For Moline nothing could compare with the atmosphere of a busy ponygirl stable - that glorious delirium of female flesh, naked, bound and harnessed, being prepared for a long day's work. That morning he had risen early, reaching the stables in time to help with the harnessing of his team. From the moment he had entered the main hall of the stables, the scents and sights that met him had aroused him. A couple of stable-sluts were just leading four naked brunette ponies down the central aisle. One of the sluts, a dark-blonde girl named Vicky, saw him immediately. Slave-trainers were like gods to these girls, and straightaway she fell to her knees and put her head to the floor, her companion acting likewise.

Trained slaves in their twenties, stable-sluts were little more than lust-fodder for the stable lads, boys of about eighteen who had just started work in the Princess's employment, and for whom the stables were their first job. Being only youngsters these lads found it difficult to control their excitement at handling the lush bodies of the pony-women. The ponies themselves were strictly out of bounds to their cocks and so the stable-sluts were provided for them to use as they wished. Naturally, they found themselves often thrown on the rape-racks and spread for use.

Kneeling there, Vicky felt rather than saw the slave-master's steps approach. Her heart beat with a mixture of terror and excitement. He was wearing a loose silky shirt and open-fronted johdpurs and his cock had begun to uncurl and lift with pleasure the moment he arrived. This slut had seen that. How she longed for such a cock inside her! Vicky could hardly say she was starved of sex but, although she enjoyed the gracefully curving, ever-erect cocks of the lads, the sight of a slave-master's heavy and thick rod gave her such a sense of excitement in her belly that she wanted to cry out with lust. She longed just to kiss his shoes. If only he would grab her by the hair and thrust his great cock into her eager mouth... But she had to remain still and obedient with her bottom high and her legs parted, kneeling beside her companion, kissing the ground he walked on. She knew he'd ignore her - and even that excited her.

These sluts wore very little in the service of the stables. Their upper bodies were naked, leaving their breasts bared. Their johdpurs were open at the crotch, really just two leggings joined only at the waistband to reveal the whole of their tummy and pussy-mound, and also the split peach of their bottoms. Their hands were chained in front of them, the wrist cuffs connected by a few short links. They wore cunt-straps, a leather belt around the waist with a single narrow strap passing between their legs - pulled tightly up into their pussies. To make sure the tension on the belts was firm enough, a panel of heavy red rubber was sown into the cunt-strap - at the front, just below the buckle. When the tension was sufficient, an inch or so of red rubber showed. It was impossible to fake. Work slaves like these stable-sluts often wore them, though they could quickly be released if a trainer of guest wanted to use the girl. For Vicky, the tightness of the strap pulled up between the lips of her pussy only made her the more excited. She was wet with desire now, longing only for a sight of him, a glance at his arousal.

Of course, Moline had scarcely bothered to notice her or her companion, so intently was he studying the four brunette ponygirls in their charge. Their leads, attached to the heavy gold ring that pierced the outer lips of their cunts - just below the Princess's clear and sharply-marked brand - were still held in the hands on the kneeling sluts. Ponycunts, mere animals, were not expected to kneel before masters.

Moline reached out and ran his hands appreciatively over their newly-varnished bodies. Each girl stood still, her legs parted respectfully, a watchful expression in her wide-open eyes. Their hands were linked behind their backs - permanently linked there with manacles brazed onto their wrists - and in their mouths they wore the leather pads of loose-gags, though it was unlikely that any of these trained ponycunts would try to speak. Once they had moved to the stables, the Princess deemed them to be animals, and by her express command they were strictly forbidden speech.

Every ponygirl in the stables had been personally chosen for her task by the Princess. Their bodies were pierced with harness fixings under her supervision, and she herself branded each girl with her marks. Moline, sometime stable-master himself, had witnessed the branding ceremony many times. Dressed in an exotic costume of red and black which yet left much of her lovely physique nude, the Princess would take up the branding iron from the fire, flourishing it in front of the row of terrified slave-girls, before applying the first of two brands to each girl, directly onto her shaven pussy-mound where it swelled just above the groove of their pussies. Applied over a pink dye, the first brand took the form of a rose, its pretty and delicate form no consolation to the suffering victim. The ponygirl, bound tightly, her hips fastened firmly into an upright cradle which permitted her no movement, screamed in agony while the Princess, showing no emotion but firmness and resolution, held the burning iron to the naked, tender flesh and looked steadily into the girl's tear-filled eyes.

When each girl had received her pink rose, the iron was applied again, this time over a blue dye, crossing the first mark in the shape of a pony-whip, the blade curled around the handle. The resulting brand-marks, elegant and colourful, openly proclaimed the Princess's ownership of each sobbing girl.

Moline enjoyed the smooth feel of their bodies, their lacquer shining in the bright light of the high stable windows. He liked the way they stood, patiently tolerating his hands caressing them. He slipped his hands between their legs, under their heavy cunt-rings, feeling the hard metal of the smaller rings piercing their soft inner lips, and the moistness of their pussies. He looked into their elegant faces, each one carefully made-up with darkened eyes and bold red lips under the gloss of their lacquer. A golden ring was fitted neatly through the septum of their noses. He cupped their breasts, squeezing them in his hands and checking the nipple studs he had directed to be fitted for his jaunt that morning. These were two short bars passed through the piercings of the girls' nipples, each bar having a wide head on the outer side of the breast, the inner ends able to be locked into each other, fastening the nipples together. The ponies' breasts were big and full, and the effect would be wonderfully sexy, pulling the two breasts into one firm mound, a good target for the whip. At the moment the girls' breasts hung unfastened, separate, excitingly round and thrust forward for the inspection of his hard-fingered hands.