(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 office, coming down to the courtyard.<br/><strong>With:</strong>Her slave Leotie, then meeting Titty the pony and NPC assistant Electra Beaufort.<br/><br/>It had been a profitable and very pleasant afternoon. After having my hair done I had stopped at that nice little bistro<em>Antoines</em>down at the Quai Jean-Charles Rey with Helena and Francoise, two of the club members whose ponies were currently stabled there. We chatted girl talk and drank a little too much Ricard. I had showed Leotie off to them and they’d had a fondle and a spank and then Helena had asked how good she was with her tongue so we’d retired to my place where I’d made Leotie show off her skills. Both Helena and Francoise and reached breathless orgasms on the tip of my little Pocahontas’ adept and wonderfully long tongue.<br/><br/>The girls had then gone downstairs to see their animals and get involved with some training while I had retired to my office, dealt with a few staffing and accounting issues and then reviewed some training videos. One of the newer ponies, Pussy, was not doing very well and the video showed a rather unpleasant hours brutal training. Well… unpleasant for her; delicious for me. It got me all hot and bothered and I sat back, naked below the waist, on my queening chair with the cut-out seat and ordered Leotie again to crawl under me and use her tongue, both front and back…<br/><br/>After a couple of lovely orgasms I had actually dozed off, only to awaken to the buzzing of my phone on the desk. Under me my darling Native American was still lapping slowly and gently at my sex, she had no doubt been obediently doing so while I’d slept. I glanced at my watch – for the last hour and a half. That’s a quality slave girl for you. Letting her continue to worship me and affectionately running my fingers through her hair to scritch gently at her scalp, I picked up the phone and saw it was a text from Kaelyn.<br/><br/>We’d last met a week back for lunch when she’d wanted to talk about getting some ponies for her own establishment. I had been happy to help her out although our business interests clashed on that subject. I was fine for her to have pony girls in her themed BDSM chambers as long as she was clear on me being the only pony girl taxi service in the Principality. Given that the bulk of the pony girl owners in Monaco were members of my club I was quite accepting of her idea and we parted amicably.<br/><br/>Today she had texted me saying she was attending a party tonight aboard a yacht and she wanted me to go along. She supplied the name of the yacht and the hostess and that rang bells with me. That Russian ex-athlete and oligarch’s daughter, the one who was borderline anti-slavery. I raised an eyebrow. She seemed a strange bedfellow for Kaelyn to be getting in with but no doubt it was all good networking. Someone of that level of social standing was way out of my league, usually, so this might be interesting and useful. I doubted at once that this Lisna woman would be into pony girls though; their training, body modification and conditioning was borderline brutal at times, not the sort of treatment our Muscovite princess would condone, I felt sure. I sent a brief acceptance text back and checked my watch again. Plenty of time.<br/><br/>An hour later I had enjoyed a long relaxing shower, with Leotie playing her sponge role to wonderful effect, and she’d towelled me dry and done my makeup and hair. Leotie had been expensive but her skills in hair styling, make up and couture had been worth the money in my view. A woman does love being pampered and as a personal maid went, Leotie was excellent value for money. The skills of her tongue that I had trained her in were a bonus. The bitch had a tongue like a chameleon’s. No human should have a tongue quite that long and that muscular! It drove me wild.<br/><br/>I told her to dress me in black for the evening. I didn’t want a cocktail dress as that would be too showy and a gown was completely out of the question. I didn’t want anything too casual either. I selected the silk translucent halter top with nothing under it – it gave sufficient support to my breasts though leaving them visible. Over this I shrugged my black satin bolero jacket. It closed with a single stud and strap under my bust and with its wide standing collar left exposed a lot of cleavage but nothing so tasteless as a hint of nipple.<br/><br/>The halter top and bolero left my midriff bare. A simple black lycra miniskirt, little more than a wide belt, without any underwear and a pair of black strappy tall sandals completed the look. I let Leotie bathe herself while I watched (always a wicked little pleasure of mine) and I ordered her to masturbate for me in the shower. She’d given Poppy an orgasm this afternoon, then the girls, then me… twice, so I knew she deserved some fun of her own. As she writhed and moaned under the suds and hissing water her pleasure made me get warmed up again just enough to leave me feeling “high and juicy” a zone I enjoy being in.