Olivia, From Slaver to Ponygirl - Cover

Olivia, From Slaver to Ponygirl

Copyright© 2026 by Rose362436

Chapter 25

BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 25 - 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  

My mind fractures in opposite directions. He’ll recognize me. He’ll know. Three years of partnership and he’ll see me like this—naked, bridled, brass tag through my nose like cattle. He’ll laugh. He’ll fucking laugh and tell everyone and—

But another thought cuts through the panic. Or he helps. He gets me out. He owes me that much. We’ve bled together, worked together. He wouldn’t leave me here. Would he?

I don’t know. The fact that I don’t know terrifies me more than anything that’s happened today.

Robin’s smile widens at my visible turmoil. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she says, moving toward the door. “Tomas, go fetch Sean from the stable yard. Tell him Handler Omar is completing a registration he might find ... interesting.”

Tomas grins and disappears through the door.

Omar tugs my reins gently, repositioning me to face the entrance. “Stand proper, Pixie. Guest coming.”

I can’t. I can’t let him see me like—

But my legs are already shifting into the stance. Knees slightly bent. Back arched by the arm bindings. Breasts thrust forward—so heavy now, swollen from the hormone injection, bells chiming softly with each breath. The brass tag swings from my pierced septum. Drool runs steadily down my chin.

I am the perfect image of broken livestock.

Footsteps approach outside. Male voices—Tomas laughing about something, another voice responding with gruff humor.

“—don’t see why you need me for a standard registration,” the second voice says. “I’ve got three ponies to feed and—”

The door opens.

Sean steps inside. He’s exactly as I remember—stocky build, weather-beaten face, the scar across his knuckles from that fight in Crosspoint. He’s wearing his working leathers, the kind he uses when handling difficult acquisitions.

 
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