Chapter 12

At first, it was obvious that Ellie was doing a good job carefully pushing the egg in and out of her puckered sphincter without breaking the outside membrane. Peter calmly guided her up and down to the floor, pushing the egg out, sucking it in, leaving it part way out, and repeating the process delicately.

Jeff encouraged her and told her how good she had done. Ellie suppressed the urge to giggle. I could tell she had underestimated this challenge.

“Okay, Dancer, suck it back in, all the way,” Jeff instructed. Peter was pleasantly surprised and proud that Jeff took over and administered the test. I couldn’t see their faces.

Ellie made it a second round with effort, and I heard her let out a tiny toot of a fart. That was an automatic disqualification in competition, and Jeff told her that.

“I didn’t know, Sir.”

“I know, and I won’t count it, but you have to learn to push it out gently without air escaping. Use your muscles to move it ever so slightly and delicately.

“Birth it like a butt baby,” Jeff laughed. Peter scolded him for not taking it seriously. When Jeff said that, I imagined a tiny egg baby being born from my daughter’s anus and had to stifle a snicker myself.

“I can tell you that wouldn’t be a disqualification but would reflect poorly on me, and that’s being an asinine groom.”

“Sorry, Master Peter!” Jeff straightened up.

Ellie made it another round, but on the third one, she pushed the egg out, and it splattered on the ground beneath her feet.

“Oh my god,” Ellie cried out at the unfairness of the situation. The tone of her voice was born of the exasperation of coming so close only to fail near the end of the test.

I found myself suppressing a smile. I really didn’t want to train for five to six hours every day or eat warm and cold feed twice a day. I felt guilty that I was happy my daughter had failed the test.

“It’s okay, Dancer. Vixen couldn’t pass this test right away, either. It’s something to aspire to, and when you pass, I’ll keep my word and extend your training hours.”

“When can I take it again? Can I stand?” Dancer was full of questions and disbelief that she could have failed the test.

Peter scolded her for jibber-jabbering and told her she could stand after she calmed down. “You aren’t in pony mode any longer. I just wanted to give you the test, but don’t drive me crazy with endless questions.”

I waited for permission to stand, and it never came. I remained stoically, holding the egg in my mouth for about three minutes while Peter and Jeff talked to Ellie.

“You did really well for your first time, and you show promise. I didn’t expect you to do that well.”

“You knew I would fail. You could have promised 24 hours a day of training because you knew I couldn’t pass,” Ellie frowned at her father. She didn’t bother getting dressed.

“I did not know you would fail, and I am not prepared to train you twenty-four hours a day at home under any circumstances. You are not prepared to be trained twenty-four hours a day. You barely have your ears wet as a foal. I offered you a reasonable incentive to apply yourself, and we’ll test you again in a few days. If you pass, then we’ll increase your daily training.”

No one asked me if I minded having mine increased; in fact, my husband ignored me, waiting with the egg still clutched in my teeth like Charlotte, the spider from Charlotte’s Web. I probably didn’t mind, but I wasn’t looking forward to two disgusting meals.

“Let me take it again, Daddy! I’ll pass,” Ellie begged as she stood there flat-footed and nude.

“No, it doesn’t work like that. I’ve evaluated you, and you do not dictate when you are evaluated. You haven’t learned that by now?”

“I have, and I am sorry. I didn’t know what the test really was.”

“You watched me administer it on your mother. Vixen, stand up, please.”

I was surprised that my husband said please. He seldom ever did that when I was in pony mode.

“Get down on your hands and knees and eat that egg you dropped off the floor!” Jeff insisted that his sister clean up her mess with her mouth.

“Jeff, your sister completed her test, and she failed. You don’t have to degrade her.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll eat the feed twice a day, too!” Ellie was already on her hands and knees just as I stood up with the egg clutched in my mouth.

