Atonement
by SirJeff
- inspired by the Kirk Scott illustration, which itself was originally inspired by a visit to my website.
- do not use without the author's and artist's permission.
Michelle was a stunningly beautiful young woman of twenty from the City of Lights, Paris. She was capable of turning any man's head and she knew it. She used her power shamelessly to make young men do whatever her whim of the moment happened to be. She would to dump them within days, enjoying the look in their eyes and taking great pleasure in their crushed egos. She travelled widely, enjoying the high she got from the repeat of such behaviour in town after town.
Finally, there was a man who saw through her behaviour and won her heart. That was Robert Chanteur, the son of the wealthy mayor of the town of Saint Hubert, in Provence.
Though far far more discretion was called for in this conservative town than in Paris, and Robert begged her to use common sense, she was headstrong and she could had always had her way before at the snap of her fingers. But alas Robert, her chosen lover, was a married man. And her flaunting of the townfolk's sensibilities eventually brought her down. She was pointed to by all as The Adulteress, an embarrassment to all of Saint Hubert.
And so it came to pass that the Comte de Saint Hubert was called upon to try and, if found guilty, pass judgement on the adulteress. The punishments were one of two kinds, depending on the severity of the deed. The worse punishment, for the incorrigible, was immediate public stoning to death. But if there was thought to be any chance of atonement and redemption, the punishment was a year of public humiliation and bondage.
The day before Michelle's trial was to begin, the worldly Compte easily got the more inexperienced Robert to brag about and confess his indiscretion and adultery. Typical of the morals of this male dominated society, Robert would be forgiven with nary a slap on the wrist upon a written confession, and sent back into the arms of his wife.
With the evidence of her lover against her, all the protestations and haughtiness of Michelle were to no avail, she was condemned as an adulteress. But it was a surprise to most that the Comte also assessed that she was very young, and could be redeemed. And so he sentenced her to a year of atonement.
Of course, the Comte, who was no fool and something of a stud, knew a great piece of woman-flesh when he saw it. He most humbly designated himself as the one to handle her full year of atonement on behalf of the town. He could hear many townsfolk whisper to each other "What a kind, altruistic nobleman is the Comte! May he be blessed." He smiled, thinking, yes he would be blessed. He could hardly wait to begin her complete humiliation and bondage.
Michelle was relieved not to be stoned to death then and there. But she was shocked to find herself immediately stripped naked in front of the tribunal and the townfolk, bound, collared, and led away on a leash by the Comte. The sight of the naked Michelle with the long blonde hair down to her waist, the amazingly lithe, perfectly curvaceous body, and the most wonderfully rounded breasts ever seen, made all the men gape and all the women flush with envy.
It was barely a week later that the beautiful Michelle publicly reappeared in the town square near the church. Gone were her haughty airs, replaced by an obviously great angst and humiliation, clearly written on her face.
Of course, the fact that the Comte had converted her to a ponygirl, and had driven her hard all week pulling a cart under his whip around his estate, had a little something to do with it. Perhaps so did the fact that he made liberal use of every orifice she had to offer, with great zeal and pleasure, several times a day.
So there she stood, arms bound behind her, harnessed to the Comte's ornate pony-sulky carriage. The only clothes she was granted were long red rubber gloves, and black crotchless rubber pants. The pants ended in golden heel-less ponyhooves that made her forever stand and move on her toes. Her head was forced high not by her pride and haughtiness, but by a thick red posture collar, from which hung the very riding crop that had given her much pain during her past seven days of training.
From the waist up, she was naked, her only adornment being two delightful bells that hung from her now pierced and ringed nipples, which chimed their joy anytime she moved and her bounteous breasts undulated.
Her head was girt in a harsh red leather head harness, with its cruel bit pulled well back into her mouth between her teeth, giving her face the permanent grimace that reflected her feelings at her current plight. Topping it all off was a green plume rising high and proud from her forehead.
Michelle's once luxurious blonde hair was but a shadow of its former self. The remnant was pulled back into a short ponytail, which echoed her new lot in life. But her long hair had not disappeared, it simply moved lower, hanging in lovely waves from the pear-shaped buttplug that spread her ass widely with no hope of ejection.
As was the custom in Saint Hubert with ponygirls, the conservative townsfolk all came up to the hapless Michelle, liberally feeling her here, prodding her there. Several of her previously spurned suitors even detached the riding crop from her collar and kindly gave her all the stripes they deemed she needed to atone more fully.
By now, thanks to the constant attentions of the Comte, her smooth-shaved sex had been well conditioned for arousal from such treatment. She stood there creaming and dripping from her openly exposed pussy, unable to stop herself. She trembled from her animal-like heat, making her bells chime a pleasant melody, drawing even more attention to her plight.
Of course, when the Comte announced that she was available to all for ponyrides the rest of the day, Robert was the first one to get in the carriage and drive her around. He was truly ruthless with his ex-lover, giving her generous doses of the buggywhip while he rode her up and down the hills. He chose a fast paced trot, her nipple bells, her panting and her hooves creating a wonderful symphony. She was truly a gorgeous vision to behold.
Michelle's embarassment was already beyond total. She sighed, knowing her humiliation and atonement, her cruel use, bondage and punishment at the whims of the Comte, would go on for another long fifty one weeks, almost an etenity. And yet, somehow, after but a mere week of conditioning, she was looking forward to it all.
© SirJeff, Feb. 2004