Chapter 10

I cleaned my face and pussy, wiped the sweat off of my body, and locked myself into my cage. It felt a little anti-climactic to lock myself away quietly. All he said was, “I love you, Carmen,” as he turned off the light.

“I love you, Peter!” I replied in the dark.

“Oh, wait, I almost forgot something,” he said as he stumbled out of bed and over to the cage. I started to get instantly horny again because I thought he might be up for “round two” and fuck my brains out again.

He passed me a pair of handcuffs through the cage bars. “I want you to put these on behind your back, and don’t let me or Jeff catch you finger fucking yourself; that includes your ass!”

“Yes, Master,” I pouted as I snapped the cuffs on.

“You should be happy. You are Vixen in the cage. Ellie would love it if I extended her training overnight.”

“Then why don’t you, Master?” I replied politely. However, my tone was passive-aggressive, and Peter recognized it right away.

He didn’t respond to my suggestion that my daughter should be the one caged and not me, as he got back in bed.

He got comfortable in the bed and told me that he might. “She’s chomping at the bit to do more. I gave her a dose of reality tonight with backbreaking chores, pony food, and outside ablutions. We will do more when I am ready. I bought this cage for you, and you were excited when I set it up for you. We rarely ever put it to use, and now, you seem to have a reluctance to use it. Is there something you want to discuss?”

“No, Master,” I replied politely. I felt a little silly. He was right. The cage had been my idea initially. It was more about the fantasy than the reality, though. It was cramped and required me to sleep with my ass up and tits down to be able to wear the cuffs behind my back.

“You can discuss it as Carmen and not Vixen if that’s the issue.”

“It is a little humiliating for me when Jeff unlocks me, Master,” I admitted truthfully.

“I can understand that, and it will be more so when he fetches you from the stable or locks you up there. It’s a bit late for cold feet now.”

“I don’t have cold feet, Master. It’s just a little weird. It takes some getting used to.”

“Yes, for all of us. I didn’t think of Ellie as a sexual being, much less a sex puppet I would be training to pleasure my cock. I didn’t think of Jeff as a groom, either. I have to learn how to delegate to him and find the balance between micromanaging him and giving him too little direction. Tomorrow, I want you to guide him without forcing him. If he thinks you are deeply humiliated by his presence, he may be reluctant to put you through your paces.”

“I think he likes it.”

“Likes what?” Peter sat up in bed casually, and I could feel his interest rise.

I regretted saying it so bluntly. I wasn’t sure why I had done that. “I think he enjoys embarrassing me,” I explained.

“Yes, he wanted you to be exposed to the pizza delivery guy, and he wanted you to flash at the hardware store the other day. That’s why I am trying to establish boundaries so that he doesn’t push you too far.”

“I wouldn’t have minded flashing the pizza guy.”

“I am sure you would have fucked the pizza guy if I allowed it. I would have minded it, and I don’t think the pizza guy consented to any of this. Would it humiliate you if the pizza guy saw you locked up in this cage?”

“No, Sir.”

It may have been a little embarrassing, especially if the delivery guy laughed at my predicament, but overall, I was used to strangers seeing me bound or naked. I would have probably smiled; the guy would probably smile. It was kind of saucy, but I understood my husband’s desire to limit our play to the people who agreed to participate.

I could see why people fantasized about it though. The adrenaline and spontaneous feeling of someone being shocked while you are exposed.

“Then think of Jeff like the pizza guy. I’ve got to get some sleep. Is there anything that we did today, or that you have to do tomorrow that you think is a limit? Even a soft limit?”

Soft limit is a term that I’ve never really understood. Peter defines that as something you don’t want to do but will do if you are forced. I am much simpler about limits. I’ll either do it or I won’t.

“Not really, Sir.”

“Not really? Was there something that was close?”

“I am just worried that when we are not in training, Jeff will have a hard time thinking of me as anything other than a fuck sleeve and a pony?”

“You are his mom, my wife, AND A fuck sleeve and a pony when we have sessions. He’ll need to understand the distinction, and so will you.”

I agreed. Peter made it sound so easy to find a balance, and I hoped it would be.

“Tomorrow, I am going to do the egg test on you both,” Peter said ominously. I knew the egg test well, but Peter hadn’t tested me in a long time.

“Are you sure that Ellie is ready, Master?”

“I am not sure if DANCER is ready, but I need a baseline, and I wanted her to pass the egg test before I put her in the barn with the other ponies.”

I didn’t respond. He was right – it was a good test. It was something I think that my father had invented and taught my husband when we were first dating. My mother could do it, and I could do it. I was certain Ellie could do it.

Peter said he’d introduce it when he got home tomorrow.

