The Detectives And The Dominatrix

Part 7: The Full Equine Monty

So he returns to the patio, a little sheepishly, fully covered in olive green rubber jodhpurs, hoodie, gloves and tight rubber mask. He gasps, he actually gasps as he sees her. He’s only been gone 5 minutes, but seeing her, so completely helpless in gleaming tan rubber and leather, how can she do this to him? She is not just calm but assured, under the mask he sees her grin.

“Well look at you, master,” she stresses, then laughs, “is that a banana in your pants or are you happy to see me.” He is well aware that his hard cock is trapped under his pants, pointing to the sky, resting against the cool rubber of the jodhpurs. God, what am I doing?

“Yes, well I don’t know how… okay, let’s get moving, before the torrent.”

“Oh we’re not finished yet, my dear master,” she pauses, “on the seat of the buggy you’ll see the last pieces of the puzzle. You need me to be under your complete control, after all. That’s what you want.” She teases as he looks down at them and says.

“You can’t be serious Emily, come on. No, nonono. Let’s go in, it’s going to pour down in a minute.”

“And we’re both wearing rubber, we’ve been over that already. Benson, master, I want the whole ensemble, to be a true pony.” Now she stamps her foot, her hoof. “Just get on with it Benson - master. We’re not going back now.” She is quite adamant, she feels she has to do it, to satisfy her burgeoning curiosity in the role of the sub. She can see he isn’t happy at all, well, maybe more nervous really, and knows if she wavers now, he will bring it to a stop.

“Benson. Don’t play games with me, I know you really want to see me in all this, I know you do, do I have to remind you what happened the last time you had me in this tack, hhmm? Yes, you seemed to rather like it, if I remember. Oh, and so did I, didn’t I?” She speaks louder now. “Please.” She isn’t pleading, not Emily, just prodding him, pressing him firmly.

“Clamps, bit, butt.” She takes a breath – did she really say it like that? “You can do it. Come on, get on with it. Right now, the way I’m trussed like a turkey you can do anything you want with me. Bend me over and fuck me, I know you’d like to do that, don’t look so shocked. And I know you enough now, you can’t fool me, all right? Now finish my dressing and then you can take me for a canter, all right? We won’t be long out there, just long enough for me to assess the full gear.” She locked eyes with him. “Be my master, now.” Knowing he’s beaten, he places the clamps, bells attached, over her nipples – which he sees are erect and hard - takes a breath and allows the rubber teeth to settle on her. She winces a little, biting her lower lip, then nods. Then he kisses her gently.

“Emily, I really don’t know what to think, you really are quite the craziest, most beautiful woman I know.”

“God, I hope so. Ooooh, those clamps. Come on, the bit is next and then, well, the butt plug. I’m not crazy about that part but I need everything on.” She laughs as he tenderly places the rubber bit, with rubber barbed tongue depressor in front of her mouth.

“I really hate this thing, it can do some damage I’m sure.”

“It’s designed to do what it does, control the pony, me that is. If she doesn’t behave then she pays for it.” She is rather amused that she is talking in the third person, like Carol had done. He pushes it in.

“No more talking from now on, I suppose.”

“Aahhh.” She adjusts her tongue to the intruder, taking deep breaths as he clips it onto the steel attachments of the bridle each side of her mouth. God, she thinks, it isn’t any better the second time, it really is very uncomfortable indeed, very efficient.

Then he attaches the reins to the sides of the bridle. Okay, she thinks, I’m getting used to it, just make sure the reins don’t pull too tight and I get the rubber spikes jutting up into my palate, not very nice, not at all. Now I’m mute, unable to communicate any more with him. If it really gets very unpleasant, how am I going to tell him? Oh, I never really thought of that. I will just have to trust him. She moves back between the arms of the buggy and he hooks the arms to rings either side of her corset.

On the seat is an open attaché case. He gasps again as he sees inside are two rows of butt plugs set in the velvet, like valuable ancient flintlock pistols. They are of different sizes and shapes, but none look particularly “inviting”. Benson remembers having one of these up his rear, Emily being the one who thrust it into him, and now he is going to do this to her.

All of them have a hole in the curved contoured base, for the tail to fit into. And the tail is next to the case, a blonde, wavy tail set in a brass fitting, to fit all the plugs. He picks it up and comes around to face her.

“This looks like real hair.” She nods.

“From a client of yours?” She nods.

“Her hair? You forced her to cut all her hair off for a pony tail? I can’t believe it. How could you do that?” She shakes her head, restricted by the posture collar.

“You didn’t force her? She accepted this? She, this woman, this sub wanted you to do this?” he stops for a second “This is the female client you have told me about, isn’t it, the one who designed this tack, this barbed tongue thing, and she was prepared to have all her hair shorn for you, to provide her with a real pony tail, for herself.” She nods.

“Incredible, just incredible. She must be an extraordinary woman. I don’t know how someone, why someone would do that, other than they wanted to.” He allows this to settle in for a few seconds. “Okay, so which plug, do I use? I can’t believe I said that.”

She turns her head to the side, you choose, she mimes.

“Christ, what am I doing? I must be mad.” He returns to the seat, takes a deep breath and being a perfect gentleman, selects the smallest and smoothest (for there are some nasty ribbed and smooth barbed ones as well). In the case, there is also a large jar of lube, which he opens and dips the plug into.

“I’m going mad here. Okay, I suppose there’s no easy way with this. God, Emily, I really don’t know. Where is this all leading?” she hardly in a position to answer him, is she? He comes beside her and she obediently bends over, spreading her legs, thrusting back her rubber buttocks, nodding her head slightly. He places it through the hole in her tan rubber suit and presses gently. She unconsciously jerks and then settles back as he pushes harder. He looks down at her puckered hole, expanding to accommodate the smooth intruder.

“You are one crazy woman, Emily, I simply can’t believe I’m doing this.” She is now panting, but is able to relax her muscle as he presses in further, stops, then further to near the widest part. He stops for a second allowing her to accommodate it. She gasps for a few seconds. Then he pushes again and she lets out a loud aaaaahh as it passes the widest part and settles into her, and her sphincter grips the narrow neck. He adjusts the oval, curved base to nestle between her cheeks. He rests for a second taking all this in, then he takes the blonde tail and screws it in.

“Aaahh, aaahh.” She breathes heavily and stands, wiggling her buttocks, adjusting to the intruder. The tail now sprouts from her rear, falling over her cheeks and thighs. He looks at her, hardly believing his eyes. There are the blinkers of course, but not today, she needs to get comfortable first with all the other gear.

She thinks…

Well this is what I wanted, so… helpless, and with a flick of a finger I must obey, the rubber suit actually makes it even better, and she’s happy for the mask, if I’m to play the role, then somehow it helps, I’ve never trotted, cantered, or whatever with a butt plug, how will that go? I’m going to find out, no going back now, no safe word, he can do what he wants with me. Is this really what I wanted? There’s a warmth on my exposed pussy, maybe that is telling me something, well, we’ll see.

He thinks…

She looks wonderful, just perfect - submissive yet somehow proud. I can see the large bulge in my rubber jodhpurs, a bulge that has been there since the start of her dressing. I never used to keep an erection so long. And what does that make me? Am I becoming schizophrenic - normally a cool, calm, professional detective - and then a sex mad rubber pervert? Perhaps that is an exaggeration, but at this very moment I want to fuck, not make love, fuck my stunning Emily, take her right now.

He feels the first drops of rain, it is getting quite dark, nasty clouds above, and he knows they are in for a real downpour. He clears the seat of the attaché case and sits down, takes the reins in his hand, and, now what? He flicks them lightly, and off she moves.

“All right my beauty.” He says, feeling a bit foolish. She raises her hoofed feet, pulling back her shoulders, and then he hears the tinkle of her nipple bells, and sees her pony tail swish across her shiny tan rubber buttocks. Oh my, what a sight. Can this be really happening? She walks at first, finding her feet and then she leads him through the open gate of the brick arch at the end of her garden and into the field. Benson really doesn’t want to leave the confines of her walled garden, but he also doesn’t want to pull on her reins hurting her palate, so he has to let her lead, and take her time.

Beyond is a barren field, a small copse and more thickets. He doesn’t like this at all, feeling so exposed. She looks stunning of course, and his cock is still rock hard and she leads the way. It’s not right that the horse is in control, but he doesn’t want to stop her by pulling in the reins and having the rubber barbs jerk up into her sensitive palate. She had said no farmer had been here in years, and even more unlikely any ramblers, but Benson is still very nervous. The sight of Emily however, already up to a slow trot, in her shiny tan rubber and matching harness, with her pony tail flicking from side to side, puts that to the back of his mind. The rain continues to fall, and has become heavier, but he’s as warm and dry as toast, well not dry, for he’s sweating slightly now in the hoodie and jodhpurs. He pulls up the hood and his is now under two layers of rubber. Not much chance of the rain getting in there now.

Emily feels she is in control, it shouldn’t be like that, but she can sense that Benson doesn’t want to use the reins, oh, what a darling he is. She is getting accustomed to the feel of the boots, the bit and even the butt plug, which is not large, but every move sends a vibration through her. She is up to a slow trot and all is well. She can feel the heavy rain drops on her rubber head, the sounds of them amplified by the tight rubber.   