Peter insisted that Ellie stand up just as her tongue began to clean the fallen egg from the floor. He helped her up. “You have had feed, what, twice? You have no idea how difficult it is going to be and whether or not a diet of oats is going to agree with your digestive tract.”

My husband turned to me and told me to clean up the mess and said that I could either eat the egg or throw it away. I took it out of my mouth and considered it for a moment before tossing it in the bin along with the broken, hard-boiled egg that my daughter had dropped.

Ellie was already dressed by the time that I cleaned up the mess.

That evening was a little awkward because Jeff kept alluding to having eggs for dinner and making wisecracks about how I used to hide eggs from when he was little for Easter. “Be honest, did you lay them in the backyard the night before?” he teased.

Peter let him have a little fun, and I joked back that he should have checked the chocolate eggs a little more closely if that were the case.

I went grocery shopping that evening and took Ellie with me. She wanted to wear her pony boots, and Peter didn’t seem to mind. She didn’t dress as provocatively as she had for the hardware store, but I think she wanted to.

“What’s it like being fucked by total strangers that you don’t know?” she asked as we rode together.

“Your father doesn’t want us talking about training during normal hours,” I reminded her as I kept my eyes on the road.

“He’s not here, and this isn’t training. This was outside of training.”

“I knew one of them from before, and it’s kind of impersonal.”

“Why does Dad loan you out to so many men?”

“He doesn’t loan me out to SO many men,” I assured her.

“I’ve seen six guys come by in a single day before,” she reminded me. I remembered the incident she was talking about, which had been two years earlier. It was somebody’s bachelor’s party or something. I never asked questions about things like that.

“Rarely,” I snickered. “I guess it makes your father feel powerful to know that men want what he has, and he has control over my pussy. I like sex, and I am insatiable, kind of like you.”

Ellie took that as a compliment. “I’ve just been so horny lately,” she admitted.

“Yes, now you understand why I get turned on so much. Your father denies me orgasms, and then I crave them. He gets me to the edge and stops, and the anticipation keeps me longing for more.”

“Seems a little cruel. Those guys weren’t up there long enough to make you anticipate much.”

“No, they weren’t,” I admitted. I assured her that I had not spoken about her training or bragged about my cage.

“I knew you were telling the truth,” she admitted.

“You didn’t look like it when your dad accused me of trying to get the guys hot by talking about you.”

Ellie smiled and grew silent for a moment. I turned onto the highway. We’d be arriving at the Supermarket soon. “I would have liked to have been up there with you.”

“I know, and that’s not going to happen. Your dad is already doing more than he is comfortable with. Your Uncle Eddie is going to be really happy you are being trained. I am surprised your father invited him over to see you.”

“He’s known I want to be a pony since I was a little girl,” Ellie admitted. I was surprised by that, but then I realized that Ellie had often roleplayed a pony around the house. She had drawings of real ponies on her wall when she was little.

“You used to ride a small broom around and pretend you were RIDING a pony, not that you were one,” I told her what I remembered. “You were fascinated with that cartoon, My Lovely Pony.”

“My LITTLE pony,” she corrected me. “That cartoon and your training excited me; it inspired me. I wanted to be a pony! Uncle Eddie always told me that I’d make a fine pony someday.”

Her Uncle Eddie was a lascivious pervert, but he was harmless. I could picture the old pervert telling her that, but I knew he never told her she’d have clips biting into her nipples and weights hanging from her labia. He was a perv, not a creep.

My daughter confirmed that Eddie hadn’t gone into any details when she was younger. He was a well-trusted family friend, who told raunchy jokes, but he was no monster. I would never have had a second thought about him around my kids.

“Well, tomorrow, your Uncle will see you as a pony. Do you think that will be humiliating?” I asked.

“Fuck no, I am sure he’ll be proud of me! I’ll do a good job, I promise!”

“I am sure you will,” I said as I parked the car. We got out and did our shopping without talking more about the next day.

