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 Seven: Her First Excursion

But perhaps someone would help her, she suddenly realized. As much as she despised the thought of being seen in such a manner, the thought of rescue offered some hope. A naked, imprisoned woman was sure to attract attention, even in the most remote locations. She tried to focus on the possibility of rescue, but the art thief wouldn't let her concentrate on anything but his demands.

Snap! The riding crop offered her little rest as she struggled toward the little carriage. "Keep those knees up!" he ordered as he delivered a series of well-placed snaps to her exposed buttocks. She hopped involuntarily each time it smacked against her backside, making the bells jingle all the more as she struggled to make her new master happy. At last, they arrived at the carriage, and he positioned her in front of the clever vehicle. She stood miserably still, gasping for air, as he began hooking her up to his unusual carriage.

First, he connected the long poles attached to the front of the carriage to the strap encircling her waist. "So that's what those rings were for," she mused unhappily as he secured them firmly in place. Next, he secured a pair of thick reins to her shoulder harness and gave her shoes one final check.

"I think we're ready," he announced cheerfully. He once again gathered up the reins attached to her bit and climbed into the carriage. He was anxious for the ride to begin -- but not so anxious that he couldn't take a moment to enjoy the view.

She was a fine specimen of pony, he decided, as he drank in the sight of her long legs, tight buttocks adorned so smartly with the horsetail, and her lovely head lifted proudly by the training collar. He saw her fingers clench behind her in frustration and knew it wouldn't be easy for her to accept her fate as his ponygirl. But she should've thought of that before she sought him out, he told himself. "No mercy for the mercenaries," he chuckled quietly.

He pulled his riding whip from the carriage seat and shifted it to his strong right hand. "Heeya!" he said and gave the whip a quick snap against her buttocks. She jumped and began her slow progress forward. "Faster!" he commanded. "The day's wasting away, and we have much to do!"

Vanessa picked up the pace to a slow trot, but it wasn't fast enough. "Faster!" he commanded again, accentuating his words with another snap of the whip, and then another. She picked up the pace to a full run, making the jells jingle madly and the phallus shift back and forth, back and forth, in her tortured ass.

She ran faster and faster, trying in vain to outrun the whip that continued to snap mercilessly against her buttocks, but there was no pleasing her new master. "Lift those legs higher!" he reminded, accenting his words with a quick snap of the whip against her thighs. Screaming in frustration against the bit, she struggled to keep up the impossible pace he demanded of her.

The phallus was impossibly big, her harnesses impossibly strict, and the road impossibly long. While he sat in comfort in the smart little carriage, she worked harder than she ever had in her life, making her way along the quaint country road.

Her nostrils flared as she tried to suck in enough oxygen to power her desperate ride, and she tossed her head in defiance as her master reminded her over and over again to lift her legs, move faster, and show some spirit. Her horse shoes made a muted clopping sound against the hard dirt path, and she groaned in frustration as the ride took longer than she could have ever imagined in her worst nightmares.

At last, when they had crested a small hill, she saw a quaint little village in the distance. Surely, someone would help her, she realized. She began to move faster of her own accord, excited and now practically oblivious to the discomfort of pulling the smart little carriage and its cruel passenger.

At the outskirts of the village, she made her way along the rough cobblestone street. Her clip-clopping sound became more pronounced and drowned out the sound of the sleighbells that jingled merrily off her nipples and other harnesses. "There!" she told herself. "A group of townspeople!" Surely, they would help her.

Frantically, she made her way toward the spot where they had gathered on the outskirts of town. As she came closer, hey were alerted to her presence by the sounds of her iron horseshoes on the cobblestone. One by one, they turned to look. "Yes! Look! Look! Help me!" she silently screamed. They stopped their chatter and stared with mild curiousity as she bore down on them. With sudden horror, she realized they were smiling.

Confused, she slowed her pace, but the whip licked the backs of her legs, demanding she pick up her pace, which she did. When she had reached the little group of townspeople, the art thief pulled back on the reins, snapping her head back as he yelled "Woah!" Finally, the bells stopped jingling, and only the sounds of her labored breathing filled the air.

Then, the group of townspeople gathered around her, chattering excitedly. "Oh, a new pony!" one young man said. "She's a pretty one. Where'd you get her?"

"She came to me," the art thief explained in a jolly tone. "Seems she wanted nothing more than to be my new ponygirl." Vanessa moaned and screamed against the bit, trying to protest that she didn't want to be his pony at all, that she was his prisoner, that she had been treated horribly, that the phallus was killing her, and that she didn't want to pull any fucking carriage. But all the townspeople heard was a muffled screech of defiance.

"She's a spirited one," one man observed.

"Yes, this is her first outing. You'll be seeing plenty more of her as the summer progresses," The Leprechaun told them. "Then I'll be taking her to my estate in Westshire."

"I guess we'll just have to enjoy the view while we can," a man observed, reaching out to pat her naked rump. There would be no rescue for her, she realized in despair, as another villager reached up to flick at one of the sleigh bells adorning her nipple. It jingled gaily, and she screeched in defiance.

They laughed merrily as she fought her bindings and moaned against the bit. It was well known that many came in search of the famous art thief. And many failed. Only this time, it was Vanessa Vance, former mercenary, now simply the Leprechaun's new ponygirl.

The End