Sleep didn’t come easy to me. I dreamt of sex parties, orgies, and bondage and woke up several times on my knees, face down, hands behind my back. I didn’t hear Peter leave for work. I wanted to be awake when he left so that I could tell him how much I love him.

I awoke when my son walked in to start my day as a pony. I usually didn’t have a set schedule like this unless we were at a campground. At home, I was usually able to take my time, and put on the dressage anytime I wanted, and take it off anytime I wanted. The only exception would be when Peter or his friend Master Eddie visited.

It was taking me some time to get used to the idea that I would receive mandatory pony training from the moment I cracked my eyes open and the next four hours. I liked to have a coffee and masturbate a little before I got started with my daughter. This was all new territory for me at home.

I had drool running down my chin from how I slept. I probably looked like a complete mess. My long black hair was tangled, and I wasn’t wearing any makeup.

“Gah, you are probably freaking out seeing me with my morning face,” I quipped as I lifted my head up and rocked back on my thighs. The cage was too small for me to sit up completely or stretch out.

I must admit that when I have time to do my hair and makeup, I feel powerful. When I have nothing on to contour and enhance my features and sweeten m complexion, I feel vulnerable and embarrassed.

“I wasn’t used to seeing you this raw, but I woke you up yesterday the same way. What’s the big deal? Jeff shrugged with a good-natured grin.

“I am just thankful that you aren’t freaking out because I look like Medusa without my makeup and morning coffee,” I teased.

“It’s Sir, Mr. Jeff, or Groom, Vixen,” Jeff frowned as he squatted down to unlock my cage.

“I thought you didn’t like it when I call you that, Sir.”

“Dancer and I had a discussion about it, and if she is putting in the effort to do this right, then I need to as well,” Jeff explained stoically. I was glad the two of them talked. “How are you going to crawl out with your hands cuffed behind you and not fall on your face?”

He had a point. The cage was so small that I had to slither out once he opened the door. “I’ll find a way,” I said as I pressed my tits into the carpet and climbed out with the strength of my legs. “I am glad you and Dancer had a chance to talk and not just fuck last night, Sir. I’ll take it seriously as well,” I promised. “I was worried it may be a little overwhelming,” I said as I offered him my wrists and lay on my tummy.

He found the handcuff key on the dresser next to my side of the bed.

“I’ve grown up with you. I know you are a little weird and out there. I knew you had a cage in your room, but not that you slept in it every night.”

“I rarely slept in it, but Master prefers you unpack me like a present every morning,” I grinned playfully as he unlocked my wrists. I took a moment to shake them to get the blood flow moving.

“Ellie, I mean Dancer is a little jealous because of all the attention I give you in the morning,” Jeff grinned as he smacked my butt and told me to stand up.

I did as I was told. I was a little incensed because I was still getting used to taking instructions from my son. He may be my groom, but I still heard my little boy’s voice whenever he spoke. He smacked ass like a man, though.

“Master wanted me to, um, well, to beg to make me masturbate at least every fifteen minutes for about three minutes, but not let me orgasm.”

“Yeah, he wants you good and horny, so you will try hard,” Jeff didn’t seem surprised. He stood there as if waiting for me to do something before adding, “So, beg?”

“Oh,” I snickered that there was no time like the present. “Did you want me to wait until you take Dancer and me outside?”

I had to pee, and I really wanted to wash up – even if it was going to be the garden hose this morning.

“I said you can beg. I didn’t say I’d allow it. Show me how you beg, Vixen,” Jeff crossed his arms like a big shot. A part of me (the mother) part wanted to smack that smug look off of his face. Instead, I politely smiled, fell to my knees, and began mewling and begging as I stroked his leg in my most convincing pout that I wanted desperately to play with myself while reassuring him I wouldn’t cum without approval.

“That’s terrible,” he laughed at me and said my reaction was so obviously fake. It was deeply degrading to be told that exposing myself in this vulnerable way didn’t seem real. I suppose I was play acting and not giving it my all. I wasn’t trying to make myself cum, and I had phoned it in a little with sounds that I knew men expected to hear from women.

He asked if that was what I did for total strangers that his father lines up for me to fuck. We had kept that part of my life secret from the kids as much as possible.

“I don’t usually have to beg them to fuck me, Sir.”

I probably didn’t have to sound like an aloof bitch when I said that, but I felt that I was not chopped liver and most men drove to my house to bang me because I was hot and a good lay.

“You beg like a porn star trying to put on a show. You should watch Dancer and take some notes. She’s very convincing,” he told me to select a butt plug and put it in my mouth. “Do you like fingering your butt?”

“I like it all, Sir.”