<br/><br/>She dried herself, did her own hair and makeup and then in contrast to my outfit I told her to wear her white high heels and her white waist cincher, which I drew nice and tight to emphasize her wonderful tits and hips. I added cat-bells to her nipple rings and her clitoris hood ring and to the small white lace bands she wore at her wrists and we were good to go. I clipped a leash to her collar, spent a couple of minutes enjoying a long slow deep sensuous and very tonguey kiss with her and led her down to the courtyard.<br/><br/><div align="center"><strong>~ * * * ~</strong></div><br/>The sun had gone down and the day shift ponies were returning for their evening’s bath and rest. With Monaco being Monaco the rich liked to party and gamble all night which for me meant fares going on usually to the small hours, I ran two shifts of ponies, early and late. The early animals operated a service in the morning and afternoon while the late animals worked in the afternoon and evening. The evening shift would be coming on in an hour or so and a few ponies were back from their day’s work. The pleasant buzz at my crotch that had been there since I’d enjoyed watching Leotie squeal and finger herself under my shower had put me in that naughty mood to be a little cruel to someone. Now, what poor pony was just back from carrying fat tourists all day? Someone I liked to tease…? Ah. Yes, there she was, just the bitch I enjoyed abusing. I strode over, Leotie trotting behind me in her clicking heels and jingling bells.<br/><br/><strong>“Bonsoir. It’s Electra, isn’t it? Monsieur Beaufort’s daughter? I’m pleased to see you hard at work. Enjoying yourself?”</strong>As I’d walked up to the middle-class French snob she smiled at me and tucked her dark hair back behind one ear. It was gathered up in a ponytail and straggled messily down at the sides. She wore an open-collared blue checked shirt, and jodhpurs tucked into riding boots, the shirt straining to contain her rather plump assets. The bitch might make a good pony if her father fell on hard times. A wicked fantasy whizzed quickly through my head of blackmail and corruption and dear father being forced to sell his daughter due to his business crashing. I think her dear papa had a lawnmower company or something like that. The brunette was bubbly and smiley and spicy. A complete air-head of course but a great arse and thighs on her. It was true, she would make a good pony.<br/><br/>As we talked I casually caressed the animal she was in the process of preparing for milking. It was that superb plump English bitch, Pamela Thaunton, or as she was now known, ‘Titty’. And with good reason. She had the biggest jugs of any of my animals. I’d named her because of that; what else can one do with a pair of 36 double F’s? In any other circumstances the bitch could have been a Goddess… except her circumstances now were very different. She had suffered much under my ownership. I loved torturing Titty. She was in her early 50s but easily looked 10 years younger, maybe 15. The strict corsetry she’d worn since arriving here had compressed her waist to around 25 inches and under a very severe corset such as she wore in harness, it went down to 23. That just made her tits and arse and thighs even more spectacular. She ran for hours on the treadmills and worked on the weights and bars hard, the trainers whipping her until she dropped. I’d burned all the excess bulk off her and replaced it with muscle, but muscle that lay under a layer of feminine fat, just enough to preserve her plump looks and not make her look like an Olympic athlete. I couldn’t bear women who looked like that which is why I shied away from professional pony racing. The animals were plain ugly in my eyes.<br/><br/>My hand slid up to cup a massive tit, hot and hard, swollen with milk. Her nipple, thick and erect, and already beaded with milk droplets, was the size of the end joint of my ring finger. I cupped the splendid globe of meat and squeezed cruelly, the thumb and finger of my other hand reaching to twist the ring that pierced her teat, pulling the metal around so her nipple was tortured into a tight corkscrew.<br/><br/>As Electra worked we chatted in a friendly manner and I abused Titty, enjoying hearing her whinny a little and shake her head in pain. The bitch had obviously been worked hard this afternoon, out in the sun. Her bit was covered with drool and flecks of foam spattered her chin and chest; her hide was coated with sweat and her black stockings were glued to her magnificent powerful thighs. She stamped her booted feet restlessly. “I need to cum real bad!” Her restless skitterings told me.<em>Tough titties, Titty. No fun for you, not yet.</em>Her sweat smelled rich and pungent and it was clear from the wetness down her inner thighs that she was craving pleasure. As she began to back down onto the ‘relief post’ Electra was about to treat her to, my grip on her massive breast tightened considerably, and using the crushed globe as a crude handle I pulled Titty forwards again, away from the dildo-vibe that buzzed welcomingly atop the aluminium stake. A row of these aluminium tubes could be slotted into steel-lined holes around the edge of the courtyard and ponies could be allowed to have pleasure on them (which the paying public enjoyed watching) while they were being milked or groomed. The taller posts without vibrators but just fat blunt ends were used as ‘hitching posts’. Stand a pony over one, extend it upwards telescopically into the animal’s body about eight inches and lock it in place and the pony couldn’t move. She’d have to remain here, on tip-toe and impaled until you collapsed the post and let her off again. The hitching posts without the vibrator attachments were strictly “no pleasuring” and it was even a wonderful entertainment to see a half-dozen animals astride these awaiting their next shift and clearly wanting to bend their knees and fuck themselves on them, but be forbidden to do so. They would whinny and whine and roll their eyes and leak copiously down the shafts. I often got off to video of ponies awaiting duty on their posts.