(http://i279.photobucket.com/albums/kk137/HaibaneR/Monaco/Characters/Avatars/PammyAvatar-03.jpg)<br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">Pamela "Titty" Thaunton</span></span><br/><strong>Location:</strong>Arriving at Place du Casino, strapped to a carriage<br/><strong>With:</strong>Five Non-Player Characters - Jimmy the coach driver, an as-yet unnamed pony-girl in a side-by-side harness, two passengers and their slave.<br/><hr/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://static.dragondriving.co.uk/images/horsecarts/carriage30439-1.jpg)</div>The carriage was seriously heavy, even empty. With two passengers inside and Jimmy, the driver, perched up on the front, it would have been impossible for me to even shift it on my own. Fortunately I was not alone, though. There is an old saying - one man cannot lift half a piano, but two men can lift a whole one. Not that men lift anything anymore, but the point is valid - the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. As we rounded the corner on the Avenue de Monte Carlo outside the Casino, I looked to my right - legitimately as we were turning to the right - and then held the glance longer than I would normally have done. My partner in harness was  soaked in sweat, and looked like she was breathing hard.<br/><br/>Not that I wasn't sweating, but the burning in my thigh muscles was a pain I had grown to know and love over the years. Three years hard labour for daring to strike my Master had taught me a lot of things about this crazy world we now lived in. I was lucky, the judge had told me. If my Master had so desired he could have had me put down. Killed, to put it a different way. But he had been merciful and told the court that he still cared for me. And the judge had been merciful too.<br/><br/>But of course I was now tattooed forever with a prison bar code and number. Forehead above the right eye, left breast above the nipple, right shoulder blade, left hip and inside my right labia. That one had hurt like fuck, but it was just one of the many tortures and humiliations I suffered in prison. I had learned a lot. Like not fighting the system, like it's easier to do as you are told willingly and earn the rewards than to do so unwillingly and earn the punishments. When I got out, my husband didn't want me anymore. He was quite happy fucking the brains out of our daughter, and so he put me up for sale. But no-one wanted a fifty two year old ex-con, no matter how fit, no matter how pretty.<br/><br/>I was beginning to despair and wonder if I would spend the rest of my miserable days in the holding cell, when Nereza Fabrizio,. on a visit to the UK, spotted me. She haggled my price down until the market was practically paying her, and then had me shipped back to Monaco.<br/><br/>And so my new life had begun.<br/><br/>And now, here I was, my premolars missing and a metal bar in my mouth, an impossibly tight leather corset strapped around my waist, arms strapped almost painfully tight behind my back which had the effect of pushing my fairly substantial chest forward. Rings through nipples and labia jingled playhully with the bells on them (And would be connected to the reins on days when Mistress was using me for sport rather than to earn her money). My naked sex, shaved daily by one of the grooms, was dribbling with my heat, thanks to that daily tablet that was as much a punishment as a reward. The carriage's shafts were bolted to my corset via a couple of short chains. A halter kept the bit in my mouth, a plume bobbed from the top of my head, and blinkers kept me facing forward, except when turning.<br/><br/>That left just the last three items of my apparel. Those damn boots. It had taken me the whole of the first two days of my training to get the hang of walking in them. Imagine wearing a pair of stilettos without the heel, and still having to keep your foot in that same posture? I got the hang of it though, mostly because I got fed up with being whipped every time I stumbled. But the most humiliating thing of all, had to be the tail. The fact that my arse was hosed out with hot water every morning was something I was beginning to enjoy, but that huge plug being inserted without any lubricant was something I was still getting used to.<br/><br/>But the worst part of it was the way it was always moving inside me. The tail was on a spring and flounced about as I walked. No cheap tails for my Mistress, oh no. I'd seen other pony girls with tales that just dangled limply from their butt holes, or that sprouted from their harnesses. Mistress used only the best. The anal plug on the tail was huge - my training had included a variety of steadily increasing sized plugs until I was ready for the tail - and the spring ran up between my cheeks to the base of my spine, and the tail, made of stiff (and possibly real) horse hair sprouted horizontally from it. As I walked, so it bounced around and the plug in my moved in response. It was exquisitely pleasurable and humiliating, especially as cumming without permission would result in severe punishment.<br/><br/>"Whoa there!" Jimmy pulled back on the reins, tugging on the bit in my mouth, and with some relief I stopped pulling. My partner all but collapsed and I surreptitiously kicked her on the side of her shin. She jerked upright and I shook my head, horse-like, but the meaning to her was a human head shake.<em>Not now. Stay with it.</em><br/><br/>Sweat glistened on my breasts in the mid day sun, my skin tanned from running around naked. I wiggled my backside, enjoying the feel of the tail plug as it moved, bringing me oh so perilously close. That was a good feeling. The anticipation of my reward at the end of the day. I heard the carriage creak as the two American tourists climbed out. The younger of the two men walked around in front of me, after patting me on the backside, and held a had in front of my mouth. A sugar lump! I snickered in gratitude and lipped it off his palm, worked it past the bit in my mouth, and sat it on my tongue, letting the wonderful sweetness dissolve and run slowly down my throat. That was a real kindness, as the energy boost would help enormously.<br/><br/>Jimmy brought a water bottle and squirted some into my mouth and I whickered my thanks to him too, with a head toss, then stood, patiently, and waited for the next passenger.<br/>