“Too bad,” he seemed disappointed. “Dancer gets frustrated when I make her play with her asshole, and nothing else. Finger fuck your butthole,” he told me as he picked out one of my butt plugs from the counter and put it in my mouth.

I did as I was told, and he selected a leather collar and lead for me before taking me downstairs in “Minimal Pony Gear.”

Ellie was dutifully marching in place in the living room, raising one foot up high with a bent knee before plopping it down to raise the other just as high. She had one finger in her asshole and a similar butt plug in her mouth.

Her hair was lightly braided, and she had on a collar with a small leather strap hanging between her tits that had served as her lead.

“Were you watching the stairs to see when I would come down?” He asked her as he led me down the stairs.

He implied that Ellie may have been waiting for him to emerge on the stairs to start marching.

She shook her head no and kept looking straight ahead.

“You said you would take this seriously, Dancer. If I catch you farting around when I am not in the room, I am going to open our front curtains and make you stand in the window and march for an hour. Got it?”

Peter would definitely frown upon that. It wasn’t something he would ever condone. We had a big yard, but it might be possible for a car driving past our house to see inside with the curtains drawn open.

“I don’t think your father would like that, Sir,” I said as he led me over to join my daughter and stood us side by side to march. I immediately took up the same pace and cadence as she did, raising my left leg at the same time she raised hers.

“My father isn’t here, and I am in charge, isn’t that right, Dancer?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Jeff had me there and I couldn’t argue that fact.

“Simple solution! Don’t let me catch either of you slacking off today when I am not in the room,” he said.

I wanted to warn him not to make threats that he wasn’t going to act upon, but I held my tongue.

“Master wants you to beg to masturbate in front of me, at least once every fifteen minutes, but you aren’t allowed to cum. Show Vixen how you beg,” Jeff removed his sister’s butt plug from her mouth when he gave her the instruction.

Ellie stopped marching in place and looked at him as if he was crazy for a moment, then back at me. She removed her finger from her ass. I thought she was going to tell him he’d pushed her too far. She sucked it clean and then got down on her knees and pleaded with him desperately to let her cum.

“Please, Mister Jeff, be a good brother and groom. Let me play with my titties for you. Let me touch my wet pussy? I am so horny, I want it so bad. I need a big dick, can’t you let me put on a little show for you? I can’t stand it! Fuuu---ucckkk, you control me, you own my pussy this morning, I just want to cum so bad for you, can’t I touch myself? I’ll do whatever you want. Oh, god, just thinking about it gets my rocks off.”

She was so sincere that I definitely bought it. Jeff let her continue before telling her she could finger her pussy and play with her tits for three minutes. “Don’t you dare have an orgasm! If I see you even make the face, I’ll know! You want dick?”

“Really bad!”

“You won’t get it unless you earn it. The early cunt has to wake up to get this worm,” Jeff unzipped his pants and pulled his dick out. He waved it over his sister’s head as she laid flat on the cold living room floor and opened her mouth to offer to suck it while she frigged herself.

“What are you doing? I didn’t tell you to stop!” Jeff smacked my ass with a riding crop and made me continue marching in place while fingering my asshole. I couldn’t even look down to watch Ellie’s little show. I heard her, though, and she was so convincing that it made me feel sorry for her and want to get her off.

“Please, Sir, I want to cum so badly, can’t I have a little orgasm? I just need to get off. I don’t care how! I have to have it! Right now! Inside me! I am so wet and ready for you! my pussy needs it. Fuck me with your foot if you want, I don’t care! I just want something bigger than a finger, I am desperate, Sir!”

Damn. I wanted something bigger than a finger, too! Elle’s skills as a beggar far exceeded my own. I took note of her technique. I had to WANT to get fucked more than anything and convince my son of that, and I hadn’t done that.

I played a role of a horny nympho, and that was hard to present as authentic if you are just going through the motions. My son had been right about that. I felt a little ashamed about being called out for it.

Jeff chuckled and, without any sympathy at all, abruptly made her compose herself. He made her stand next to me with her back arched, ass sticking out, tits out, chin up, shoulder’s back in the same posture that I had been holding.

He didn’t make her finger her ass, but he had us begin marching in place until he was convinced that we had the same cadence. Then he led us by the leather straps around our collars to the back porch.

I usually checked to see if the neighbors were outside before entering the backyard naked. I rarely did that when anyone was at home, either. We have a fence, but it isn’t total privacy. However, Jeff just marched us outside in the sunshine like it was not a big deal.

I felt the soft grass on my bare feet as he marched us to the center of the yard where my rose bushes grow.

Jeff spanked my bottom with his crop as he marched us into position, back-to-back, and made us stand flat-footed. Our plugs were still in our mouths, so we could only mumble while a little saliva dribbled down our chins.

