh yes, definitely.” He said it with a little too much enthusiasm. “What about yours? He looks a bit uncomfortable.”

The boy, who was probably about twenty-five years old, blushed. “Bowel problems,” the Domme answered briefly.

The door opened and the receptionist stuck her head out. “James?”

The Domme took the other man’s hand and they went through the door.

Her Master’s hand slipped into Franny’s “You okay?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Five minutes ticked by before they were called in. She was handed a papery smock to put on. Everything else was to go. The exam room was typical, white walls, white ceiling and a gray tile floor. A table, placed at an angle into the room, was covered with a paper sheet. Feeling more self-conscious than she had in years, Franny stripped and put on the smock while her Master watched. She sat on the edge of the table, legs swinging nervously, fingers twisting in her lap. She jumped when the door finally opened and the doctor entered. He greeted the Dom warmly, shaking his hand and all smiles before turning to his new patient. “How are you today, young lady?”

“Fine.”

“Good.” He patted her knee. “Lay back and we’ll get started.”

Franny did as she was told, her heart pounding in her ears. He scooched her down then set the dreaded stirrups into place. The doctor lifted each of her legs into their station, resting her still socked feet into the foot rests. Leaving her wide open, he rolled a heat lamp over between her legs while he first washed his hands then donned latex gloves. He removed the white paper from the tray beside his stool. On it was a tube of lubricating jelly and two metal speculums. That’s all Franny saw before turning to look at the ceiling. She could not drive the notion from her mind that her Master was sitting there, right beside Dr. Mark, watching everything. Her vagina twinged.

Dr. Mark inserted a lubed finger into her gently but deeply and pressed on her lower abdomen with his other hand. “Ovaries are nice sized, firm, very good.” His fingers slid out again. Franny moaned quietly. He reached for something else on the tray. “A little cold now and some pressure, honey.” The metal speculum was pushed in and spread open. With a series of clicks it was locked into place. He touched her knee. “Relax your knees out a little. There you go. Just relax.” He turned to the Dom. “You wanted this filmed, right?”

“Yes.”

“And a bar in place?”

“Yes.”

Franny grimaced, clenched her teeth and stared at the ceiling. The doctor pulled over a small video camera mounted on a tripod and set it up between Franny’s legs. Then, much to her surprise, put a spreader bar between her knees as well, forcing her to remain open no matter what he did. Franny could not hold back the moan that welled up in her. She shut her eyes. There was a squeaking sound. Her Master’s hands were on her shoulders. He’d moved to stand at the head of the exam table. She almost cried but wanted to be strong. She’d been so bad today, punished twice. She’d not let him down this time. A little motor started and Franny felt the doctor’s fingers on her clit. He was gently massaging it. She moaned as a rubber cup was fitted over her clit. Gentle suction kept it in place.

“Oh god,” she whispered, balling up her fists.

“That’s a good girl. Very good. Just relax.” Her Master patted her shoulders.

“We won’t let her orgasm just yet. You want a pulse or a steady pull?”

Her head rocked back and forth. This was too much for her to stand. “Oh Master, please..”

“It’s okay. You’ll be okay.” Her sounds were pitiful. “I think a pulse would be nice.”

There was a click and the suction on her clit increased before it began to milk her bud. It was so gentle, almost like someone’s lips on her down there. “Don’t cum. Not until the doctor says it's okay.” She whimpered, tried to squirm, but the spreader and stirrups held her immobile. Even her Master’s hands were holding her shoulders down.

“I’ll give her a minute to get used to that while I go check on James.”

Oh god, James! What was being done to him in some other examining room? Franny felt hot and tingly all over. The Dom’s fingers brushed her hair. “Such a good girl, Franny. You are doing this like a good slave for your Master, aren’t you?” He leaned over and kissed her cheek, whispering in her ear. “And I am so hard for you I can barely stand it myself.”

The door opened and Dr. Mark returned. He took up his station between her legs. “A little more cold, young lady. Now relax.”

Franny hissed through her teeth as cold was inserted into the spread opening the speculum provided. Her whole body tensed and shook. The Dom, holding her down more firmly, rubbed her shoulders. “It’s okay, just a bit of ice. It will melt. Go ahead, doctor.”

More ice was packed into her, more than she thought she could possibly endure. It was so cold it burned. She could feel handful after handful pushed up inside and then slowly melting and dripping from her. Her vagina walls began to grow numb. By the time he had emptied the bowl into her, she felt nothing. “That’s all. Nearly done.”

