Series: Recalcitrant Pony Boy #4
Graham is a rising star at Master Iain’s stable, but he’s never had a challenge quite like this. Can he break in Cosmo to be the stall pony Buck needs? Even more, can he crack the enigma that is his fellow groom Jonah, whose secret desires unlock a need Graham’s never felt before? A new erotic story of two grooms and their ponies, set in a fantasy world of toys, pony play, and a master/slave dynamic.
Also in this series: Recalcitrant Pony Boy, Recalcitrant Pony Boy 2: The Show, Recalcitrant Pony Boy 3: The Trainer
Strung out for my appreciative eyes, Blaze’s arms stretched above his head as he gripped the leather strap above him, balanced precariously on the balls of his feet. His mouth was bound by a rubber phallus he sucked helplessly as he fixed his desire-glazed eyes on me, knowing I would do what I pleased with him.
I fixed another weight to Blaze’s left nipple ring, then the right one, stretching and pinching the sensitive flesh and drawing another moan from him. His chest and ribs heaved under the tight leather straps that bound him. His hole stretched impossibly from the phallus deep inside him—I’d pierced him with the largest one in the stable, knowing Blaze could take it. He would take more if I demanded it, would obey me even if I broke him utterly.
“Keep your hands on that strap,” I commanded, knowing the suffering it would cause him, and how much Blaze craved that suffering.
Master Iain might own all of us, but Blaze was my pony in every way that counted. After seeing Master with Sol, I suspected he understood the bond between a man and his pony better than anyone.
His rich red hair was dark with sweat, and his pale skin showed the welts of my whip crossing his buttocks and thighs. A reminder to bring him back to himself, after he’d faltered on a series of movements he’d performed perfectly hundreds of times before. Blaze performed beautifully in deep submission, but was just as prone to shattering from self-doubt and anxiety if given the chance. Even after his success at the pony show, he could fall apart without a constant, heavy hand.
“I have something new for you,” I said, pulling a small metal screw from my pocket.
Fear and excitement warred in Blaze’s eyes. It was a groom’s job to know a pony’s true wants and needs, even the ones he kept hidden from the world, and for Blaze it was pain. Pain to ground and center him; pain to remind him that he served at my pleasure.
Earlier, I’d bound Blaze’s cock in a cage of metal rings, as forced chastity often helped to settle him. At the top of the cage, near the base of Blaze’s cock, was a small hole.
To this I fixed the screw. At the end of it were dulled points that would still feel excruciating against the sensitive skin of Blaze’s cock. As I slowly turned the screw it into the hole, I watched Blaze’s eyes as discomfort shifted quickly into pain.
“Tears won’t help you, darling,” I said when a whimper escaped him and the corners of his eyes showed wet. Blaze knew exactly how little mercy I would show him, because it wasn’t mercy he craved.