That evening, when I was with my husband, I shared that conversation with Peter. I wanted him to know about it. He didn’t seem surprised. “Eddie is an old lecherous dog, but I would never have allowed him to touch our daughter. Tomorrow, he can touch to train the two of you, but she is not to have sex with him.”

“Don’t tell me, tell Mister Jeff,” I smiled at my husband as I climbed on his hard cock, and backed into it.

“I am telling you, AND I will tell Mister Jeff,” Peter mused as he luxuriated while my pussy wrapped around his cock.

“How did you feel when he shoved that egg in your mouth?”

I had forgotten about it. I told my husband that I hadn’t minded.

“That’s not how it’s done. It could have had fecal matter on it,” he said.

“I’m no stranger to cleaning my toys, Master. It didn’t, as far as I could tell,” I assured him while I rose up and down on my husband’s cock.

“Yeah, but Ellie is new to that. He also wanted her to eat the egg she dropped off the floor.”

“I’ve eaten out of a dog dish before a time or two. I am sure Ellie would have done it.”

“It’s just kind of weird. I didn’t show him any of that, and he seems to want to make you do things that seem degrading.”

I smiled as I enjoyed the length of my Master’s penis while I soaked it with pussy juice -only half listening. “If he tells me to eat off the floor, I will tell him that isn’t in the rules.”

“I want to give him some freedom to experiment. You will inform him that Master doesn’t feed you from the floor; offer to willingly do it and let him decide,” Peter stroked my clit and mashed it while I humped his cock.

“How will I know where the line is,” I asked, wondering if that was too much freedom for a boy who had only a few weeks of dominant training.

“If it’s not going to potentially harm you, or put you in danger, or break the law, then I want you to inform him that is not part of the training but obey. I don’t want to squelch him and imprint my style on top of his.”

“Your style is very good,” I began to gyrate my hips in different directions, fucking my husband harder and harder.

“I know, but I also know how it feels to be micromanaged. Your father did that to me.”

“No, he didn’t!” I protested and almost slowed down. “He gave us lots of free time together.”

“When I was alone with him, he would scold me for doing things he wouldn’t do and insist that I do more things that worked for him.”

“He just wanted the best for me!”

“I know, and I want the best for everyone. However, as long as it’s safe, sane, and consensual, I am willing to give the boy some rope. He’ll either hang himself or pull himself up to the right level.”

“I don’t want him to hang himself!” I started to feel the quiver of a small orgasm and begged to cum.

Peter made me stop, change positions and let him fuck my ass. “I meant that metaphorically, I am not setting either of them up to fail. You thought it was fair that I gave Ellie the egg test, right?”

“Sure, but you didn’t ask me if I minded adding an hour or two to my daily training or eating mushy oats twice a day.”

“You are an experienced mare. You can handle it,” Peter slapped my tits and twisted my nipples hard from behind before pushing his cock further up my asshole and raising me up so he could take me harder.

“I can handle it, but nobody asked if I wanted that.”

“Carmen, you are supposed to set an example for our daughter. If you are going to balk if I adjust the training schedule, that’s not a very good example,” Peter became agitated with me. He was close to orgasm, and I wasn’t.

I hated hearing my real name during sex. I think he knew that.

“Honey, I will do whatever you want, but I would appreciate being consulted if you are going to increase our training hours. I have guys dropping by sometimes unannounced.”

“Who is dropping by without my permission?” Peter was close. I frigged my pussy, and tried to cum, begging as I did.

“A few guys do now and then. They know where I live and want a quickie,” I admitted while keeping pace with my husband’s thrusts.

“You text me if they show up without my permission!”

“I always do. Please, can I cum? Aieeeeeee,” I groaned in anguish as I begged for the privilege that I knew I would not be granted.

My Master yanked my hair, choked me a little, covered my nose and mouth with his hand to close off my air, and allowed me to have a brilliant orgasm while he launched his cum up my asshole.

It was perfect when we came together. I kissed him passionately.

“What was that thing with you and Jeff today when he tried to kiss you?”