“You two ponies ready to be rode hard and put away wet?” he asked.

I returned a hearty whinny in the affirmative, and so did my daughter. I could feel the warmth of her bubble butt pressed to mine.

“For the next four hours, your master has entrusted me with ownership of your tits, your clits, your naughty bits, and you belong to me, don’t you?”

What was this? This was not part of the “script.” None of my past grooms had ever done some sort of morning ritual or affirmation with me. They had me piss and shit, washed me down, and put me to work, and usually expected a blowjob when the session was over. I wondered if I should interrupt him.

I whinnied positively when Ellie did the same. I was glad my son was asserting himself. I assumed he was trying something new out, and I didn’t want to cramp his style by telling him that his father doesn’t ask questions like that. Peter wanted Jeff to develop his own style.

“That means that you will do anything your Master tells you, if I tell you, right Vixen?”

I made a ploothfth sound in the affirmative as a response. I wasn’t sure what Jeff expected from me, and I think he could see that reluctance. I was normally down for just about anything, but I wanted to be careful about agreeing to a blank check that my ass couldn’t cash for my son.

“Shake your head yes or no, Vixen,” he used the crop to move my chin from side to side and then up and down. His father had insisted that I answer more affirmatively the day before. I nodded yes.

“Good, let’s empty your piss chutes, and shit factories, so we don’t have to deal with mother nature’s calls for the next four hours. You have five minutes to squeeze cheese and piss before I hose you two down so that we can get to business.”

I almost giggled and spit out my butt plug. His father seldom spoke that crudely, and usually, it was only in frustration. I couldn’t believe my son had the audacity to talk to me that way. I think Ellie found it a little amusing as well because her butt jiggled when she heard him talk to us that way.

I kept wondering, “Who is this strangely confident and vulgar taskmaster?” as he cropped our tits and ordered us to piss and shit in front of him. I couldn’t see my daughter’s face, but I could imagine her crinkling her nose in disgust every time one of us let out an audible toot or our butts made a crackling sound as we “squeezed cheese,” as my son put it.

I shook the last turd ball free and let it drop on the sandy mud at my feet. I even had a few minutes left to spare.

“Is that it? With a butt as big as yours, Vixen, I would expect you have a lot more junk in your trunk to get out.”

I nearly laughed again but managed a straight face as I ploolthed and shook my head no. I couldn’t believe my son just told me I had a big butt. I definitely had a Puerto Rican-sized ass, and I was proud of how round it was – but I had never heard my son dare say that to me.

“Is something amusing about this, Vixen? Do you think I enjoy standing outside in the morning smelling your pony manure?”

Manure was really the proper term for it when you are at a BDSM event with pony girls.

I shook my head no, and maintained a serious expression...

“That’s strange because it’s amusing to our neighbors. Hi, Mister Johnson!” Jeff waved over at the fence on our left-hand side. “Just taking my sister and mom out for their morning crap!”

I immediately panicked as my stomach turned and filled with butterflies. I was mortified. I immediately looked over my shoulder.

Jeff corrected me with the crop by slicing into my ass with several quick strokes and warning me to keep my head straight forward until told otherwise. I realized that there was no one watching on the other side of the fence, and that had been one of Jeff’s little tests.

I stomped my foot once in frustration and neighed.

“Don’t give me attitude, Lela,” Jeff chastised me for stomping my foot and called me the pet name my husband reserved for when I act foolishly. My pussy began to drip uncontrollably – I was turned on and excited. I hadn’t expected this kind of confrontation.

I backed down completely.

“Good girl,” Jeff reached up and yanked my left nipple, gave it a hard twist, and then caressed my hair. “This is looking a little matted. You can comb it after I wash you up, or is that another of my tasks as a groom? Combing your knotted rat’s nests?”

He seemed to have no qualms about poking me, prodding me, slapping me, or touching me. I didn’t it want it to be awkward for him, but I thought he might have some reservations about touching his mother. I did the first few times I was partnered with mine even though it was entirely consensual on my part. It was just a little weird.

I’ve had grooms brush my hair before, but usually, when I was tied up, they did so only because they liked to brush women’s hair. I mumbled a response.

Jeff chided me, saying I could shake my head yes or no.

I wanted to provide some context, and I mumbled around the butt plug that I had clinched in my teeth that he could if he wanted to do it, but that usually grooms only did that when I was tied up for a long time.

“I didn’t ask for a lecture, Lela! Naughty girl! You are allowed to say yes or no, not long rants and lectures! I get enough of that from you when you are my mom!”

Ouch, that stung. I didn’t think I did that to my son. I wasn’t sure if he was teasing, but I suddenly felt uncomfortable thinking about my role as his mother.