After maybe 7 or 8 minutes, she is moving a little faster, gaining confidence, bells ringing out, Benson thinks she seems completely oblivious to the butt plug, or the bit, but trots confidently. Is she actually happily? He can hardly believe his eyes. The rain is now pelting down, bouncing off her rubber head and body, already forming muddy puddles in the grass and rutted path. Benson chuckles, for she had been right, as she nearly always was, under the protective rubber he is nice and comfortable. He likes its smooth silkiness and he is surprised that he likes the cling of the mask, the definitely the anonymity of it. He thought it would make him feel claustrophobic, but on the contrary, he feels almost liberated.

He shocks himself in realising that he is now thoroughly enjoying himself, here in the pouring rain, being led by a beautiful rubber pony, thoughts of being detected have almost disappeared now, but where would this all end?

And what about Emily, the proud pony?

She is again facing the now familiar dichotomy. She is a dom, loves being a dom, is born for it, she thinks. And yet, and yet she is excited, aroused by all this. She is still surprised, shocked that this sensation has been somehow hidden for so many years within her, and then it has been Benson who has exposed it. And she is surprised to be so happy he did. After all, doesn’t she now have the best of both worlds? The bit she is getting used to, as long as he doesn’t pull on it, and she appreciates that he has let her have the reins. The boots are fine too, her balance has always been good in heels, a lot of ballet training to thank for that. But what surprises her is the butt plug. She might have thought that, as it is only her second time, after “that night”, she might have had real trouble adjusting, but she hasn’t. She is aware of its presence of course, but it isn’t splitting her in two. She is able to trot with relative ease, feeling the beautiful tail tickle her buttocks, she must thank Carol for that, and so she gains confidence with every step. She knows she looks stunning, there is no false modesty with Emily, and she is delighted to see that this had been reflected in Benson’s very substantial erection, impossible to hide under the thin rubber of his jodhpurs. 

She is now going quite fast, a good jog, enjoying the rain beating down on her masked head. But much faster than Benson wants, much faster – he sees her hurtling along and she is aaahhing and aaahhing, actually seeming to laugh, on a complete high. He calls for her to slow down, not wanting to use the reins, then he screams at her, slow down, dammit! But she now is in a different world. He really has to pull her in before anything… but he doesn’t want to hurt her mouth by pulling her back too hard.

Suddenly she steps in a large puddle, maybe she isn’t seeing too well in the pouring rain, she turns her ankle and then her hip, and begins to topple. Ohno, ohno. To the right is a largish boulder - ohmygod – he yanks on the left rein, hard and her head jerks to the left… and misses the rock by a couple of inches as she tumbles in the wet grass and mud, landing on her side, her shoulder, then front, turning her head to the side. The buggy arms have a failsafe break, so once they are not horizontal they spring loose. Benson leaps off, to hear Emily grunt as she lies in the muddy grass, face down. Quickly he approaches her, and despite the tight rubber mask, he can see she is a little dazed.

The Pony Is Punished

“Are you all right? You stupid, you stupid… are you okay?” She nods. Her neck hurts a bit, and her shoulder is throbbing, and her palate that took the full force of him pulling her to the side. As he is about to take the bit from her mouth, then shakes it violently. I’m fine, I’m fine she wants to say, but it is all garbled. Yes, she seems fine, just a bit bruised. She’s mad at herself. She gets her breath. Her shoulder continues to throb a little and her hip, but nothing is dislocated or broken, otherwise she feels actually not too bad, just a little embarrassed, well very embarrassed. He helps her stand and he examines her, she sees the concern on his face under the mask, and then he notices the glistening at her pussy, my god, she has got off on this. He may be concerned, but now he’s furious.

“You stupid, you lunatic, did you see that rock, you could have cracked your head open on… you could have been killed. I can’t believe… have you any idea… if I hadn’t pulled you to the… god, I can’t believe you let me…”

She’s never seen him like this. Normally in control, he’s beside himself, angry and concerned in equal measure. She just stands in front of him, raising her shoulders in a shrug, she seems to be not too bothered by it all, which now makes him more furious. Yes, she has mud all over her, but he knows the rubber suit, much thicker than the rubber he is wearing, will have reduced the impact of many bumps and scratches. She doesn’t seem fazed, perhaps she is still on her high. She can see he remains very angry, angrier than she’s ever seen before, and not calming down at all. In a way, that pleases her, that he cares so much, but what can she say to him, she realises she loved hurtling along, bound, plugged and hoofed. Not completely in his control, no, but still the whole sensation has actually made her wet.

To their left, 50 yards away is the small copse and he sees a waist high fence and gate, perhaps for keeping sheep many years ago. He is still angry beyond belief, she really could have hurt, even killed… well, never mind, she’s all right. In this frame of mind, he is not himself at all as he reconnects the buggy to her corset then takes her reins and pulls hard on them, she aaahhes loudly, angrily – what’s going on? - as the barbs jerk up into her palate, but she has to follow in step quickly as he leads her to the gate. He steps behind it, pulling her reins down so her head dips to horizontal and her hips are pressed to the gate.

“Aaaaah.” What the hell?

He ties off the reins around a tree stump and now she finds she can’t move up or to the sides and she feels the rubber barbs of the tongue depressor rest against her palate. She certainly doesn’t want to raise her head, that would be very painful, so she leans over the gate, completely helpless, the only movement available is to dip her head. He is still muttering, more to himself, “you damn idiot, you could have been seriously, I can’t believe, and then… well maybe I can beat some sense into you, hhmm?”

He stands by her side, hand placed on her back, he raises her pony tail and lays it on her back. She shudders as the plug moves within her, and aaaaahes loudly. But he has moved onto a new plain. He ignores her reaction and then without any warning, with a huge swing brings his gloved hand down on her buttock. Her head jerks up and the barbs dig into her palate, aaaaahhhhh! Wait a minute, what the fuck! Sheez, that hurt! But he now ignores her pleas and continues to spank her, whack her hard and then harder, to the point that his hand stings under the rubber glove. He even forgets how many times he has spanked her, and in the mood he is in, really doesn’t care.

“I…cannot…believe….how…stupid…dumb….you…” he continues, each word emitted between a really hard swat at her rear. He is not holding anything, anything at all back, this is really hurting.

She has on the rubber suit but it doesn’t seem to help. This is not fun for Emily, this is not a playful pat, her buttocks are on fire, tears well in her eyes, but all she could do is dip her head. This is how Carol must feel when Emily canes her, and now Emily has a new-found respect for her friend. Rain still pounds down on her head and body, and after about 10 or 12 brutal thwacks, maybe more, she has no idea, he stops. Her bum is on fire and she wails into her bit.

And yet, shamefully she realises, there is also a glow within her.

“Knocked any sense into you? How thoughtless could you… Have you any idea how much I… I cannot believe…” He has calmed down – a bit, maybe through the exertion, gives up and returns to the buggy to sit and get his equilibrium. Now, he almost has to laugh, he is now mad at himself for losing his temper. The controlled, calm detective seems to have taken a holiday, and the rubber pervert has taken over. He is ashamed that he has reacted in such an uncontrolled way. A red cloud had come over him and he had yielded to it. He sits there for a minute or so, listening to her aaaaah and aaahh. And he sees her glistening pussy through the opening in her suit. No, she can’t have actually got off on the beating as well as the pony play, could she? No, surely not.

No one is around for miles, the rain continues to pelt down but he is warm and dry, well a little sweaty. He looks again at her red glistening lips, how can he? How could he? But it is too good an opportunity, he has to take it. He doesn’t know what makes him feel this way, but he isn’t going to fight it. And then he thinks, well, bugger it! He pulls a couple of condoms out of his pocket. He pulls his cock through the fly and rolls them over his cock, which has been hard since she has begun to dress in her rubber, well that says something about what makes him tick, he has never been erect for this long, never.

He goes behind her and can see that she is indeed aroused, inflamed, wet, almost dripping. She can’t really see him as he grips her corseted waist, aligns himself, raises the pony tail again, and in one thrust, is in her, right to the hilt, his thighs pressing on hers. Aaaaaaahh, she screeches, possibly in shock but maybe more in pleasure, at least he hopes, as he takes up a steady rhythm. Her buttocks are still on fire, but this is what she really wants. All thoughts of her tender, well-spanked arse slowly dissipate as he fills her. He is big all right, and she has got accustomed to his size over the last few weeks, but the force of his thrust has taken the air out of her. Oh god, that is soooo good, she thinks. The rain still pounds on her head and back, and on his hood, but both are now oblivious.

She is now grunting in time to each of his thrusts. He plugs her, rubbing every inch of her sensitive love channel, and she loves that. He can almost feel the butt plug rub him as he thrusts deep into her. Many times their lovemaking has been tender, giving, empathetic. This is passionate, animalistic, athletic, almost violent. It has only happened between them twice, and both times she has been in her pony gear, once in the bedroom and the second, right here in the full rig. They are both more than aware of this fact and will have to confront it later. He continues to pound into her, playing with her tail, moving it from side to side. He continues to feel the butt plug with his cock, as he thrusts into her.

She can’t believe how long they, he, has been going. She has come perhaps three or four times, shaking and grunting, her nipple rings peeling out, it seems as if one coalesces with the other. She is wet in her rubber suit now. Not due to the rain pounding down on them but her ardour, her wanting more of his cock. But then he withdraws – no no, not now she tries to grunt - and he calmly steps around to face her, and then she sees his stiff cock sticking out from the fly of his pants, her juices gleaming on the condoms. He takes her bit and unclips one side from the bridle and the bit and tongue depressor drop to one side, suspended.

