When it is apparent that the performance of the ponies is maximized, Lady Constance puts the whip into its holder and graciously reaches forward. There, the once menacing, evil-hand gently pats and kneads the glistening wet buttocks of her charges.
“Good boys!”
We round a curve, enter another tunnel of lush, flowering vegetation and a house comes to view. Its proximity signals to the ponies that their anguished endeavors are coming to a close and they accelerate in unison in order to avoid further torment.
“Welcome to Estovia, Doctor. It’s somewhat quaint but I’ve become quite comfortable here over the years. Especially since we developed a more consistent supply of electricity. I imagine you saw the windmill from the boat. Before I had that installed, power generation was performed by manual labor. The costs of whips alone was incredible. But my great grandmother found it amusing. She was known to spend many a casual afternoon sipping mint juleps and watching the males being worked by her staff to turn the generators. Now we have more interesting activities for them.”
Lady Constance laughs softly with her description and indeed, the vision of the regal Baroness, lying in the cool shade while dozens of naked, restrained male’s labor as beasts of burden in the hot tropical sun, whipped relentlessly by the firm hands of callous Bagandan women, is thought provoking.
The chariot arrives at a porte-cochere. Lady Constance reaches down and grasps the cords leading to the scrotal sacs. She pulls. The flesh stretches towards us, and the chariot slows. The human ponies knowingly pull our vehicle to a worn spot in the soil where Lady Constance embarks and disembarks with regularity.
“Cruel, one would think. But let me show you something.”
We step off and I follow my hostess to the side of the left pony.
“Kneel.”
Both simultaneously drop in response. The chariot tilts slightly downward and the ponies, formerly leaning forward at the waist to maximize their pulling efforts, right themselves in a practiced movement.
Lady Constance leans over and unhooks the massive phallus, secured to the small ring on the abdomen by the Prince Albert piercing. It is amazingly engorged. Despite the liberal application of the thin whip, to the nipples, scrotum and the penis itself, the human pony is tumefied.
Lady Constance kneads the left nipple with her left hand and toys with the pony’s penis with her right. The purple tip is oozing prostatic fluid as she coos indiscernible words of encouragement in his ear, and the massive beast struggles in his bonds to snuggle closer to his mistress. Amazingly, he seeks comfort in nuzzling the woman who has just unmercifully whipped his sensitive privates and pulled on his bridled head like a farm animal.
“As you can see, Doctor, my pony boys enjoy the touch of my whip and the pride of pleasing their mistress. Their fluid flows with abundance when they’re excited.”
As she speaks, Jasmine’s chariot passes by and stops ahead. She is standing with powerful legs well parted. A naked porter kneels at each foot, arms wrapped about her large thighs for support. Their heads are locked together and judging from the bobbing motion, there appears to be a rather vigorous contest to determine whose tongue can provide the most satisfying oral service.
Meanwhile, I turn back to see that Lady Constance has rescued the stiff manhood and is slipping the bits out of the mouths of her team. No sooner done, then the heads crane forward and hungrily lick Lady Constance’s breasts. She better positions herself and each pony mouth draws in a nipple and as much of her ample breasts as possible. Her fingers toy with their sore nipples and the ponies shuffle their knees closer and frottage their entrapped penises against her calves.
“The complete chastity does wonders for their behavior. They are as strong as oxen yet gentle as lambs. They’ll nuzzle and frottage until the penis bands get too tight, then they’ll begin to yelp and back away.”
I look down at the left pony to see that in fact the mammoth head has grown even further and yet is somewhat constricted by the metal band encircling the shaft just under the tip.
Lady Constance closes her eyes with the ecstasy, her nipples being so sensuously caressed by two giants, trained and whipped into complete submission, there to please not to be pleasured.
After several more moments, the left pony does indeed cringe in pain and pull away. Lady Constance laughs and moves her hand under the brief garment covering her pudendum. She returns it to the nose and lips of the whining pony. The fingers are wet with her essence and she coats his nose and lips, leaving the frustrated creature with a strong reminder of her feminine fragrance.
The right pony suckles a little more than similarly draws back in pain. Lady Constance also rewards his efforts with a moist reminder of her excitement.
A native girl steps from the front door. She is completely naked. With her short stature she appears very young, but large breasts indicate otherwise. Her short hair also makes her appear younger than her years. She smiles brightly at the lascivious scene and her teeth appear attractively bright juxtaposed against her smooth blemish free dark skin.
Lady Constance blindfolds her ponies and looks up to the pleasant native girl.
“Ah, Botana. They need to be watered, rubbed down and treated to some good-sized plugs. They’re standing nicely for me but need some draining.”
The young girl energetically steps forward. She releases the right pony from the chariot as Lady Constance does the left. When finished, the completely naked girl bends over and gathers up the four cords attached to the scrotal sacs. I cannot help but visually examine her as she does so. Her rounded buttocks have the most modest of fat layers and the muscles move in quite a sordid manner. The strong legs are obviously the result of fresh air, sunshine, and the ability to exercise daily in the sunny Caribbean weather, imbuing the cute young girl with a very firm, athletic but feminine figure.
She arranges the ends of the cords in her left hand, turns and walks. The cords become taut, the long scrotal sacs rise in response, and with the feeling of tension, the two ponies in turn rise from their knees and obediently follow the slight tugs. This young native girl leads away the two docile giants. Blindfolded, they step in unison, and it is an astonishing scene to see the figures of two powerful males being led about by their testicles, with a diminutive naked girl holding the leash.
We step toward the house. The porters rush ahead with my bags. I cannot help but notice moisture on their lips and around their mouths. Number two has a wet nose.
“Good sized anal plugs will help the ponies relieve their swollen prostates of all that fluid. Just a little treat for them after a good run.
“If you’d care to change and relax for awhile, Doctor, I have lunch planned for 1:00 p.m. by the pool. Dr. Reinhold will join us. I think you’ll enjoy meeting her.”
With my startled reaction to the name, I have no choice but to explain my response to hearing of the infamous Doctor Reinhold.
“No. You’ll meet her daughter, Helga. Emily Reinhold passed away years ago. But she did spend her final days here establishing many of our procedures and training Helga. A very talented woman.”