(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>From her stables to the casino. Arriving, passing through the gambling lounge towards the sun terrace.<br/><strong>With:</strong>Her slave Leotie and Poppy, an NPC pony girl. Then passing Ricardo Reyes and Kamala.<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Monaco/Characters/NerezaFabrizio01.jpg)</div>Things were running like clockwork at the stables and kennels; my lackeys had everything in hand and so I decided to take lunch out. I could drop by Le Salon Arnoud later to have my hair done. I thought some lowlights and a general lightening might suit the hot sunny weather better. In the courtyard behind the premises that we use for exercising, a sulky was standing with one of my more experienced ponies between the shafts. She looked hot and sweaty, her bare breasts glistening with perspiration and her chest rising and falling, drawing deep breaths.<br/><br/><strong>"Is Poppy fit for a casual ride into town?"</strong>I asked Henri, my chief trainer, placing a hand under one of the pony's tits and caressing it, thumbing the nipple and making the small golden cat-bell that was attached to the ring piercing, jingle.<br/><br/><strong><em>"Oui, Madame. Of course. She has just 'ad a two-hour warm up but she is fit and in fine shape. A leetle sweat on the hide looks well, non?"</em></strong>Henri lived a few miles along the coast at Cap Martin and was my most experienced trainer. I trusted his opinions completely.<br/><br/><strong>"You are right, a little sweat... makes the ponies look so full of life, so... earthy. Give her a drink, I don't want her dehydrating, she might be out in the sun several hours. And she's drugged?"</strong>My hand continued to play with the pony. She began to pant a little and drool past her rubber-coated steel bit. She lifted a leg and stamped her hoof and shook her head, all signs that a pony was excited and in the mood.<br/><br/><strong><em>"Oui, as Madame ordered. I gave her a Venus this morning. She has been dripping nicely all through her warm up exercise, nipples like bullets, hm?"</em></strong>He grinned at me in his lopsided way as he wiped his hands on a greased rag. Henri always wiped the ponies down with sun oil as well, polishing their hides vigorously so that they didn't burn. I didn't doubt that Poppy's state of arousal wasn't only due to the drug; it was more than likely that Henri's fingers had been teasing her too.<br/><br/>Poppy was a fine animal, tall and strong, almost six feet, with good muscle tone. A solid hundred and seventy pounds of expensive, well-trained animal. I had bought her at Emperium a year ago and I think she had Russian antecedents. She had high cheekbones, Slavic eyes and powerful thighs and a mane of dark hair, thick and silky. Her hide tanned well and she had turned a superb coffee colour, making her look like a real Bay. Her nipples had been enhanced of course with a lengthy course of vacuum pumps and were now long, thick and dark. Many clients liked to bite on a good pair of organ stops so I adjusted my animal's bodies to suit their tastes. Poppy's breasts were outstanding, large and high and firm and had needed no enhancing. I never bought petite, thin, small-titted girls. They were a waste of time for pulling carts and my clients (and I) enjoyed seeing a good pair of jugs swaying and bouncing as the pony cantered along.<br/><br/>Like all my pets I had Poppy pierced thoroughly; nipple rings, a clitoris ring and two rings in each inner labia. She also had a septum ring through which a training lead rein might be attached but today she had a simple bar in there with jewelled stud ends that made it hard to see. bells hung from her nipples and her clit, as was customary for ponies. I kept all my pets sexed up with a daily dose of female Viagra. It was simply fun to have them aching for a good fucking all the time, which they never got unless as a reward for being good, or unless a client paid extra. It was a simple and effective way to engender obedience. And God help any pony or puppy who masturbated, or got another animal to eat her out. My retribution for disobedience was always severe.<br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Monaco/PonyBoots.jpg)</div>Poppy was wearing the standard hoof boots and expensive black stockings, fully-fashioned with seams. I liked my ponies to have some feminine touch at all times, to cruelly remind them they were once women. Her stockings were held up by six garters attached to the standard design 'working corset'. A lightweight fitting of supple black leather that was made for each animal and which didn't cover or protect the breasts in any way. A waist-cincher, it carried fixings to connect the shafts of the sulky, cart or buggy that the animal pulled and had a stomach panel of heavier duty leather that transferred the load of the shafts across the hips, so that when a pony walked on, the load she was hauling was powered by the full weight of her body. Some owners liked the pony to hold the shafts in her hands but I thought this gave them hints of being too human, and besides, a pony's tits looked better with her arms behind her, so all my animals had their arms bound securely together behind their backs, folded comfortably over and closed tight with a single-sleeve arm binder also in black leather.<br/><br/>Poppy wore no neck brace today and her slave collar was on show. Her bit, bridle and harness were of standard type too and she wore blinkers to stop her from being scared by traffic that got too close to the sides of the sulky. The bridle straps had a socket mounted on the top of the head and today a long two-foot ostrich feather plume in white adorned the bridle. I walked around the sulky, checking that the shafts were properly connected to the pony's corset by the snap-links and that the suspension was free and the tyres and brakes were all functioning correctly.