“Aaaaah, Benson I’m so sorr…. aaaarrgh, aarrr, mmmmmfff.” He has rammed his cock into her protesting mouth, not very tenderly, and now he grips her pony tail sprouting from her masked head, firmly and raises and lowers her head onto him. She continues to mmmmfff loudly, but he isn’t interested in her excuses.

“Lick me dry.” He orders coolly, and she licks and sucks her own juices from the thin rubber of the condoms. He pulls her pony tail down, the head of his cock now at the back of her throat, holds it there, listening to her gasp and then struggle for air, and raises her head again, then continues until he feels she’s maybe is getting the message. He is furious with her, he isn’t furious because he hates her, but because he doesn’t want her harmed, yes, he is now content to admit, he loves her, she is crazy, nuts, silly, but also intelligent, far more than he is, and funny, dry, witty, oh, and beautiful. Perhaps this is an odd way to show it, but the red mist had descended on him when she put her health, her life in jeopardy like that. He wraps her pony tail in his hand, taking a firm grip, rather like a joystick, and now he can easily manoeuvre her, control her, leaving his other hand to stroke her masked head. He withdraws his cock now, strips off the condoms as she begins to apologise, taking gulps of air.

“Benson, look…I’m sorr…aaaahh, mmmff, mmm.” But he is in no mood now to hear any of that and his cock now fills her mouth again.

She continues to mmmff around his cock, but he knows her enough now to see that she is not resisting as she should have, despite her burning buttocks. He is sure she is enjoying this, she really is a very bad girl. But now he is concentrating on going as long as he can before her supine beauty will make him gush into her. He withdraws, but before she can say…

“Benson, please, listen…no, let me expla…..aaarggh.” He pulls on her pony tail and eases his cock past her lips again. He isn’t fearful that she may bite him, at least he thinks she won’t. She has a quite wonderful, tender mouth and although she has not done this many times before, she is definitely getting to know every contour of his cock, but this of course is a slightly different scenario.

Now he is nearing the end, he pushes further, and he knows she will not get any air in a second, she bends her head, takes a deep breath, and he thrusts himself into her to his root. He has no idea how she can do this, what it would feel like having a warm, muscled cock essentially suffocating you, but he holds it there, feeling her anxiety rise as she runs out of air, then withdraws until just his helmet is in her mouth, and she gulps in air before he repeats his thrust. This is animalistic, he knows that, but doesn’t stop. He is incredibly impressed by her skill. Part of him feels horribly guilty, he is abusing her, but is it against her will? And the other part relishes the power he is exerting over her. He realises he can do anything he wishes right now, even fuck her anally, god, did he really think that, does he want to do that? Her pert bottom wriggles and the pony tail flicks as she continues to suck him, could he fuck her arse, right now? Yes, he knows he could, but they haven’t been there yet, and maybe this isn’t the time for that? How can these ideas have risen in his mind? He would have never thought these things before he met her, but then he is beginning to realise that there are not many women like Emily.

How could she love this? She asks herself. Completely helpless, bent over the fence, arms twisted behind her back up to her neck, stuffed into a rubber suit, corset and neck corset, anus plugged, nipples clamped and bells ringing, and her mouth forced around his cock, thrusting in and out to the back of her throat and beyond. And yet, this kernel in her has now grown and she does love this, to be in his, Benson’s, control, completely, for him to do as he wishes, as he is now. She is surprised at what he is doing to her, he is so in control, no hesitation, no shyness (certainly not) at all. And she loves him all the more for it.

Finally, she can feel him coming, and as he withdraws, until his helmet is just inside her lips, she feels a gush of hot sperm hit the back of her throat. He doesn’t withdraw, just keeps her there, holding her pony tail, while he continues to pump his juices into her. She manages, despite the intruder at her lips, to swallow, several times, almost gagging at first on the warm, slippery cum. She herself has already come several times, shaking, shuddering and grunting. Now, as he withdraws, he leaves his cock in front of her, and she knows her duty. She says nothing, as she licks off his fluid.

They are both spent. Now she can at last speak to him, try and explain her actions.

“Benson, plea…aaargh, aaaah.”

But no, she doesn’t get the chance, as he stuffs the tongue depressor in - aaaarrrgh, aaaahh - and clips the bit back onto the bridle. Now she has to keep her head still again, attached as she is by the reins to the root in the ground. He pats her rubber dome, arranging her wet pony tail. He unleashes her and she stands unsteadily, now glaring at him, she really did want to explain. He places the used condoms on the seat, takes a deep breath, without making eye contact he takes hold of her reins, then he turns towards the cottage and leads her, slowly, back.

She keeps her eyes on him as he glances back, she walks with a slight limp, probably from her fall, but no more. And she is a bit wobbly, she has been fucked royally, and she is warm, wet, and just a little tender between her legs, but if she is to analyse it, she actually feels rather good, content. Except for her buttocks that is, for they are really throbbing! But that doesn’t mean that she isn’t concerned about Benson’s mood. He hasn’t said anything for a long time, and she knows he must be still mad with her. She can tell by his mannerisms - not his face for it remains rubber masked and hooded - that he is still furious with her. He will take some placating all right, but how can she do that?

The rain had now washed some of the mud from her and portions of her suit and corset gleam like new again. The downpour has eased but it was still coming down, but they are both dry, except for their own sweat that is. He glances back again and can’t help but admire her posture, her gait, and her beauty. Yes, she is a bit wobbly, but he can see her pussy is still engorged and her thighs glisten with her juices. Her eyes are tired too now, well he has given her a good “work-out” - in more ways than one.

Despite her “predicament” and what has happened earlier, there is still a pride to her as she enters the patio behind him. He loops the reins over a wall carriage lamp, not leaving much room for movement, then unhooks the buggy and backs it into the store. He still hasn’t said anything. She waits patiently, her eyes following him as he moves about. Then he takes her garden hose and turns it on. He twists the nozzle to jet and blasts her from a distance of barely five feet. She screams at him, the force of the water on her breasts, thighs and arms, at least the corset gives her some protection. And she doesn’t mind it on her buttocks, that at least cools them off a little. Then he gives her a quick blast on her pussy and she almost faints, although she can’t as he’s tied her bit to the carriage lamp. Now he turns it to shower and finishes cleaning away the mud, and she now gleams like a brass statue. He finishes, and she aaaahhhs at him angrily, this is about enough, she thinks. Now he turns to her, standing close and their eyes lock. She takes in a breath, saliva and water dripping onto her rubber breasts. He says calmly.

“I’m going to shower and change, I’ll let you, let’s see… cool off here for a while, let you ponder your silly, stupid behaviour. Goddammit, have you any…” And he just shakes his head. She aaaahhes loudly her displeasure and stamps her hoof, rather petulantly he thinks, but he just turns around and enters the stables. He knows it is a bit childish, but he wants her to really think about what might have happened, and more important, what she means to him now. If she can’t figure that out well, she isn’t as smart as she appears.

We Need To Talk

He changes out of the thin rubber, he had enjoyed its cool smooth feel at first and then its warming up and keeping him nice and dry. He unzips and pulls off the mask, sweat covering his face and hair. He likes the tight fit, the anonymity, he thinks he’s getting used to them, maybe. Would he have done what he’d done to Emily without the rubber? Probably not. He washes the rubber, taking his time, then talcs the insides and returns them to their locations in the stables. He has a leisurely look round the large room, all her equipment; he doesn’t find it shocking at all, maybe he did all those weeks, months ago, but not now. It intrigues him now. Things have moved on so fast sometimes he has to pinch himself.

He showers leisurely, thinking of her all the time, outside, rain still coming down. No doubt she’s thinking of him, she can’t be in a good mood. Well, serve her right, for she had earlier given him a hell of a fright. He knows he is being petty and selfish, but she has to get the message, he values her, loves her (no doubt at all now) and her reckless behaviour needs to be pulled in. He doesn’t mind some of the edgy roleplay, well he likes it now of course, but hurtling around fields in the pouring rain, which may be fun, yes it was, well, there has to be some rules.

Then dresses in t-shirt and shorts in rubber. He doesn’t know why he picks the rubber, but they are to have a serious tete-a-tete, she will be mad at him, and this is - perhaps - a bit of a peace offering. In fact he’s more than comfortable in this rubber now, loose and comfortable. In the kitchen he can see her on the patio, her head lowered slightly, hindered by the neck corset, moving one hoofed foot and then the other. It has stopped raining now and the lowering sun has caught her in her tan rubber suit and leather tack, shining, almost as if she were a golden statue. She looks up and catches his eye and shakes her head violently, aaaahhh. Hmm, he thinks, not a happy lady there, but she will have to wait a little longer, he decides.

He gets a bottle of wine, very good wine he sees, and sits on the couch, watching her through the French doors. They will need the whole bottle. He contemplates the afternoon. He is ashamed of his behaviour, but only partly, the other parts were exciting, fulfilling, and very rewarding. She had acted foolishly, carelessly, and dangerously. Now she was paying for that. He knows he loves her now, completely, all her eccentricities, craziness, wit, irony, humour, intelligence, and of course her filthy-minded sauciness, all rolled into one. One minute the in-control dom, the other a submissive, yet proud rubber pony. And there is so much more he wants to learn about her.

Well, after a glass he decides he has to face the tune, no doubt he will get an earful, and probably deserve it, but he will give as good as he gets. He opens the French doors and their eyes lock, even with the tan rubber mask, bridle and bit he can see she is very unhappy with him, but seems a lot less angry than before, perhaps. He says nothing as comes behind and places his arms around her, her narrow, corseted waist and then her sublime breasts. He expects her to wriggle and fight, but she just relaxes and almost falls back into him. He releases her from the reins, and then her mittened hands and unbuckles one of them, then loosens her corset and neck corset. Tenderly, he slaps her backside. She aaaaahs with the pain, for her buttocks still throb.