The little pump was clicked again, the suction on her clit intensified and the pulses quickened. She couldn’t feel her insides at all. “Oh god, Master. No more, please no more.” She begged weakly. Her clit was throbbing.

“Just relax. Let it happen to you.” Franny tried to relax but she couldn’t. She was going to burst into tears soon if it didn’t stop. “Can she cum now?” The Dom could feel her growing anxiety.

“Anytime she wants.”

Her Master leaned to her ear. “Any time, sweetie. Cum for your Master.”

Her body twitched, feeling the wet suction on her swelling button and the speculum’s cold metal steel hold her walls open. She heard his voice through the fog,“One more notch up.”

CLICK. Franny’s hips bucked hard. Her body spasmed. She panted uncontrollably through it. The cup on her clit did not slacken in the least. In fact if felt like it was growing even more intense. Once the wave of pleasure was passed, Franny felt the speculums metal jaws close and slid out of her. Still the suction pulsed and pulled her and the spreader bar remained in place between her knees. The Master kissed her forehead. “Good girl. Such a wonderful show you are giving the camera. One more for me now.” She could only moan, turning her head towards his voice. “Can you go up one more? We can get another out of her.”

CLICK! The suction was hurting her sensitive tip and the pulsing became a strong vibration. She wanted to scream but the pain turned to such intense pleasure as the second orgasm filled her that Franny couldn’t make a sound. Her body arched and jerked on the table. Her Master held her down firmly until she lay limp and spent.

The bar was removed and her legs were taken from the stirrups. “You have a very healthy and vibrant slave there.” Dr. Mark said, slipping off his gloves and tossing them into the trash can.

“We’re done. She can get dressed now if you like. If you want another appointment just give us a call and we’ll arrange something.”

“Thank you very much.”

“No problem.” The doctor left them alone.

Franny trembled all over. “Master?”

“Right here. You did great.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

He helped her get dressed. She was so weak and overwhelmed she could barely sit up. Her head was still buzzing and her cunt still leaked a faint trace of her own fluid when they finally left the building and headed to the car. Franny climbed into the back seat placidly.

“How about some lunch now?”

“Okay.”

“You pick the place.”

“I don’t care, Sir. Any place is fine.” She was gazing out the window, still dazed and what had just happened.

“How about that Chinese place?”

“Okay.”

He glanced in the rear view mirror at her. “Tell your Master something, sweet one. Did you like what just happened to you in there?”

She was quiet but he saw her nod before she said anything. “Yes, Sir.” She said it quietly and closed her eyes. A tear slid down her face. She didn’t know what was worse; enduring these things or admitting to him, and herself, that she actually enjoyed them. He’d done it again, made her submit to something she never, in a million years, would have told him she wanted. The Master knew his slave very well.

He grinned, “I’m glad, I enjoyed it a great deal too and tonight I’ll show you just how much. You made me very proud of you in there, very proud and pleased. All your naughtiness of the day has been totally forgiven.”

Hearing his pride in her, Franny smiled weakly. “Thank you, Sir.”

Ashes To Ashes

Cynthia looked across the table at the file cabinet and the bottom left hand drawer. Along with the letter, there had also been a key in the crumpled envelope. This she now took in hand, got down on her knees and twisted the key into the lock. The drawer slid open silently. There was only one thing inside, a very thick book with cracked parchment covers. It looked ancient. The metal clasps that once held it shut were dull and broken. Cynthia lifted the book carefully and placed it on the table, afraid the thing would crumble in her hands but she found it remarkably intact. She opened the cover.

“Grymoyre ov ye Margrave Wytches.” Her jaw dropped open in disbelief.

Page after page revealed its secrets to Cynthia. The seal of Astaroth and the insignias of Clauneck, Musisin and Bechard where at her fingertips. Her eyes grazed the mysteries of Goetic Theurgy and Infernal Evocation and understood only one thing; she was descended of Witches. “I implore Thee, O Thou Grand and Powerful Adonay, Master of all Spirits!” She read in a whisper. “I beseech Thee, O Eloim! I implore Thee, O Jehovah! O Grand Adonay, I give unto Thee my soul…” Cynthia slammed the book shut. These were the horrors her mother had warned her against, weren’t they? This was her father’s legacy.

With the book clasped protectively to her chest, Cynthia returned to the lower levels of the building where Mr. Roberts sat at his desk. He leaned forward casually, wincing as the chair squeaked beneath him. “Miss Margrave…”

“I wanted to know about my grandfather, about Lucius Margrave. Why was I given this instead?”

“It was Lucius’ book.”