<br/><br/>I had designed most of the vehicles my animals pulled and to reduce weight carbon fibre was used extensively in their construction. The sulky, derived from the American racing buggy with a single axle, was designed around that axle, and the largest wheel diameter that was suitable. Ours were forty-eight inch wheels, with wire spokes and racing tyres. Ideal for the streets of a hilly city and for long trips to the airport or station. From the axle assembly the twin shafts ran forwards and curved elegantly in and upwards to meet at a height and distance apart for the pony's corset connectors to be engaged. Above the axle, on lightweight leaf springs was mounted the bench seat and footboard with behind the backrest a luggage box with a lifting lid. A slender tubular frame carried a sunshade to protect the driver and passenger from the day's heat and for night driving a pair of ornate electric side lamps that showed white forwards and red to the rear could be affixed on arms that extended out from the ends of the seat. These were lit by a small battery box slung under the axle. I enjoyed going out at night in summer when the heat of the day was past but the night was fragrant with the scents of wild flowers from the mountains and the temperature was delightful. For simple fun I would sometimes take a pony who had performed well over the week out on a night run up into the hills, then mount her with a double dildo, bringing her the reward of several orgasms for her good work and obedience. Sweaty and happy, she'd then canter eagerly back into town.<br/><br/>I checked Poppy's tail, giving it a careful tugging and was happy to find it firmly held in. Poppy had been a pony long enough now that her anus had been well stretched by use and so we had fitted her with fatter and fatter plugs to keep her tail in. This one was exceptionally large, though not very long. When I first bought her, Poppy had hated anal sex or any kind of touching back there, so I had enforced a long training regime of her being fucked in the behind by the trainers every day and whipped when she cried out. I had rewarded her with orgasms when she kept quiet and given her whole days off when she began to regularly cum from being butt-fucked. These simple measures had turned her into a pony who adored being mounted in her back hole and so I knew that the fatter the butt plug, the more it stretched and hurt her, the happier and hornier she was. Poppy's tail was a long cascading flow of black hair, the same colour as on her scalp, over two feet long.<br/><br/>I completed my tour of the animal and transport and unhooked the reins from the hitching post. The reins ran to rings on the ends of the bit and a simple jerk one way or the other would command the animal to go left or right. A simple flick from the whip on her rump would get her moving and further light flicks and commands would speed her up. Stopping merely required the use of the handbrake, a verbal sound, and pulling on both reins equally.<br/><br/>At the front, Poppy's bald sex dripped with animal juice. It was running out of her, mingling with the sweat on her thighs and staining her stocking tops.<br/><br/><strong>"Henri, two thigh straps please and short chains. I'm going to spread her open."</strong>My assistant supplied two fine, narrow black leather straps, like collars for small dogs. One went around the very top of each thigh, at that sweet spot where the thigh narrows in at the sex. With these tightly buckled on I slipped the jewellery hooks on the fine chains through Poppy's inner labia rings and then pulling her wide open, attached the clasp at the other end of the little chains to one of several D rings attached to the thigh straps. Now Poppy's wet sex was spread wide open, her pinkness shining in the sun and her open hole a winking black eye. I crudely stuck a finger right in and fucked her briskly for a few seconds. She whinnied and tossed her head and flicked her hips, asking in animal-speak to be allowed to get off on the crude abuse. I laughed and drew my finger out of her, wiping it over the shiny swollen red bead of her clit, making her whine even more.<br/><br/><strong>"Not yet, my pretty. You be a good girl today and don't jerk the cart or go too fast and I'll give you a treat when we're finished. I'll have Leotie lick you until you don't know what day of the week it is. So be a good pony."</strong>Poppy whinnied again and swished her tail about in anticipation of her treat. Damn, I love abusing pretty women, turning them into horny, wanton, animals. I reached up casually and gave her fine tit a slap and then tugged on Leotie's leash. The Indian had been beside me all the time today, ever since her alarm-clock tongue had woken me up in the fashion that I like her to at seven this morning. Bathing me, dressing me, giving herself an enema and letting me watch, then cooking breakfast after she'd washed too and spending the day on hands and knees by my side, being silent and beautiful. Leotie was the only slave I ever slept with. I should really start thinking seriously about a husband but he would need to completely understand my business or be willing to learn and so far no-one had met those criteria. For the last six months Leotie had been my confidant and comfort. I had trained her as a puppy and as a pony but chose to have her in human guise most of the time because then she could enter restaurants and bars from which animals were usually banned.