“I think you can do the rest. Now go and shower, I’ll see you soon.” She doesn’t try and remove anything, she is still bitted and bridled, and butt plugged as well. No, she just nods slowly and clip-clops to the stables.

She strips off, slowly pulling the bit from her tender mouth. Her lips are sore, not from sucking him off, that was fine, better than fine, but from the bit and when he yanked her to the side. Her neck is a bit sore too, nothing serious but an ache. She eases off the nipple clamps, aaaaah, that hurts as the blood rushes to her sensitive nipples. Then the butt plug, well, that’s not too bad. How can I be getting used to that? And after she peels off her suit she sees the bruises on her shoulder and hip. Nasty, but better that than her noggin, she thinks. How dumb could she be, but she remembers how wonderful it was hurtling along the field, free and yet under his control. She steps in the shower and firstly aims the water at her bum, which is still throbbing. He really gave her a good paddling, she’s very red, and even a bit of blue there; and she silently hopes he hurt his hand, serve him right. She now has an even greater respect for Carol. She gives her a good whipping, caning and still she comes back for more, yes, what a lady she is, and what a strange old world.

Finally, clean and refreshed but still tired, she steps out and selects her clothes. She saw that he was in his rubber t-shirt and shorts, so decides to match him. She pulls on a white rubber peephole bra, always good for support, and is thinking of panties. But no, her bum is still very tender and she wants it to heal quickly. She had gently rubbed some antiseptic in, so decides to go without panties for the night. For sheer fun she had bought, and never worn, a diaphanous transparent rubber Victorian night dress. She loves the juxtaposition of her being loosely covered from neck to ankles and wrists and yet fully visible, prim and proper and yet tantalisingly exposed. She shivers as she pulls it over her head and pushed her arms through the loose sleeves. She sees herself in the mirror and nothing is hidden, she can see her bra, her nipples (hard still) and then her pussy. She’s ready. She’s still mad at him, and he at her no doubt, so this has to get sorted. She runs her hands down her body, the rubber brushes her nipples, phew, okay, let’s go.

It is all of an hour later when she enters the living room, he has begun to worry about her but decides not to go and see what may be happening. She needs time, he reasons. And why not, it has been an extraordinary evening for both of them, for they had learnt a lot about each other, and more importantly themselves. She looks a bit anxious, her hair is still a bit wet from the shower and frames her beautiful face. He takes a breath when he sees what she’s wearing, hiding nothing.

“I made a couple of sandwiches, some fruit and wine, I wasn’t very hungry.” He says, and she nods.

“May I sit here?” She points to the seat next to him.

“Of course.”

And he notices she winces as she sits, gingerly. They sit in silence, for at least a minute, eating – more nibbling really - and sipping the wine, they have a lot to say and it seems that neither wants to start. But it is Emily who does, eventually, talking very quietly, not looking at him.

“Look, okay, I was a bloody fool, I could apologise a thousand times, but it wouldn’t be enough. Oh, how do I explain it, when the wind was in my hair, well ha ha, pony tail, and the rain beating down and yet I’m warm and dry, something came over me, I just felt so free. You can be in extreme bondage and still feel free you know, a lot of my clients tell me that. I didn’t realize quite what they meant until today. And to know that I was under control, your control, completely vulnerable, unable to...” He gazes at her as she stops and takes a sip of wine.

“This is the second time, isn’t it? Me, under your complete control, going against everything I thought I was. Powerless,” she pauses, “and you giving me a, well, fantastic fucking, excuse the French.” She smiles almost shyly. “And I know it’s only you that makes me feel like this, I wouldn’t let anyone else take control of me like that.” She looks out the window, reliving those moments.

“It’s having you do it to me, control me, that makes me excited, I got so wet knowing that. And then I went hurtling off, god, what a fool. And you were right of course,” now she’s very serious, “a few inches to the right and I could be injured, or even killed, you lulled me to the side, you saved me. What a fool, I was going a good clip, wasn’t I?” She looks at him rather solemnly. He raises his glass.

“Could have won the Grand National.” He says, lightening the moment, and takes a sip. “I was so mad at you for risking your life like that, I just got so angry, I’m never like that, never ever, ask any of my colleagues, Ruby, she’d tell you (oh, if only he knew, she thought) but I just saw red, because I’ve never felt like I do for you with any woman before. And you were so out of control, and me, I’m a control freak, and I froze, I didn’t want to pull the reins and hurt you, and so it’s part my fault for… I wanted to punish you, for making me nearly have a seizure. My god, you were a fantastic sight though. That gorgeous bum of yours in the clinging rubber, oh. But I’m so sorry I lost it, never again, never.” They both lean back on the couch, he places his arm around her, and she rests her head on his shoulder. This is much better, there seems to be an understanding now everything is in the open.

“Are you sore?”

“Are you kidding, my bum cheeks are on fire, god, you really gave me a good beating. It will take a couple of days to go.”

“Oh, yes, sorry about that. I have no idea what came over me. And the shoulder, the hip is it?”

“Oh not too bad, my shoulder is a bit bruised, and hip, and my lips are a bit sore from when you pulled me to the side, but otherwise, okay I suppose, but my backside is like a lobster, thanks to you, and burning like hell.” She expects another apology, but no, he smiles.

“Good, serves you right, I can rub some…”

“Haha, very funny, yes I’m sure you could, no, that’s taken care of.”

“What about the rest, Emily? You know, the plug, that must have been uncomfortable.”

“Only when you plugged me and it was at its widest point, yes, that’s a bit painful for just a second or two, but after a few minutes it was fine, I know it sounds crazy saying that, but it was. It’s smooth and snug, daft I know, but I was almost unaware of it. But taking it out again, that’s even worse than pushing it in, you have to be a bit careful there.” She shakes her head in memory of it all.

“And the bells, the nipples?”

“My nipples are okay, a little tender as well. And the roof of my mouth is a bit sore, more from when you… banged into me like that, I jerked my head. That tongue depressor really works as a controlling device, I can tell you. Carol is quite the designer. But I feel, how do I say this, very tired obviously, but also very fulfilled as well. I find it hard saying that after I’ve been manhandled like that, but I enjoyed it, I thrived on it. When you were fucking me, so hard, so physically, it was I’m a bit ashamed to say, wonderful. You filled me, stuffed me, hammered me.” She shakes her head, still trying to understand it all. There is a lull for a few seconds.

“I’m meant to be the dom, handing this stuff out. Beatings, butt plugs, nipple clamps, I love it when I have a responsive sub in my hands, and yet, I don’t know, I seem to have a double personality. I find it a bit worrying right now. Well, more than a bit. I’m really not sure what to think. Where do I go from here?”

“Well as you said before, maybe you have to experience it to understand what the subbie is going through. When we were making love, erm…”

“You were fucking me Benson, really hard, your thighs whacking into the backs of mine, so not sure if making love really describes it, but I loved it, if that’s what you mean, yes.” She becomes pensive. “Yes, I did, powerless, completely helpless, having you take me as you wanted, banging me hard from behind, it’s a little frightening at first, for me anyway, but I adjusted and just went with my feelings. That’s all we can do really.” He strokes her hair, she smells of shampoo, and a powerful hint of rubber.

“I certainly did, I was a bit frightened too, for what I was doing to you. I felt as if I was almost raping… well I was, but you could tell, by how long we went, that I loved it, I can’t say why, I must have some personality thing too, I’m normally so controlled, in charge. It shocked me that I could be so forceful.”

“Well, you were certainly in charge of me.”

“I’m not sure I was, no, I should have stopped you running off, but I didn’t want that thing hurting your mouth, stupid of me. But that’s not what I meant, I got a thrill in beating you, smacking that marvellous rubber bottom of yours, again and again. My hand was actually hurting, I almost lost control, I really did give you a beating, didn’t I? And making love… okay, fucking, yes, you trussed up like that, completely vulnerable, so powerless. I am embarrassed to say I loved it so much. I could have gone on…”

“I’m sorry you didn’t,” she chuckles, “Benson, don’t overanalyse, this isn’t one of your murders. You had fun, and so did I, well sort-of, yes, pain and pleasure, I know a lot about dealing that out, not so much being at the receiving end. You were a fantastic lover for me in the mood I was in, because what you did to me is exactly what I wanted… and needed.” She chuckles again and takes a sip of wine. “Bingo, there it is, no shame, no embarrassment, we were each satisfying each other’s desires, and our own. Yes, I was in severe bondage, I could do nothing, absolutely powerless, but that right then, is what I wanted, needed.” She places her hand on his thigh, then moves it up to his groin, slides it between his rubber fly and takes his cock in her palm. Immediately it hardens and she smiles to herself, but then says.

“We were consenting, okay, and that’s all that matters, and who cares if we’re too weird for everyone else. Look I’m tired, tired and sore, in all the right places, I’m going to bed, sun’s about down, you can relax and finish the wine.”

“Sure.”

Bed, And A Morning Chore

He finishes the wine, running over and over, like a looped video, the evening they’d shared. He tidies up, goes upstairs does his ablutions and comes into the bedroom from the bathroom. In the moonlight, she has left the curtains open, he can see she is lying on her side, her back to him, and he can see her red and blue buttocks under the diaphanous rubber. He lies on his side, leaning into her. She raises her arm, leans back, takes his hand and brings it to her mouth, kisses him twice, then places it on her breast.