“It tells me nothing about Lucius. I want to know about him, not this, this black magic that I don’t even believe in…” Cynthia looked Mr. Roberts in the eye. “What happened to Lucius?”

The librarian moved his hand through his thinning hair and looked nervously around the room. “He was a witch, Miss Margrave. He was accused, tried and found guilty. Then he was hung. After, his body was burned then buried behind the church, outside blessed ground.”

“Who accused him?”

“Not even your father knew that. No one knows anymore.” “What about Lucius’ children? He must have had children or I wouldn’t be here now.”

“He had a daughter. She never married but became with child some time after her father’s execution. The village elders had her shunned, turned out from the community for adultery and consorting with the Devil. They said the child was the spawn of Satan.”

“Then why didn’t they hang them, too?”

His eyes glanced at the book held so tightly to Cynthia’s breast. “Because of that. They tried to bring them to trial. Even imprisoned the mother and child. But Lucius’ power protected them. The Magistrates, they, well each was struck with horrible illness until Lucius’ daughter and grandson were released.”

“You believe all this, don’t you?”

“Your father confided many things in me.” Mr. Roberts said. “That book, it’s very powerful. I never expected to have to hand it over to a child.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Roberts, I have no intention of trying to work any of the spells inside it.”

“Nor should you. Miss Margrave, if I may add, I’d not tell your aunt or anyone in the village you are in possession of that book if I were you.”

“We’ll see about that, Mr. Roberts.” Cynthia turned her back on the stunned librarian and exited the building. Even though she had no intentions whatsoever of trying any of the incantations that now belonged to her, she could already feel the power inside her growing. Aunt Betty had already reacted enough for Cynthia to know that her aunt believed in the power of this sort of witchcraft. If Cynthia could drop just enough hints that she knew more than she actually did, maybe her aunt would treat her niece the way she deserved to be treated and not like some scullery maid.

The Master's Playroom

His was not the ordinary playroom. It was kept under lock and key and located in the basement. The Dom flipped on the switch, flooding the large room with light. An oversized rocking horse sat in the middle of the room. It wore a particularly interesting saddle. Instead of a smooth seat, this saddle offered its rider a firm, rubber dildo. The neck of the horse was broad and a pair of looped reins hung from the corners of its mouth. The stirrups looked normal until you inspected them closer and realized the rider’s ankles could be buckled and locked into them. Penny just loved that horse. Nearby and hanging from the ceiling was the swing. You lay back in it more than sat and your ankles went into another set of separate swings so they could be spread apart. There was a shelf of butt plugs and vibrators. A rack was hung with paddles of various sizes, shapes and textures. On hooks hung the floggers. A wooden chair, draped with rope stood in one corner and a spanking bench in another. Off to the left was a large, comfy chair that faced the entire room.

The Master entered the room first, holding Penny’s hand. He could feel her palm sweating already. She was likely already wet. He’d put her on the horse last, when she couldn’t stand the rest of it anymore. What first, he wondered, looking around the room. He wanted to fuck her and fuck her hard. He should have gotten the crotchless panties. That would have felt good, to feel the silk and lace under his hands as he pressed into her. But he hadn’t done that. He walked her to the swing. He had another idea. “Pull the dress up and climb in.”

It was an odd contraption but with his help she was soon in place. She still had the panties and her shoes and socks as he strapped her ankles into the smaller swings. He locked her wrist slightly over her head. He moved over to her and placed his hand suddenly over her mouth, hard. “I’m going to rape you now. You will not scream, you will not fight me and you will not cum.” He watched her eyes grow huge. “You won’t tell anyone about this or you will be punished. It won’t hurt you. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.” His other hand was rubbing her clit through the wet fabric. “You like it when I fuck you, don’t you, sweetie?”

Penny nodded and moaned.

“Good.” He pulled his hand away from her mouth and slid off the robe. He was naked beneath it. He moved his hand into her panties, feeling and probing her. Penny moaned desperately. From out of his robe pocket he pulled a small penknife and ran it over the thin fabric, just barely touching her clit with the point. Penny squirmed and gasped. “Sshh and don’t move.” He pulled the panties away from her aching hood and cut a small slit into the fabric just where her wetness leaked making it just big enough for his cock to poke through but no more.

She was panting frantically now and they’d barely begun. “You cum and there will be no horse ride and you will be punished more than you already have been.” He pulled her sundress up, exposing her breasts. She had such great breasts. The Dom filled his hands with them, kneading and squeezing, tweaking the nipples to hear her moan. He slowly began to rock the swing as he stood between her stretched legs. He’d not entered her yet but was becoming rock hard at the sight of her and the thought of it. “Does my girl like the swing? Does she like to be pushed?”

