The Leprechaun's Ponygirl
(F/M, nonconsensual, pony, maledom, bondage, S&M)
Copyright©2000 by S.Mariesu. All rights reserved.
The last three parts posted here with permission from S. Mariesu and Freeberry.com.

Part Two: The Choice Is Made
He swung the whip again. It sliced through the air and struck her other thigh. She gasped and lost her balance, kicking up straw and making her naked breasts bounce temptingly as she struggled to regain her foothold. He waited patiently before lashing out again. The sturdy whip made a loud smacking sound it struck her hip, and she let out another small gasp. But this time, she retained her balance.

He ambled around to her backside and swung again, striking one of her asscheeks. It flinched on impact, and she moved her hips forward in a futile attempt to escape the blow. Immediately, she lost her footing, and before she could regain it, the whip struck her other cheek. She kicked her feet frantically, trying to regain a secure stance, but the whip refused to give her a moment's rest.

It struck her one cheek, and then the other, and her body began to dance and sway. Her chestnut hair fell over her naked shoulders, as she made futile attempts to avoid the well-earned punishment from her new master. Finally, a sob escaped her lips. He moved to the front of her and delivered a perfectly placed lash to the underside of her breasts. They bounced up and down as she jumped from the impact. Another lash to her perfect breasts forced another sob from her quivering, wet lips. After third blow to the same spot, she shrieked. After the fourth blow, she began, at last, to beg. "Please," she moaned. "I'll do anything you want. Pleeeeease."

The Leprechaun took two steps back and reviewed her progress. The bright angry marks covered her naked body, and her face was covered with tears. Perhaps his pretty pony would behave today after all.

"Do you know what I expect of you?" he asked.

"I don't know!" she moaned. "I'll do anything. Please."

"Will you be a good pony?" he asked.

"I don't know what you mean!" she wailed.

"Then this should be interesting," he mused. "Are you ready to find out, or would you like to be whipped some more?"

"No," she blurted out. "Please."

"Good," he said and smiled. To her relief, he let the whip fall drop to the ground and turned toward the wall, where a hose lay in the straw, attached to a rusty faucet. With a couple of twists, water burst forth, and he tested the temperature as it rushed over his strong hand.

"A little chilly," he said. "But I think the cold agrees with you." His green eyes lingered on her nipples and Vanessa fought the urge to lunge for him. Some day, she decided, she would kill him, slowly and surely. Her plans for revenge were interrupted, however, as the water hit her naked body with a splash. She gasped and shivered the cold liquid assaulted her.

As he held the hose casually in his strong right hand, he watched the cool liquid cascade over her exposed flesh. He saw her nipples rise to the occasion and grinned broadly. What fine adornments he would place on them, he thought.

But first things first. He took out a soft brush, poured some soap onto it, and stepped forward to scrub her wet skin. She stifled sobs of indignation as the brush found every part of her, extracting newfound pain from the places singed by her new master's whip.

"A clean pony is a happy pony," he mused lightly as he scrubbed her naked body from head to toe. Finally, he stepped back, only to return with two sturdy blocks of wood, which he placed on either side of her. "Put one foot on each of these," he ordered. Afraid to disobey, she stepped slowly up and noticed they were placed terribly wide apart. But dutifully, she opened her legs impossibly wide and balanced herself on the sturdy blocks. Thankfully, this gave her some slack in the chains binding her wrists, easing some of the stiffness in her chaffed wrists and sore shoulders.

But when she saw the razor in his hand, she panicked and began to move her legs closer together. He pushed her thighs wider apart. "If you're very still, I won't cut you," he warned. "But it's up to you."

Vanessa willed herself to remain still as he lathered her well-groomed pubic hair. When the lather foamed full and suds began to ease down her thighs, she felt the first stroke of the razor brushing against her most private flesh.

As the art thief shaved away her pubic hair, along with another layer of her dignity, she forced herself to remain calm. She refused to accept this as her fate, to be shaved in a stable by some madman who kept referring to her as his new pony. Just yesterday, she had been Vanessa Vance, hot on a famous art thief's trail, with two million dollars within her reach.

She kept her head and body perfectly still as the razor roamed over her lower region. With a start, she realized The Leprechaun was holding her clitoris between two fingers, moving it to one side, and then to the other, as he shaved the pubic region around it. She felt the warmth flood to her lower region, and she cursed the automatic reaction.

The Leprechaun noticed it too. "You like that, my pet?" She remained silent, and he chuckled, refining his shaving job until all the foam, along with all her pubic hair, was gone. With iron will, she stifled the shivers - both from the cold air on her damp body and from his clever massaging of her over-responsive clit.

At last, he was done. He released her clitoris, wiped a few remaining suds away with a rough towel, and stood back to admire her complete and utter nakedness. She felt a breeze brush her most private region and had never felt so exposed.

"Time for your harness," he said lightly. "Now this will be just a training harness," he explained. "You'll like your real harness much better. I ordered it especially for you. Remember that leather shop in London?" he continued. "I saw you watching me, so inconspicuously, from the café. Your timing was perfect. The leather smith and I watched you for a long time out the mirrored class as you sat looking like a tourist."

Vanessa's head reeled at the memory. Of course. The Café on Smithwick Street. She had sat there for two hours while he was in the leather goods store. She had wondered what was taking him so long. But now she knew.

The art thief continued. "Did you know they have a special back room with all sorts of toys and harnesses for pretty ponies such as yourself? The leather smith thought, due to your spirited nature, you might require a special training harness, which I wholeheartedly agreed. Would you like to see it?"

"Please," she said, keeping her voice as firm as possible. "We can work something else out. You've had your fun, but enough is enough."

The art thief called The Leprechaun threw back his head and laughed. "Enough is enough," he repeated in a jolly tone. "My Pet, the fun has barely begun. Now let me show you your training harness. I'll be interested to see what you think."

He opened a wooden case and showed her its contents. She glimpsed a tangled pile of leather and a shock of something that looked like a horsetail. He brought the box closer for her inspection, and she tried to look away, but her eyes were glued to its dreadful contents.

"Like I said," he explained. "Your real harness is much prettier. But if I know you, and I think I do, you'll require a certain amount of, let's say, encouragement, to really appreciate it. Your training harness should break you in nicely."

He set the dreadful box down in the straw and said, "Now, you may step down from those wooden blocks. The morning's wasting away, and I'll be needing a ride into the village."