<br/><br/>Today she was nude except for a pair of candy-pink high heeled pumps and a tight satin waspie of the same colour, with ruffles of cute pink lace edging. As usual I had sprayed on the protective padded film to her palms, knees and the toes of her shoes so that when she crawled she wouldn't hurt herself or scuff the expensive shoes. While a nude slave excites me as much as the next owner, there is something about making them wear some vestigial clothing as a means to demean them further. I'd often have Leotie crawling around town in a garter belt and stockings and heels - and besides, pretty underwear turned me on.<br/><br/>With Poppy given a drink and with copies of that day's Corriere della Sera and Le Monde safely placed in the luggage box along with my handbag and its vital EE Licence, I pulled on Leotie's leash to encourage her up onto the seat. The soft springing of the sulky creaked a little as I climbed up too and got comfortable. With us both sat with our feet on the footboard, Henri opened the double gates that give access from the courtyard, through a short tunnel under my premises and out onto the narrow alleyway that in turn, if you swing left, opens out onto Le Rue Louis Auréglia. I loosed the reins, took the coach-whip out of its storage socket beside the seat and flicked it against Poppy's magnificent behind, a target one could hardly miss. With a short whinny she leaned forwards, applying her body weight to the hip-strap. Releasing the brake, we began to roll, Poppy's steel-shod boots ringing and clattering with echoes under the arch of the Mes Poulains Petits and then out, slowly turning left with a pull on her reins.<br/><br/>We made our way at a walk down the shaded alley, past the trendy cafes and bookshops and the less expensive boutiques, browsing tourists moving to the sides to let us past, then turned right into the traffic on Rue Louis Auréglia. Coming out from between the buildings the midday summer sunshine hit us with a wall of heat. I cracked the whip again and Poppy went smoothly into a trot and a further stinging encouragement set her up in a good steady canter, her tail swinging from side to side and (sadly hidden from the driver but appreciated by the car drivers who passed us and rubber-necked to get a good look) her big tits bouncing freely on her chest. Poppy of course was getting a nice ass-fucking from her tail with every pace and with her leaking cunt spread open and her sweating body on display I knew she loved this treatment. I applied the whip to her arse a few more times and now and again flicked it over her shoulders to bite at her breasts simply for fun and because a few red lines on a sweaty pony made her look even hotter.<br/><br/>At the traffic island at the west end of Louis Auréglia I swung the sulky left and downhill along Rue Grimaldi behind hotels and apartment blocks down the hill to Sainte Devote, made famous by it being the first turn of the Monaco Grand Prix circuit. At Sainte Devote we threaded through the cars and trucks, the drivers grinning at the sight of my semi-naked pony and then a final turn left took us up l'Avenue d'Ostende towards the Place de Casino. Up the hill I cracked the whip several times and gave Poppy loose reins. She broke into a feisty gallop and the sulky sped along, the ringing of the animal's steel hooves echoing off the buildings. I looked to my right out over the marina and the swanky yachts at anchor by the jetties.<br/><br/><strong>"I don't know if there's ever enough money to be made in renting out pony girls, Slut, but one day, somehow, I'll buy one of those. I'll retire and spend my days in the cafés and bars and sunning myself on deck with my little fucktoy to apply my sun oil. We can grow old together, a wrinkly perverted Mistress and her slave."</strong><br/><br/>I don't know that we got up l'Avenue d'Ostende as quick as Mark Webber but at the top Poppy was panting and snorting and thick strings of drool were dangling from her chin as she chewed her bit. I turned her right into the Casino gardens and a red-coated commissioner waved me down. She guided us in reverse into a parking bay beside the wide Casino steps and I stepped down, aided by her kind hand. To one side of us was some foreign sports car, Swedish possibly, and on the other side a Bentley. Between the two cars stood Poppy, quite the most alluring of the three. The commissioner wore the usual top hat and tails of the casino door-girls but under the coat just a bodice one-piece, like a swimsuit, but made of a neat, stylish maroon pin stripe material. Take off the tail coat and top hat and give her ears and white starched cuffs and stick a cute white fluffy ball on her bum she'd made a perfect bunny girl.<br/><br/>My slut climbed down on the far side and went at once down on all fours. I connected her leash again and led her towards the casino steps, giving her behind a playful spank. As the commissioner bowed again I stopped.<strong>"Get a cold wet cloth and wipe her down and also wipe all that drool off. Make sure she doesn't get to have pleasure. I'm training her in denial and if she cums while in your care I will speak to the casino management."</strong>I made that last not a request, but a clear order.<strong>"And please give her a drink. Water will do, but not too much, I don't want it slopping about in her belly on the drive back."</strong><br/><br/><strong><em>"Yes, Madame, of course Madame."</em></strong>The commissioner bowed again.<br/><br/>Entering the casino I was met by the delightful cool of air conditioning. A row of receptionists smiled at me, perhaps expecting me to buy some chips but I wasn't in the mood today. What I needed was a Martini. With my slave crawling beside me I spoke to another staff member, a waitress.<br/><br/><strong>"A table for one please, on the sun terrace, in a shady quiet corner if you have it."</strong>Carrying my bag and newspapers, I went through the main gambling lounge past the blackjack tables and roulette wheels and followed the jiggling behind of the waitress towards the rear of the large building.