They talk quietly about the day, their feelings, and how surprised they both are in taking on roles they thought were alien to their natural desires so comfortably.  It now seems all so easy, just lying there, on their sides, very relaxed. He strokes her rubber-covered breasts, her nipples exposed through the rubber bra, her buttocks.

“Ohhh, careful there.” She winces.

“I really am sorry.”

“Don’t be, when I’m in the mood I’ll get you to do it again. God, did I say that?”

As he is dozing off she dips her head under the covers and pulls his cock out from under his shorts. He mumbles something incomprehensive as she licks his member, which immediately begins to harden, and then takes him in her mouth, not sucking or nibbling, just holding him, even humming to herself. She really does love his warm meaty cock, every vein, every contour, and yes, its size.

He places his palm on her head, caressing her as she expertly brings him to orgasm, and then contentedly swallows every drop of his sweet seed. Later on, as he is dozing, he hears her whisper something like quid quo pro? Then suddenly he feels something warm and wet on his mouth and chin, something familiar. She has planted herself on his face. He opens his eyes to see her raise herself from his face, look down and chuckle. She takes his hand and places it on her left breast, as her pussy descends slowly onto his face.

“Feel this? This is my heart, Benson? Well, you have it, my heart and body, unreservedly, now get to work down there.” And his laugh is stifled as she lowers herself on him.

The early summer sun casts a long shadow on the rumpled bed as she wakes up. She feels wonderful, wonder-filled. Her bum is still sore, he really did give her a beating. But they certainly made up for it last night. She is getting to love sucking him, his meaty, muscly hard cock with it’s softer, marshmallow-textured helmet, resting against her larynx. She has completely overcome any gag reflex she may have had, comfortable in taking his whole shaft, swallowing every drop of his warm seed. It tastes of nothing really, she’d read it was meant to be salty, but it isn’t, it’s more sweet, she thinks, or at least to her. And he’s getting rather good as well, at nibbling her labia, nuzzling her, stabbing her clit with his sharp tongue. She has to pinch herself as to how lucky she is.

She turns over… he’s gone. It’s really early, where can he be? There are no sounds in the house. He can’t have left. She gets up, pulling the thin, transparent white rubber around her. From collar to ankles and wrists it covers her, but she’s aware that everything is still very much on show. She passes the window and looks out. And there he is, halfway up the field, her field. He’s stripped to the waist, wearing just his rubber shorts - well that’s interesting - and a pair of wellies he’s brought over to help her in the garden. Like her, he rather enjoys the physical and yet relaxing work there. Just watching him - taut, wiry muscles, not an ounce of fat, sweat on his back and chest – makes her belly warm. He has a pick, a shovel and a spade, and he’s digging around the rock, the offending rock, with serious purpose. He’s already dug down and around 75% of it. It’s not huge but will take some shifting.

She smiles as she goes downstairs to the kitchen. Ten minutes later, she is walking through her garden and into the field, barefoot and still in peephole rubber bra and gossamer thin Victorian nightie. She looks like a heroine from a Jane Austen novel – not! In her hands is a tray, with orange juice and glasses, a couple of warm day-old croissants, jam and a pot of expresso with two small cups, very strong and very hot, the only coffee they drink. He doesn’t hear her approach.

“You know I love seeing you in rubber, the shorts are beautiful but the wellies are a bit of a stretch.” She lowers the tray on the ground and approaches him, and he grins and envelops her.

“Hhmm, manly sweat, glad I have my condom-thin protection on. My Heathcliff or maybe Gabriel Oak. All husky masculinity.” Oh, he is gorgeous, sweaty and solid.

“Very literary. And you, the Lady of Shalott, or ghostly apparition, or one of Miss Austen’s Bennet sisters, no,” she feels his hands on her tender buttocks, “very much flesh and blood.” He gulps his orange and crams the croissant into his mouth in two.

“I’ll be Elizabeth Bennet, if you’ll be my Darcy.” She giggles. “Worked up quite a hunger there.” She smirks. “Or is that from last night?” He sips his coffee, perfect.

“Bit of both I think, oh my goodness you look edible in that. How can you be so virginal and sexy?”

“Victorian nightdress and transparent rubber, an interesting mix, for sure. The reward for honest hard work comes after.” She points to the rock. “You seeking revenge with that?”

“Well, if we’re to continue with the erm, horseplay then it has to go.” Continue? Oh yes, she thinks, that would be wonderful, and she notes he said we’re, not you’re, so that immediately gets her excited. Is he up for more pony play in the future? He takes another sip and returns to the task.

“I think I’m there, how are you feeling? I may need your finely tuned body to help me here, we just slide the shovel and spade under this side and lever it up and out and then help it roll into those bushes there. Shouldn’t be too hard.” In mock outrage, she responds.

“Are you expecting me, dressed like this, to do manual work, with a shovel?” He looks her up and down, devouring her.

“I don’t see any problem here, you look like an Olympic 400 metre runner, with much bigger breasts, thank goodness. You can probably bench-press more than me. Come on.” He hands her the shovel and he takes the spade.

“Okay, on three, one, two, and…”  

She is surprised at how easily the rock is flipped up and then together they lever and roll it to the bushes. He looks rather pleased with himself as they take the equipment back to the garden shed and the tray to the patio, and settle down. They finish their coffee, and juice, not saying much. Already it’s warm and it will be a hot day, no rain like yesterday. She notices he’s staring at her, her breasts, her nakedness under the sheer rubber.

“Do I get my reward now?” She asks.

“I think I’m the one getting the reward.” He replies, smiling.

“Well I’ll do my best.” And she takes his hand. “But first you shower, and then I will have some hanky and you some panky, and then we can shower again.” 

At ten in the morning after their shower, there is a call on his mobile, not another murder? And he is quickly on his way. At the door she joins him, and just holds him for a few seconds, enough for her to feel him harden, which brings an evil smile from her. He takes her face in his hands.

“You do know I love you, don’t you? You are a terrible handful, crazy, funny, beautiful, I can’t…” She places a finger on his lips, then kisses him lightly.

“Get to work, Benson, do what you do best, find that murderer.” Then she pauses, grinning.

“Well, let me think, no, do what you do second best actually, and get back to me, soon.”

She goes to the patio. The sun is quite hot now. Carol and Ruby will be here soon and she will have to get their gear out and prepare the scenes she has planned. Carol will be in full pony gear including rubber suit and mask, bit and bridle, and her own butt plug tail. It will be fun to put her through her paces, now knowing exactly how it feels. And Ruby she decides needs a bit of exercise too, so she will follow the buggy, chained to the rear, in full rubber, corset and mittens, and an ample butt plug, together with chains from nipple clamps. That will keep her alert.

A blackbird lands on her table, coolly appraising her, and her half-eaten croissant. She’s seen him around a lot, christening him Blackie, and she leaves food for him now, he’s got real balls this one. He takes a piece, the largest, cocks his head as if to say, I’ll be back, and is gone. She thinks for a few moments about Joe, poor Joe Kemp, quiet, gentle Joe. If it hadn’t been for him, and his despicable, murderous wife, well this wouldn’t be happening. There would still be Carol, but no Ruby, and no Carol with Ruby. And then, no Benson and Emily. She says a silent thank you to Joe. Out of horror and tragedy, some good does sometimes come.

Time to get ready.

Fun And Games

 A week later Emily and Benson are in bed.

“Hhmm, you look so tasty like that, good enough to eat.”

He looks down at his rubber boxer shorts, his cock hardening and pushing out the front flap. He is getting to like these shorts, a lot.

“Is that a promise?” He grins, still a little self consciously.

“Guaranteed. Taste first and then enjoy the full meal.” She laughs too. He has just come from the bathroom, and she is already in bed, leaning on one elbow, dressed in her white rubber sports bra and white panties, with heart-shaped openings at pussy and arse. He hasn’t seen these before and rather likes them.

“Not taken you long to get nice and hard, you’ll burst those shorts.”

“Well what can I say, all I have to do is look at you.” And he means it, but then….

“You know, you certainly seem to be getting a bit of a thing for the rubber. You kinky devil, you. Come on, it’s not just me, hey, I’m okay with it, frankly it’s been great, couldn’t be better.”

“Well, of course I get hard seeing you in rubber. One, you have a fabulous body and gorgeous face, and two, well let’s not kid ourselves, rubber does something for the female body, enhances it in all the right places. So I see you, in or out of rubber and I get hard, is that so bad?” He feels for some reason that he is being defensive, but why?

“Oh come on Benson, don’t avoid the question, I mean you wearing the rubber, not me. Don’t be so defensive, it’s all okay. Come on, it’s just a material, and you get a kick from it. I know you do. Don’t be all so coy.”

“I’m not defensive, it’s okay, yes, it’s fine. I did like wearing that mask when I took you out in your pony gear, yes, because it gave me anonymity, and made me feel calmer, I was certainly nervous that day, I admit that. So I liked the mask, yes.”

“And what about the thin rubber jodhpurs and hoodie you wore, god Benson, do you think I didn’t notice you had a bloody hard-on all the time, admit it.” She is teasing him terribly, but there is more than a kernel of truth as well, he knows that.

“That’s because you were in your rubber gear, the whole pony girl stuff, of course I was hard, you looked incredible, and when we made love, okay fucked, of course. And yes, I like it when we are in bed and you are wearing it, and I’m in these shorts, okay, so I plead guilty.” He is lying next to her now, both on their sides facing each other, stroking her buttocks. She smiles, as if she’s had a thought.

