Olivia, From Slaver to Ponygirl - Cover

Olivia, From Slaver to Ponygirl

Copyright© 2026 by Rose362436

Chapter 10

BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 10 - Female slavers are novelty. Olivia was one of the most feared one. How does it feel to be on the other side of the chains.

Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Coercion   NonConsensual   Reluctant   Slavery   BDSM   Humiliation   Spanking   PonyGirl   Lactation   Petting   Squirting   ENF   AI Generated  

Omar’s voice cuts through my mounting panic, speaking Common with his thick, guttural accent. “She no Olivia. She my property. I call her Pixie.” Each word lands like a hammer blow. “You touch if like. Don’t damage good. Take for registration.”

No. No no no he can’t—

Tomas’s grin becomes absolutely feral. “I like that name. Pixie. And I can touch? Well, isn’t that generous of you.”

I try to step backward, but Omar’s grip on the reins is absolute. The leather pulls taut, and the bit drives deeper into my mouth, forcing my jaw wider. I make a desperate sound around the steel—half protest, half plea—but it emerges as nothing but a wet, bestial whine.

Tomas steps closer, and his calloused hand lands on my flank like I’m a mare at auction. The touch is possessive, appraising, utterly casual. He runs his palm along my hip, down my thigh, feeling the muscle tone beneath my skin.

“Good haunches,” he says conversationally to Omar, as if I’m not even there. “Strong legs. Pixie, will carry a rider all day, I’d wager.”

The fucker is not only touching me but calling me ‘Pixie’. Fuck. In the goblin village, I was just another pony girl. No name. Or perhaps they were calling me Pixie but it did not register. Fuck they changed my name too.

His hand moves higher, cupping my breast with deliberate slowness. He weighs it in his palm, thumb brushing across my nipple and making the attached bell chime. The pony fruit heat surges through me in response, and I feel fresh wetness gathering between my legs despite the horror churning in my gut.

Stop. Please stop. Don’t touch me like—

But my body doesn’t care about my desperate internal screaming. My nipple stiffens under his touch, and Tomas notices. His grin widens.

 
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