(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Monaco/Characters/Avatars/NerezaAvatar03.jpg)<br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">NEREZA FABRIZIO</span></span><br/><strong>Location:</strong>The forecourt of Casino Monte Carlo, then going into town.<br/><strong>With:</strong>Her slave, Leotie. Briefly some other ponies, Titty and Snobby.<br/><br/>As the pair of sugar-cube wielding tourists departed I walked over, leaving Leotie and Poppy at the foot of the casino steps, (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=142201.msg6530961#msg6530961) Poppy continuing to stamp her hooves, driving the wicked g-spot stimulator against her soft flesh again and again, trying to fuck herself with it.<br/><br/><strong>“James! Good afternoon, how is it going? Plenty of fares?”</strong>James, or Jimmy as he is sometimes called, is nineteen and one of Henri’s newer stable hands. He helps with training, preparing and bathing the animals, mucking out and of course, being a taxi-driver. He’s become a good driver in the last few months. I don’t pay my staff that highly but there are always more applicants to my job advertisements than I need because the perks are so good. These men are moderately low class – working class. They live in cheap apartments or boarding houses over the border in France and are of a class of person who could never afford a good quality slave, probably not even a nasty, ugly one given that they have to pay rent, plus run some kind of cheap car or motorbike to travel to work. I think with James, being so young, my animals are the only cunts he gets, so he’s always a good hard worker and tries his best. I doubt he could even dip his cock into such fine slaves anywhere else, without paying exorbitant prices like he’d have to at Richelieu’s. At night, when the animals are in their stalls, I give the male staff an hour or two to do as they wish to them, a good solid cock or two in them last thing at night helps them relax and get a good sleep. Unless some animals are on a denial punishment, I usually give Henri instructions to let the ponies and puppies cum when his workers take them, a little treat now and then keeps everybody happy.<br/><br/><strong><em>“Eet goes well, Madame, third fare today. Tourist season ees starting. The last couple just wanted me to drive them around ze marina for an hour. Easy money.”</em></strong><br/><br/><strong>“Good. Just take care of the animals. Snobby looks tired.”</strong>I went up to the harnessed pair and ran a hand over Snobby’s flank. She was an older woman, like Titty, in her early fifties. She had been the housewife of a stockbroker for years, apparently, and enjoyed moving in the social circles that a stockbroker’s wife does, but her husband had got bored, wanted a prettier, tighter, naughtier cunt to dip his cock into, like most men do, and had sold her. Because of her age and physique she had been dirt cheap but I saw the muscle structure beneath the flab and had bought her a year ago. She was now thirty pounds lighter and much fitter than she’d ever been, even in her teens, most probably. The woman was strong but still plump and she had this air of snotty disdain about her that I loved to keep reminding her of. She thought she was middle class and had these airs and graces. I adored tying her to a hitching post in the alley and leaving her on ‘full abuse’ for the afternoon, to come back and release her later, exhausted, her flesh red from spanking and with men’s cum running out of every hole.<br/><br/>She was haughty but weak-willed. A few sessions like that early in her training had broken her resistance.<br/><br/>Now though, she looked in a bad way. She was panting heavily and had a waxy sheen to her skin and grey marks under her eyes. I pulled her eyelids down, then pulled her jaws open to look down her throat. I ran my hands over her chest and stomach, flanks and back. Her heart was thumping in her chest. Moving across to Titty she too was coated with sweat and panting but she was in better condition. Even so both ponies had been worked hard.<br/><br/><strong>“James. I’m not happy. Both these animals have been worked hard. Henri can get six fares out of a pair before they become this tired. You must stop showing off to the tourists and making them gallop, especially up the hills. I know you like taking tourists around the Grand Prix Circuit but these are animals, not a Ferrari and you are not Alonso! These two need a rest. One more fare only then back to the stables! I am going to telephone Henri and tell him. If you are not back by three I will cancel your perks for two weeks. I’ll not have my expensive animals maltreated this way. They exist to earn me money, they’re worth far less if I sell them for dog food!”</strong>I was by now quite angry.<br/><br/>Talking to the casino commissioner I got her to fetch her water bottle and I fed the drinking tube from this past Titty’s and Snobby’s bits. The stuck-up French woman drank deeply and would have emptied the bottle if I hadn’t removed it. Too much fluid in her gut was as bad as too little. I got the casino girl to wipe the pair down with her cold cloth while I talked more to James, making it quite clear what I expected of him.