“So, it’s all really about me, well thank you kind sir, but I wouldn’t be insulted at all if you weren’t getting off on the rubber too. Sorry Benson, maybe I’m picking up on your brilliant technique for knowing a lie when you hear it, but I think that’s bollocks, but I’m okay with it, really. Carry on with your self-delusion, ha ha.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, look Emily.”

“No, let me finish, I have an idea. I am saying I doubt your honesty here, but sometimes we don’t know ourselves how we can be aroused, what is hidden under all those layers. I mean look at me with the sub stuff and the pony girl thing, I never suspected I had that sub gene in me, I’m just saying…” she moves her hand under his boxer shorts, gripping his hard member, “I know we started out not wanting to mix our relationship with my business, but we’ve moved along way from that now, even you would admit that. It would be rather fun to get serious about this stuff, all the rubber, no need to be shy about it. We’ve changed, both of us.” She is now goading him, and he isn’t sure if he should rise to the bait.

“Anyway, how about putting it to the test, hhmm? How about a wager? Come on big guy, put your money where your mouth is.” She is now stroking his hard cock, very lightly with her forefinger. God, she knows how to tease him.

“What do you mean?”

“Okay,” she kisses his neck, whispering, “I say you’re getting into the whole rubber thing, with or without me. And Benson, listen closely here, if you’re not, that’s fine, but if you are I’m really happy with that, it could lead to lots more fun and frolics. And… I think I can put that to the test.” She giggles and licks behind his ear.

“I say this, let me think, now. Say I put you hhmm, into what? How about a full-body rubber suit and mask for, let’s say for five minutes.” She grips his cock a little harder now. “And I bet within that time you’ll have a raging, gorgeous, enormous hard-on, hhmm?” But he isn’t rising to that bait.

“Well obviously I will, because you’ll be there, putting me into it. And anytime you’re near me in rubber you know I’ll get an erection. This isn’t actually fair.”

“Oh no, not fair at all, once I get you in it, zipped up, ha ha, based on past experience you will be hard as flint, but we’ll get you flaccid somehow. I’ll find a way, and then I’ll leave you. So here’s the test, there won’t be me near you to get you horny, ha ha, just you wearing the rubber suit and mask. It will have to be the stables, so I can keep an eye on you on the cctv, and you don’t cheat, like putting your cock under the cold tap, or whatever.” She laughs as she sees him look just a bit worried. “Hhmm, it could work. It’s not exactly a scientific experiment, but it should be interesting. And I think I’ve a good chance of winning.”

“Well I don’t think it’s a very good idea, I’m not a bloody guinea…”

“Hhmm, methinks he doth protest… look, the option is that you just admit it, rubber turns you on, perhaps not hardcore rubber like me. But I can tell it does, and it seems to me you are still harbouring feelings of guilt. Oh dear and we have no place for guilt or shyness in this house. This test is much more fun, and we’ll have very serious and lengthy sex afterwards.” She knows dangling the sex bait will get his attention. He puts up a good defence however, and suddenly seems quite confident, there’s an element of pride at stake here as well.

“Look, spare me the feelings-of-guilt psychobabble all right? But if you want to play the game, well all right then, okay, no harm done I suppose, I’ll do it. I’m pretty sure I can stay flaccid for five minutes, for goodness sake, that can’t be too hard, and just once it will be fun to wipe that smug smile off your beautiful face.”

“Good,” she pecked his cheek, “wipe away, but we’ll see. Now we have to make it interesting, there has to be a prize to the winner,” and she grips his cock, “and that means of course some forfeiture for the loser.”

She is enjoying this, Benson realises, but then Emily is the kind of person who would relish being the loser as much as the winner, these games he knows she loves, what has she to lose?

“Why do I get the feeling you have been planning this for a while? And anyway this isn’t fair, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do, you can be a dom, a sub, a pony, nothing fazes you when it comes to sex, it’s not the same for me.” She snuggles up to him.

“Hhmm, already backing out? You’re past the embarrassment stage, Benson, and you know it, poor defence you have there.  Anyway you’re only part right, as there are things that would make me a bit more uncomfortable than others, you just have to guess them.” She kisses his cheek. “Benson, you seem pretty sure you’re going to win this, not getting a hard-on, eh?” He turns and kisses her, moving his head down to her exposed nipple.

“We’ll, maybe not that sure, but I think I know myself, yes.”

“I’m not sure any of us really know ourselves, but that’s a bit Freudian I think. Okay, vacillating over, are you going to be man enough, hhmm? Or are you going to chicken out?” She raises a breast, gripping the rubber bra so he could get his mouth round her nipple.

“You hold all the cards here, but you always have, really.” He bites her, just a tiny nibble.

“Ow, are you mad at me? Am I meant to feel sorry for you?” She swats his head playfully.

“No, just letting you know this isn’t a fair fight. But I’ll play along, all right, because Emily… I love you, sometimes I can’t believe you would even be with a dull plod like me, and I pinch myself every day when I come and see you, and I probably would do anything for you, yes, anything. And I think you know that.”

She grips his head and brings it to hers, kissing him hard, almost violently. He can see there are actually tears in her eyes.

“Oh, you big dope. And that’s why I love you too, because you just said that, and meant it. And if you think this won’t be fun, you’re crazy, it will be arousing, interesting, perhaps a little frightening, ooooh, even a bit painful, aaaah, but fun, whoever wins. You think I would make the man I love do things that would make him unhappy?” She kisses him hard again.

“Yes, I can come up with a test or two for you, of course, but nothing I know you can’t handle, Benson, you may think you can’t, but I know you can, that’s who I am, and who you are. I wouldn’t dream of saying I know you better than yourself, but I would say that you don’t know yourself as well as you think you do. Yeah, a bit more Freud, I know. You’re with me, Benson, so believe me, I’m not going to allow anything to go wrong?” She lies back beside him, almost spent after that long speech.

“Okay, get a couple of pieces of paper and two pencils. We’ll write down what we will do to each other if we win, it has to be within reason Benson, all right, I’m not a monster.” He rose, his hard cock pushing out the front of his shorts and returned a minute later. They lay in bed together, knees raised, pencils ready.

“When we’re done, we sign the others, no backing out. All right, I’m ready.” She looks rather pleased with herself, and Benson wonders again if she’s planned this all along. He realises he is way out of his depth with this woman, and at least most of the time, he is quite content with that.

“Oh god, give me a few minutes, will you? I know whatever I come up with it won’t be a forfeiture for you, you’ll just lap it up. Me, I’m in for some serious shit, no doubt.” She laughs at this, grabbing his cock playfully.

“That’s the idea Benson, entering into the spirit of it, ha ha, of course you won’t have to worry, if that cock of yours behaves, but then it might have a mind of its own. Ready?” She is already writing, looking at him, while he is trying to think of something – anything - that just might at least keep her on edge, take her out of her comfort zone.

“Okay, want to swap?” And they do, both silent. Benson reads Emily’s with a quiet groan.

You, my darling lover, will be my pony, my valiant and brave steed, my mount, my big-cocked stallion, for the period of two hours. I will decide the clothing, rubber of course, and the tack. Don’t panic, my love, we will stay within the confines of the walled garden, but you will pull my buggy and do any other exercises I require, and I will admire your masculine beauty.

She sees his face, shock, and even a little anger at being conned into this.

“Don’t look so shocked, you should have seen this coming, anyway it’s okay, you’ll be out of sight so don’t panic and,” she kisses his neck, “you’ll actually like it, I know you will. But I haven’t won yet, if you don’t want to be my gorgeous muscled hunk of horseflesh then you had better concentrate hard - that’s maybe not the right word - when I get you in the rubber suit and mask. Now yours is quite, erm interesting. Sounds like loads of fun, all girls like to do this, but I have a feeling my lover has some ulterior motive behind this, I wonder if it is going to be such a breeze, I have a feeling it might not be. what have you up your sleeve, you devious devil?” She then reads it aloud.

You and I will go shopping, for a minimum of four hours one weekend afternoon. We will go on a miserable rainy day, it will be more fun in the rain. I will select the shops we frequent, after consulting with you of course, and I will select your clothes for you.

“So you select the shops and the clothes, what fun is that for me? Is there a catch here, I wonder? Will you pay for them as well?” She jokes, but he nods, and for a second she thinks that perhaps there is something behind his generosity. Or is he just a wonderful man, that she loves? Well, he is, but is he a wonderful man with a naughty, devious mind?

Oh god, she hopes so!

Benson Put To The Test

The next Sunday, Benson comes around. He has cleared up the murder, it had been straightforward, best described by the old adage, follow the money. So now at least Emily is able to see him, uninterrupted hopefully. It is a nice sunny day and she is quite convinced her lover will fail the test she has set for him. She is determined to trot him round the walled garden in the bright sun, oh yes, and maybe he might even like that.

They have a leisurely lunch on the patio and without any warning Emily suggests they do the test. It has been a light lunch and purposely she hasn’t produced any alcohol, she wants him sharp, and if (when?) he should fail, she doesn’t want him making any excuses, not that he would, she thinks. She is surprised at his reaction, for he agrees to do it without complaint, maybe he has an inkling she would pull this on him now. But it doesn’t matter, and so they both go to the stables, and it is when Benson starts to undress that she can see him begin to get a bit jumpy. As he stands in the middle of the room, now naked, she takes a brilliant black rubber suit that is draped over the whipping horse.

“Oh, you’re going to look so gorgeous in this. Come on, get some talc on, you’ll need lots, this is super-tight. Looks like you’re going to lose the bet already.” She chuckles as she sees him harden.