“Yesss…” She was sinking fast. The motion lulling her mind easily.

He pressed the head of his cock into the slit he’d cut. She was an inferno inside but he still did not enter fully, just yet. Penny’s back arched. “Such a wet, little slave girl.” He whispered to her. “My slave girl and no one elses.” He rocked the swing, pulling it back a bit more, feeling his full, thick cock fill her slowly. “Whose slave are you, honey? Who’s the only one who can fuck you?”

“My..Master’s slave. Oh…god..” She managed to stammer out.

“That’s right. Only your Master rapes and fucks you, ever.” He grabbed the sides of the swing and yanked it forward hard; at the same time pushing himself forward, jamming himself into her to the hilt and holding her there tight. Her hips started to pulse against him.

“No, don’t move.” He ordered. “This is Master’s pleasure, not yours.” Her insides quivered then relaxed and opened a little as she yielded. “Good girl. Just like that. Just lay there and take it. No pleasure for you, just a hard, sound fucking.”

Her head hung back. She was in her space now and all his. Soaked through, the panties rubbed his shaft ever so lightly while the swing helped move her body back and forth. He moved first in slow deep thrusts, then harder deeper ones until it was so hard and fast as to be a blur. The Dom’s cock swelled, stretching Penny’s walls apart until she almost screamed. His hot cum pumped into her as he moaned heavily. Still hard, the Master continued to rock the swing for her. Back and forth, pressing into her slowly, pulling out slowly. He pulled out all the way, the sound of her wanting deep in his ears.

With his finger he tore the fabric a little more to expose her other opening. He spread her wetness and his cum around it, pressing his fingertip up inside her hole. “Good girl, Penny. I’m going to take you in the ass now.” She moaned, beyond words at this point. He leaned into her, kissing her cheek. “Your Master loves his slave girl’s ass.” He pressed into her, feeling her start to pant again. This was always somewhat painful for her. She was so tight and seldom used back there. The head popped in, then the shaft slowly followed. A tight-lipped wail rose from her throat. “Don’t scream, baby. Don’t scream.”

Her body jerked helplessly in the swing. She was fighting it, tensing up. His thumb pressed into her clit to relax her. He didn’t dare massage it too much, only enough to get her back into her space. The Dom began to pump again, much more slowly and gently this time. The swing did the work for her, rocking, allowing him access, holding her wide open all the time. His hands rested on her hips. His member grew again, sending an ache up her back as his second load poured into her. He pulled out when it had passed, letting the swing rock her on its own for awhile.

She was like a rag doll in the swing. He pulled her dress back down before releasing her wrists and ankles from their bindings. “Ready for your horse ride?” He whispered in her ear as he lifted her off the swings seat. Penny made a sound but he wasn’t sure if it was a yes or no. Maybe she’d had enough even though she’d not cum yet. "Yes or no?”

She nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

He led her the few paces to the rocking horse and set her tenderly on the saddle. The rubber dildo pressed against her tummy. Her Master held her waist and lifted her up enough to let the false cock enter her. It slid into place easily with a long slow moan from Penny. She leaned forward, against the horses soft neck. Her feet were set into the stirrups and the restraint buckles wrapped around her ankles. Her hips were already pumping, her eyes half shut, lips parted. The Dom lifted Penny’s arms, guiding her wrists through the reins like suspension cuffs. With his foot, he set the horse into motion.

You could barely see her movements but they were enough to keep the horse in motion. It wouldn’t take long for her to cum now. His hand rested on her back, but let her set the pace. He kissed her cheek. “Cum for your Master now, my little slave. Let me see you cum.” Her body pressed against the horse harder. He stroked her back, watching her expression. The horse rocked harder and Penny with it. “Tell me what you want to do,” he coaxed.

“MMMmmmm…cummm…for my Master…..” She was bucking a little, cheeks flushed pink.

“That’s right. Come on. Cum for me. Let the pony fuck you just like your Master does.” She was grunting, gasping, very close to release. “That’s my girl. Ride it out.” Her body tensed, went into trembling spasms, kept rocking. “Don’t stop.” She moaned pitifully, the orgasm strong and deep. Her fists clenched, her toes curled and her whole body shook.

Then his hand was on her back, stroking, sliding up under the rumpled dress to touch her hot, wet back. He let her rest like that for a moment or two before releasing her and lifting her from the saddle with the greatest care. He carried her over to the big chair to cradle her gently on his lap.