CHAPTER ONE - At the Top of the Hill

 

At last the waggonette with its team of human ponies reached the top of the hill. From up there you could look back down to the big house with its grounds and the belt of forest trees around it, or out across wide open countryside towards the haze of the city in the far distance. The morning was beginning to warm up, and the sun streamed down from an almost cloudless, pale blue sky.

Moline had seen the view many times before, and that wasn't the reason why he had ridden up there. More important to him were the two bra-and-pantie clad blondes running along behind the little vehicle, arms bound behind their backs, loose gags in their mouths, collars and leashes around their slender necks. He had arranged to pick the pair of them up from the rear of the big house before making his way to the hill. One of the Chinese slave-guards had handed them over, tying their leashes to a bar at the back of the waggonette so that they could run along behind. Their feet were bare on the fine gravel of the path.

At the top of the rise was a wide open area, a sort of hollow and there the Princess's architects had arranged an open-air playground for slaves and their masters and mistresses. Perhaps the hollow had once been part of some stone-age fortress. There were a few old crumbling walls up there which someone had once proclaimed to be part of a medieval castle. No-one seemed to know. All that mattered was that the site was ideal for amusing yourself with the slave-girls under a warm sun.

Moline guided the team into one of the long cages at the end of the pony-walk. There were five of these in a row, open-work arrangements of metal bars, each one capable of taking a six-slave team. Fitments inside the cages hobbled the ponies, and the waggonette locked to the pen end, preventing the girls from straying while unattended. Moline descended from the waggonette. Glancing briefly at the two blondes behind the vehicle - they quickly dropped to their knees and opened their legs wide so that he could see the white crotch of the panties drawn up tightly around their pussies and tossed back their pretty heads and thrust out their lacy-bra-covered breasts - he attended to the ponies. A loop from the top of the overhead bars fitted round each girl's neck. Pulled up tightly so that they stood up on tip-toe, the loop formed just one part of the hobble. The other part consisted of a pussy-pole set into the ground between the legs of each pony. Retracted into their seatings so that the ponies could enter the cage, the poles could be drawn up vertically. Each pony's position in the team was exactly above one of the seatings and it was a simple job for Moline to slide up the poles and insert each one straight up into the sex of the pony standing astride it. The head of the pole was formed into a thick metal, cock-shaped rod and a ratchet at the base of the vertical pole fixed the rod right up inside the girl's sex, impaling her immovably.

Moline swiftly completed the task, pushing the girls' thighs open, and parting the sex-lips and thrusting the rods deep inside the girls, so that they stood right up on tip-toe, supported only by neck-rope and pussy-pole.

There remained just one task before he could get on with amusing himself with the blondes. The tracer, Alexa, had not pulled her weight on the journey up and she had to be punished. He reached out through the cage bars and put his big hand around her throat. 'Now, you little bitch, it's time you learned your lesson. You're part of this team and you'll pull your weight every time. I've got a little momento for you, so you don't forget again.'

He went back to the waggonette and removed something from the locker under the seat. When he returned Alexa was trembling with fear. He shook out the object in his hand and held it out in front of her eyes between the bars of the cage. 'You'll wear this on the way back, and for the rest of the day. Then, bitch, maybe you'll remember.' Alexa, unable to move, stared through the wires of her muzzle, her eyes wide and full of terror. She gasped. She recognised the device Moline was holding. She had worn one once before.

It was black and made of glossy leather, a simple half- cup bra that fitted under the breasts and supported them, leaving the nipples free. But sewn into the inside of each cup were hundreds of tiny points, long enough to prick the tender skin of her full bosom each time she moved.

Moline reached through the cage bars and unclipped Alexa's nipples with the key he carried, parting the breasts. That at least was a little relief for the girl. But now he wrapped the bra around her chest, and threaded the straps under her bound arms and behind the back bar of the harness and fastened it. Then he slid it upwards so that it cupped her breasts in its fierce embrace. She screeched aloud when the points touched her skin, then shook the whole cage with her reactions when Moline pushed the wicked bra up with his hands so that the undersides of her breasts were fully crammed inside the cups. A single halter strap went round her neck to hold the bra up firmly against her and Moline pulled this tight.