“That’s just you.” He says quickly.

“Okay, okay, I’m flattered, anyway, we’ll see.” She holds open the suit and he slips his feet through one legging and then the other, settling his feet in the attached socks, then eases out any air bubbles. Then she moves behind him, pulling up the hips.

“This is crazy, I don’t know why I agreed to this.” He mumbles.

“Because you love me, ha ha. Wow, have you put weight on? This is tight, okay lean back and slip a hand through the sleeve here, good, now the other, okay, now lean forward.” Once his arms are in the sleeves all that is needed is to pull his cock and balls through the crotch opening and then zip him up to under his chin. Much to Emily’s amusement this proves not quite so easy as planned, as he has a long thick erection.

“Here, let me.” She giggles.

“Ow, ow! Be careful, will you?”

“Well it’s your fault.” And expertly she prises his cock and then balls through the opening and now his cock points out horizontally. She kisses the soft head and pats it playfully, then she takes a matching mask in black rubber and goes behind him.

“This will be tight too, much as I love your face, I do like to see you masked like this.” He dips his head into the cool rubber, now familiar with the smooth grip, and she zips it down to his neck, tucking it under the collar of the suit. Then she stands back.

“Oh wow, look at yourself in the mirror there, phew, I’m getting moist just looking at you.”

The reflection he sees even shocks him a little. The black rubber looks as if it has been painted on, then lacquered to a brilliant, gleaming sheen. Every muscle, every joint is visible, not a wrinkle can be seen. And how does he feel? Every pore is covered, only his hands, eyes and mouth are visible, and of course his cock and balls. It caresses him, invisibly strokes him, clings to him, it is cool at first, making him shiver, but only for a couple of minutes, now he is warming up and well, snug. He is aware that his cock has not softened and knows immediately, aware of his feelings now, he may be losing this bet. She approaches him, placing a hand around his waist, avoiding his stiff member.

“When I bought this, especially for you, I really hoped you would try it on and like it. I knew it would be really tight and snug, but you look just… fabulous.” She hugs him tightly, aware of his cock pressing on her abdomen, she pecks his cheek. “Phew, okay, we have to concentrate, there’s a wager on here. One I’m going to win, I think.” She squeezes his buttock. “So we have to get rid of this in order that we have a fair test.” She gently pats his cock, then goes to the kitchen and returns with a gel pack, and without warning, wraps it around his cock.

“Ow, ow, god. Oooh.” He leaps up onto his toes, and places hands on her shoulders.

“Ha ha, care to dance?” But Emily holds it there and after a minute or so he is flaccid.

“Okay big guy, here’s the timer, I’ll put five minutes on it, like so. Are you ready? I’ll go to the living room and leave you here to your devices.” She looks around her stables, at all the equipment and the rubber clothing and accessories, and she knows he is going to be in trouble.

“Maybe you’ll find something of interest, but then you have to remain soft, don’t you? Well, good luck.” She confidently pats his tight rubber buttocks and leaves.

He knows immediately he was zipped into the suit that he was going to probably lose this bet. He had no premonition that he would have reacted like that. The last time he wore a full body suit was “that night” and although he had an erection, he really had put it down to Emily’s warm, wet mouth around his cock. But maybe she is right, she usually is, that there is something in him that even he is not aware of. He likes the gossamer thin rubber jodhpurs and top he’d worn when he’d taken Emily out as a pony, and he is getting used to the masks, the anonymity allowing him to act more freely. Emily is right, why the hell should he be wracked with guilt about dressing like this? In truth, the guilt is lessening every time he sees her, every time they make love, and he is dressed, not always but quite often now, in rubber boxer shorts and sometimes even a mask. It is fun, dammit!

But he really doesn’t want to lose the bet, she is nearly always right, it would be nice to get the better of her once in a while. He’s not sure he really wants to be her pony, her stallion. The idea of prancing around her garden, dressed in skin tight rubber, oh, well maybe it does appeal, just a bit, silly though that sounds. But he’s determined to prove her wrong, at least just this once. So he closes his eyes, tries to concentrate on something bland. But he can’t, he just can’t. The smell of the rubber in the stables is very strong, and very inch of his body is being caressed by the smooth material. He opens his eyes and as if something is forcing him, he moves through the room, past the vacuum bed hanging from the rafters, the whipping horse, even the gyn/ob chair, to one of the full-length closets. Without really thinking he opens it and sees all the clothing arrayed inside on hangers and shelving, he expels a deep breath.

He closes it immediately, no, no, he whispers, I can do this, it’s just five minutes. Just get your mind off this stuff, and the suit, and the mask, and… oh no. He can feel himself harden just a little. Concentrate, stay calm, but it is no good, as he moves and the second skin clings to his every pore, caressing him, he stiffens and stiffens. He sees himself in the mirror, and that doesn’t help, as if a statue had been lacquered in shimmering black. Concentrate, concentrate.

Too late, too late, he is hard - his body, his cock has betrayed him.

“It was a laudable try, Chief Inspector, but you can’t overcome who you are, not many of us can.” She has entered silently and is teasing him a bit, the Chief Inspector bit, but in her expression there is some compassion, some empathy there, after all she’s found a lot about herself during her pony ride and afterwards as well. He turns and not surprisingly his cock rises further. She stands in the door, already she has changed, into a rubber outfit. He nods his head ruefully. It hasn’t taken her long, four minutes?

“You must have been pretty confident I would fail.”

“Don’t feel bad about it, my sweet. Let’s say I know my man, and what a gorgeous sight he is too.”

She is wearing a gunmetal rubber shirt, tight in the bust and waist, with a high collar, and with loose short sleeves elasticated at her biceps; a skirt, black and flared to above her knees; gunmetal stockings (he assumes), black gloves tucked under the elasticated sleeves, and high, very high ankle granny boots. She wears no makeup, she doesn’t need any. A lump rises in his throat, she is stunning.

Benson The Stallion

“So, I am calling in my wager,” she moves to him, very businesslike now, “we should do it right now, Benson, I can see you will be fretting over it if we don’t, you silly boy. You will have fun, have I ever lied to you, ever?”

“Well, as a matter of fact yes, when I was investigating Mr. Kemp’s…ow!” She had grips his erect cock and is inches from his masked face.

“Please don’t joke about that Benson, not that. You are right, but I was talking about us, us dammit, you and me, as an item, for we are that, aren’t we?” She is quite serious now. “You will get off on this, so stop vacillating and get these on for a start.” She has retrieved a pair of black boots from the closet, knee high and with hoof soles.

“You can’t expect me to…”

“They’re much easier than they look, believe me, the toe section is quite large and your instep and heel are supported on the curved steel sole. While you’re getting those on I’ll get the rest of your tack.” As he leans against the whipping horse, realising he has put up no resistance whatsoever, she goes about her business.

“This is insane, I will look pretty daft in these, I should never have agreed to this, and how did you get a pair of these to fit me anyway?” He pouts.

“Don’t be a wimp, Benson. Get on with it. I now have a couple of male clients who I’ve persuaded to play pony games, so I have some black leather tack and the straps are adjustable, should fit you a treat.” He has now got the boots on and is surprised how well they fit both his feet and calves, he stands, expecting to tip over or at least wobble, but again is surprised at how comfortable he is, he doesn’t wobble at all, placing one foot in front of the other. The only strange thing is that he is now three or four inches higher than before. He walks around slowly, aware that he looks rather silly, his hard cock still sticking out from the rubber suit, but he turns and sees Emily smiling broadly.

“Hhhm, we’ll have to lose that if you’re trotting, you’ll beat your thighs blue.” She laughs. “All right, I have most of it now, so first I want you standing just there in the middle of the stretching frame, my sweet.” She grins and he can see she is now in her element, this is her domain. He remembers the steel frame from before, when he nearly met his maker, if it hadn’t been for Emily saving… well anyway.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to stretch you out, rather the opposite actually, now grip the cross-bar there, okay, good.” He has said hardly anything since his lost wager and he’s well aware that she is going to hold him to it, and being a gentleman, he is prepared for that now, but still he is feeling perhaps a bit in shock, and mad at himself, but now he can see Emily in her element; efficient, professional and of course gorgeous. As she wraps a heavily boned corset around his waist, he says.

“Look, is all this really necessary? I can pull you around in the buggy like this, all right?”

“But then you wouldn’t be a pony, would you. No, Benson, you get the whole gear. You lost the bet, suck it up! Don’t think I don’t love your body as it is, but the corset is for deportment, not to draw in your waist, although it does that as well, all right, so I’ll start pulling in the sides.” Very soon she has drawn his waist in, it extends from under his nipples to his hips and he notices immediately that his breathing is a little shorter.

“Okay, good, all done with that, now the neck corset, or posture collar, and as the name says, it is for posture, keeping you nice and upright, facing forward, you’ll find your motion will be limited, just a little up and down and to the sides.” Now she wraps the collar around his neck, strapping it quite tight, and then connects the straps from the corset to the collar front and back, and very quickly he is feeling more restricted.

“I’m getting a feeling that I’m not going to like all this, I feel like I’m in a vice.”

“Don’t be silly, you look good enough to eat… but more on that later.” She laughs, now very much in her element. In between pulling on the straps and buckling, she strokes him, his thighs, his buttocks, his face. She does this perhaps to put his mind off the fact that he is falling deeper and deeper into inescapable bondage. Now for the mitts, she draws one over one hand and then the other, and then looks into his eyes.