<br/><br/>I finally left him, having made my dissatisfaction clear. I shook my head. These young boy racers, they should stick to their Renault Clios and Citroen DS3s. The tourists were no better, thinking a pony girl was like damn formula one car!<br/><br/>Back at the two horses I made a final check. Titty seemed happy, the amount of juice she was making and the way she kept flicking her tail, I knew she wasn’t too bad but with one weak horse in a team, she’d be carrying the extra load without realising it and could exhaust herself quickly once the limit was reached.<br/><br/><strong>“Good girl, Tits,”</strong>I said, laying my hands on her breasts and lifting and squeezing, thumbing her huge erect nipples, making her bells tinkle. In response to my squeezing, a few spots of milk appeared on her teats.<strong>“One more fare for you and then it’s a rest in the shade of the courtyard for a couple of hours. I’ll have Jimmy turn the sprinkler on you two for a while. A few more runs this evening when it’s cooler, then milking time. You like that, don’t you? I know. And these spectacular jugs! All the milk you give us too! Some nice hard fucking then bedtime. An easy day for you.”</strong>The sweet pony milk was a nice sideline. All the animals were on hi-concentrate Milkmaid and each produced about two litres a day. Our own pasteurization and bottling plant in the basement meant that each morning a refrigerated wagon load of milk (drawn by my own animals) went down to the wholesalers at the Centre Commercial Le Métropole for onwards distribution to many cafes and bars around the city. It was a profitable sideline but it did mean each animal had to spend an hour a day hooked up to the machines, although this time could also be spent by having them open to public service so as cash was pumped out of them at one end, cash was being pumped in (literally) at the other! A nice sleek business model could make a great deal of money from a slave, I could usually get her value back in fares, milk and sex within two years and after that it was pure profit, less the trainers and drivers wages and basic overheads like feed, equipment renewal and electricity. The Poulains was my home as well so there was no rent on the premises.<br/><br/>The real money-maker however was none of these. It was racing. Flat racing on grass and other forms of competing, such as endurance rallies, dressage and wagons on a timed circuit with turns and obstacles like gates and water splashes. There was a well-regulated sports industry that had simply not existed before the Law. Now, thousands of animals world-wide competed in many international and national events. There was big sponsorship money to be had at the highest levels and the sport had hit a niche somewhere between horseracing and car rallying with hints of an Olympic tri-athlon. Only the fittest and extremely well-trained animals could become world-famous and my little set-up was nowhere near that league. I had dreams one day of buying a prime animal and entering her in the first class competitions but ponies of that stature went for six-figure price tags. My own animals competed in several local events and each year my best ponies, Nigger and Blackie, raced in the Monte Carlo Rally, but while I had a win-some-lose-some attitude, the income from the racing of my two best animals was still greater than the taxi-fares the rest made in a year.<br/><br/>I gave Titty’s cunt a gentle fingering for a few minutes, making her stamp and whicker and flick her rump and then left her, hot and happy, to climb aboard my sulky and with a flick of the reins I was off, down the Avenues des Spélugues to Mirabeau and then right to the famous Loews Hairpin of the Grand Prix circuit. Poppy was trotting eagerly, every step ramming the g-spot exciter against her flesh and her pace became ragged as we trotted through the cool shade of the tunnel under the Centre des Congress. It was in the tunnel that Poppy whinnied happily and clearly came hard, her pleasure increased by several flicks of the coach whip against her tits. I kept up the teasing whip play against her backside, trying to sneak the tip of the whip between her wet thighs to flick up against her cunt from behind and below, a stroke requiring great skill. As we moved more slowly along Quai des États-Unis cars having to pull out and pass us, she squealed and came again, a little gusher of pony-squirt spattering the tarmac between her legs.<br/><br/>A leisurely walk along the Quai Albert 1er and up the long slope of the Avenue Le Port brought me to the Place du Canton and the Centre Commercial de Fontvieille. Here I stopped the sulky against a set of railings under some olive trees by a little park and tying off the reins to the railings I slackened Leotie’s leash so that she had ample room to get around to Poppy between the shafts.<br/><br/><strong>“I’m having my hair done. I’ll be about an hour. You will get on your knees and give Poppy some fun. After you've done that, stand up and suckle her nipples and kiss her, whatever takes your fancy.”</strong>I pulled Leotie's head back and planted a deep wet and loving kiss on her mouth, then let her go. So that the girls would not be disturbed I set both their collars to ‘not to be touched’ and left them to their afternoon’s playtime.