<br/><br/><strong>“No, Electra, don’t milk this bitch. I need her for a private ride down to the quay. Go look after Snobby. And give her several orgasms, she’s earned it.”</strong><br/><br/>Still crushing Titty’s tit I led her across the courtyard to the vehicle stalls.<br/><br/><strong>“Henri, bonsoir. My traditional sulky please. (http://www.cobbandco.qm.qld.gov.au/Events+and+Exhibitions/Exhibitions/Permanent/National+Carriage+Collection/Sulkies+and+gigs/~/media/Images/CC/Events%20and%20exhibitions/Exhibitions/Permanent/National%20Carriage%20Collection/Sulkies%20and%20gigs/drop-shaft-sulky-h14814.jpg?w=400&amp;h=400&amp;as=1) I’m going out for the evening and taking Titty with me. It’ll do her good to work a few more hours, the bitch has been slacking recently and if I’m not mistaken I think she’s putting a bit of weight back on.”</strong><br/><br/>Henri prepared the sulky and I backed the snorting and seemingly unhappy Titty between the shafts. Unhappy she might well be. She was tired and sweat-soaked after a long day’s work and of course craving an orgasm or two. It’d do her good to wait a bit longer. Her corset was connected up, locking her to the vehicle and I checked her arms were securely and tightly bound across her back. I then added bells back to her nipple rings and added a cluster of three to the bar of her triangle piercing. These would shift and bounce directly against her clit like teasing little weights. I also spread her cunt wide open with two small thigh straps that were tightly strapped at the very tops of her legs right beneath her crotch. Small jewellers chains were then run from the rings through her inner labia out to D rings stitched into the thigh straps. This resulted in her sex being pulled violently open into a wet pink diamond-shaped gash. I did this often to my ponies, I think they looked so much more like animals, more crude and exposed this way. It also of course was much more humiliating.<br/><br/><strong>“I’ll take one of the folding temporary hitching posts with me as well please, Henri. Merci.”</strong>I stowed the foot-long telescoped-down metal contraption in the luggage basket that was fixed behind the bench seat. My clutch-bag went in there as well. As it was dark now Henri slotted two electric lamps onto their brackets at the extremities of the seat frame and switched them on. The old-fashioned coach lamp styled lights shone through a white lens forwards and a red lens to the rear.<br/><br/>I walked around the vehicle and animal one last time, checking connectors, harness, cunt, blinkers, wheel hubs, breasts, springs, tail plug and brakes, slapping Titty’s breasts hard a few times on the sides or from underneath where they were most tender. Spots of milk splashed off her body.<strong>“Those’ll be sore by the time I leave my evening appointment,”</strong>I told her softly, thumbing a nipple. Her bell jingled. I smiled evilly at her.<strong>“So I think I’ll whip them.”</strong><br/><br/>I climbed up and took my seat, beckoning Leotie up beside me and welcomed her arms around my middle. She was soft and warm and smelled wonderful. We cuddled up and I kissed her hair. I removed the whip from its socket and flicked it against Titty’s massive rear end. I flicked the reins.<strong>“Turn about pony, turn about, go left. Smart girl.”</strong>I turned the sulky around through a neat one-eighty degrees within its own space, Titty’s hooves clicking and the steel tyres grinding on the flagstones. This vehicle was one of my personal favourites and being a traditional build it was an aluminium underframe, steel springs and wooden trim. This made it a very heavy pull and with two up poor Titty would be struggling tonight. But then… that was why I’d chosen it… and her. I was in a cruel mood. Seeing the animal suffer made me wet.<br/><br/>We moved out slowly under the archway to the alley and I tugged left on the reins. Titty walked left, downhill. The vehicle eased slowly out of the doors and I skilfully shortened and loosed Titty’s reins until the wide cart had swung through ninety degrees and narrowly missed a table of bistro diners. I smiled down at them, giving them a “good evening”, and they thumbs-upped at me, nodding admiringly at the almost naked beauty at my side.<br/><br/><strong>“Walk on, Titty, walk on.”</strong>Another flick of my whip, a heavier one this time, against the bitch’s arse and we were off, her auburn tail swishing and bouncing prettily from side to side. The large plug the spring-steel S-shaped core fitted into would be giving her the usual ass-fucking as she moved.