The beautiful brunette pony-girl was sobbing and moaning with the pain. How much more would it hurt when she began her homeward journey, running down the hill at full pelt, her breasts bobbing and bouncing in their fiery confinement? Moline smiled grimly, and turned his attention at last to the two blondes.

He strode to the rear of the waggonette and unhooked the two girls' leashes. The girls stood up at his command, standing close to him and looking eagerly into his eyes. His cock was standing thick and aroused, projecting rigidly from the open front of his jodhpurs. Punishing Alexa must have excited him more than he thought.

And then, a movement seen in the corner of his eye attracted his attention and, looking down towards the big house he caught sight of a pony-team leaving the stables and making its way along the pony-drome in his direction. The team were blondes, with red-harness and there were two occupants in the waggonette. He narrowed his eyes and shaded the sun with his hand. Two women. He grunted and turned back to his charges, leading them across to the centre of the wide grass- covered hollow.

They were Lynsey and Laura, the two blondes. Lynsey was a little taller and Laura a little rounder, but really they were a well-matched pair. Moline had chosen them from the slave-coops down in the cellars the evening before and they were glad to be out in the air. Laura was a bright girl, actually very intelligent - she had once been destined for an academic career but the Princess's agents had decided her body was too good to miss, so now she was a mere slave, her cleverness devoted solely to making herself more desirable. Her light blonde hair tumbled down over her shoulders in long loose curls and her big blue eyes seemed always to gaze wistfully around her, yearning for something which she could never find. She walked with a loose-limbed, easy stride, in spite of her bound arms.

Her companion, Lynsey, came from a good family. Not nearly so bright as Laura, yet she had a high-spirited nature, and her body almost vibrated with a tense, nervous sort of energy which Moline found exciting. Her richer blonde hair was short, cut above shoulder length, combed across her forehead, ending in a tease of fluffy curls which bounced as she walked. Her eyes, slanted and dazzlingly intense, gazed out at you frankly, waiting for some action, always ready to give her best - which was only to be expected of a slave of the Princess, of course.

Moline noticed that the waistband of the little white panties encircling her soft tummy was threaded with pink, while Laura's tight little panties had a blue line woven into the lace. Not that he intended either to wear them any longer than necessary. He stopped in the middle of the dip and turned. The grass was wet and the girls' bare feet glistened with the dew. He reached down and ran his hands over the front panel of their panties, enjoying the smooth fabric and the feel of the crinkly hair beneath it. The girls parted their thighs wide, looking up at him over their loose-gags as they did so, their eyes gleaming. He felt between their legs, the dampness of their pussies and he smiled sardonically. 'Off with the panties, girls,' he said. 'No time to lose.'

Both girls found no difficulty in slipping them down, but bound as their arms were - and Moline made no move to release them -the twisting contortions of their lovely bodies was pleasant to watch. The panties fluttered to the ground, sliding down their shapely legs and each girl stepped out of the little garments and dipped quickly to the ground, twisting half-round to pick them up in their tied hands. Moline took the panties from them and checked them to make sure both girls were good and wet and ready for the games they were set to play. Then he lay both garments on the ground next to each other, before leading the two girls back to the edge of the clearing.

They looked good, the two blondes, naked except for the bras which tightly confined their bulging breasts. They stood in front of him, legs parted, the morning sun gleaming in their hair and catching the blonde bushes at the base of their bellies in its brilliant light. 'On your tummies now, girls, down on the grass, facing that way,' he ordered, pointing towards the middle of the hollow, where they had left the two little scraps of material bright white against the dark green grass.

Quickly the two blondes fell to the ground in front of him, gasping at the coldness of the wet, dewy grass on their bare stomachs. Deliberately, Moline put his foot on the small of each girl's back in turn, pushing her hard down against the damp earth. Then he knelt beside each one and bound together first her knees and then her ankles and finally her elbows, so that the girls now lay side-by-side trussed and almost unable to move. Now he took off their leashes.