“Now, my sweet, hands behind back, please.” He could argue, just stopped right then, enough, no more, but she places the lightest of kisses on his lips and he draws his hands behind him, then feels her bring them up behind his back, higher and higher, until she fastens them to his collar. Now there is no hope of escape, none - she has him completely under her control, and despite how much he loves and trusts her, he’s just a bit nervous.

“You are much more flexible than most men, very impressive, you look absolutely wonderful now, and of course completely within my power.” She says, as if reading his mind, kisses him again. Then she draws the series of straps over his head and shoulders, adjusting them, buckling them to the neck corset, until they all fit snugly, the ends of the bridle now sit either side of his mouth and the blinkers already limit his vision to the sides.

“And I can do anything I want with you. Anything. So before you start trying to persuade me that you’ve had enough, blah blah, I think we’ll get you bitted and shut you up properly.”

“Look Emily, can we hold it there, you can take me out in the buggy now and…aaaaargh, aaagh, aaah.’’ He shakes his head as much as he can, but in seconds his mouth is spread apart by the rubber coated steel bit.

“You see, that’s exactly what I knew you would do, and you didn’t read the contract did you? Clothes and tack of my choosing. Oh, and I haven’t finished yet. You are lucky with that bit, it’s a simple rubber covered steel rod with a short, curved steel cover for your tongue, keeps you under control. But not with the nasty barbs like I had, think yourself lucky, I’m being lenient with you.” She playfully slaps his buttock. Right now, he doesn’t feel lucky at all, and aaaahhhes his displeasure, which she completely ignores as she rummages in another drawer. God, he must look ridiculous.

“Come over here.” She said quietly, but there is an order tone behind it, and he has no option but to clop over to the whipping horse.

“Now lean over.” He aaaahed, and shakes his head as well as he can, he has an idea what is coming. No, he really doesn’t want this, but how can he communicate that to her now? And will she care anyway? He feels a firm hand on his back thrust him forward, and he loses his balance, landing on the top of the horse.

“Silly boy.” She said coolly, and as he tries to adjust and get his balance he feels two straps quickly whip around his ankles and pull them to the legs of the horse. In seconds he is spread-eagled over the horse, his legs pulled wide, his buttocks very vulnerable. Now she is stroking him again, whispering, calming him down.

“Okay, I understand that little tantrum, you’ve only had one of these in your bum once, and that was a very unhappy time for all. But my gorgeous pony, you’re going to be butt-plugged now.’

“Aaaaaagh.” He shakes his head, wriggles his ankles, but can do little more. No, he certainly didn’t expect this at all. This is insane! Emily had been in a bit of a quandary before this. She knows that having a plug pushed in his rear will be unpleasant, at first she hopes anyeay. The rubber she thought he would accept all right, and the boots and maybe the bit, but she knows the butt plug is definitely more personal, and invasive. Nonetheless she decides that she will proceed as planned.

“No use having a pony without a tail. I have selected a fairly small plug, and you will look great with Carol’s lovely hair sprouting from your rear. I have lubed it nicely, so relax Benson, all right, calm and relaxed. You lost the bet and now you have to pay the piper.” He aaaahhs loudly, angrily as he feels the end of the plug press into his sphincter, he also feels her caressing his buttocks, trying to calm him, but the plug inexorably presses on and quickly he is aaaahhing in discomfort. She continues to press.

“Aaaaaah!”

“Almost there, and…” In it sinks, to the narrow neck.

“Good man, good pony, well done my love, there, it wasn’t that bad, now was it?” she pats his buttock, soothing him. Well yes, he wants to tell her it was unpleasant, but that’s far too late. She releases him and he glares at her prepared to give her a nasty kick. This she seems to anticipate as she now hobbles his ankles with a six inch chain.

“We use these to calm the ponies, when they get skittish, and I can see you are definitely not a happy pony. But what are we going to do with this? I do like you under my complete control, and by complete, I mean complete.” She holds his cock in her gloved hand, and he is astonished to see it is still erect.

“You can come up with any excuse, dear gorgeous pony, but this tells another story, yes? Erection means ardour, excitement, not fear or nerves, and so despite your predicament, you are aroused, or is it because of it.” She strokes his masked head, he shakes it in anger, but there’s no denying his hard cock.

“Well never mind, actually we do have a problem with it, tasty though it is. I’m not having you walk and trot like this, much as love it. It simply won’t be comfortable for you, thrashing about.” And she turns to her set of drawers, selecting something and returns to him, snuggles up, resting herself against his chest. He would like to have hated her for all this, but of course he doesn’t, and he knows he is in good hands, literally.

“Now, I could use the gel pack again, but you know Benson, you’ve done very well, you’ve taken it all in your stride, the rubber suit and mask, the corsets, bridle and bit, and the butt plug and tail, without a murmur. I know it is a shock for you but if it is any consolation, my goodness you look a fabulous pony, well, stallion, so you deserve a treat. No, no lump of sugar or carrot, something much better.” And then with a delicious smile she dips out of sight and he feels her warm, wet lips and then her mouth envelop him, oh god, he gasps, and thinks, this is one extraordinary woman. As she licks, sucks, encloses him, she begins to talk, interspersing it between licks and nibbles, coolly and very matter-of-factly.

“You know Benson… I never considered myself… very adept at this… not having much experience… but being with you has not… only given me confidence… I realise… that I rather enjoy having a… no, your cock, your sweet, tough muscle… to suck on. Believe me… I don’t do this for any pony… oh no, just you.” Now she takes a breath and sucks him deeply into her throat, all the way to his root, her nose pressed to the rubber covering his crotch. She holds it for a few seconds, then pulls back.

“And I think… that I’m becoming more... proficient, I hope so… I do. Because benson, I want to please you, I do. And the other thing… it’s not just your size, which is wonderful… I rather like the taste of… you, it’s not unpleasant at all.” Again, she takes him to his root, his thick member well down her throat, but she doesn’t gag or wretch, she grips and strokes his taut rubber buttocks and holds him, until she withdraws and inch or two, and with a gush, he comes. She doesn’t pull back, but takes every drop of his warm sperm, then like a cat with cream, she licks him clean.

“Hhmm, I liked that and it’s done the trick too.” As he softens, he feels her hands under his ball sac and then something cool and metallic grip the base of his balls.

“Aaaaah.” She can see him suddenly try to move, to step back, but the ankle hobble chain keeps him quite still.

“Don’t panic Benson, easy now, these are just to keep you from thrashing side to side. Firstly, I have locked a steel tube, or deep ring around the base of your balls. It’s about an inch long and a half an inch in diameter. It pulls your balls down, and your skin becomes tighter, makes them nice and sensitive.” He hears a click.

“Okay, now the last piece of your control devices is a cock cage or male chastity device.”

“Aaaaah!” He shakes his head. “Aaaah.”

“Don’t get upset Benson, this is just for the ride. It’s not permanent, why would I keep this beautiful muscle locked away permanently? I will slide your cock through a series of steel rings welded together by two horizontal rods. You are a beauty, large and muscly, and this chastity device is the largest I have, but it should work all right. Ha ha, maybe I’ll have to get one made especially for you. Good, we made it, now I will lock this to your ball tube, like so, and voila, you are under my complete control, no erections for you now, my sweet.” He can immediately feel the series of steel rings pulling down his cock, and the steel tube stretching his balls, god, this is crazy.

“Aaaaaaah.” Not much of a vocabulary he thinks dryly.

“Calm down now, remember you’re with me here, okay? Now in the perfect world, which is my clients and I, well I require them to be completely hairless down here, so the ball sac is very tight, and almost translucent, and the poor trapped balls very sensitive.”

“Aaaaaaah!”

“It’s okay Benson, I won’t do that to you. I don’t force my clients, ever, they want this, they choose this. But the fact is, when this rather, let’s face it, unattractive ball sac is bald, it actually looks so much better, easier to clean and the tube doesn’t get caught in anything. Benson I’m not going to force you to do anything, you have your profession, going to the gym etcetera, and this would arouse suspicion no doubt, so I realise depilation might not work for you, at least for now.” She is now facing him, inches from his bridled and bitted face, very much the dominatrix, the cool professional. He can see why her male clients, and female for that matter, could be so intimidated, and yet in love with her.

“But you would look rather good, smooth and bald here. Some of my male clients, single men, wear these chastity devices in between sessions. I send them out, locked in chastity, back to their homes, their professions, for several days, maybe more than a week sometimes. Why on earth would they do this?” She strokes his buttocks. “Because they love and respect their mistress. They will do this to please her. I don’t force them, they do it to please me. And they get turned on by knowing, as they go about their business out there, that they are in chastity, under the control of the mistress, who is miles away, and the rest of society has no idea.” She strokes his quivering thigh. “It’s all rather exciting for them, this subterfuge, the fear of discovery can be exciting as well. Don’t worry Benson, I don’t plan that for you, remember what I said, it will always be your decision.” As she says this she has taken three small bells, and clipped one to a ring under his chin and the other two to the ends of his bit. Now she strokes his buttocks again, running her hand through the blonde/grey tail sprouting from his rear.

“Remember these? If you were wearing a suit with nipple cutouts I could clip these onto them, just like you did to me. But for today, I think we have enough tack on, don’t you? Enough for you to be under my complete control. Come on my beauty, let’s get you between the buggy shafts and see how you do. We’re going to take it really easy, no running like I did, stupid, stupid me, although,” she smiles, remembering that day, “afterwards it was the best fucking I’ve ever had.”

story continued in part 8
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