"Your collection of original John Willie art is impressive," said my host as we sat in his parlor. "In certain respects, I guess you could say that I, too, am a collector of erotica. Would you like to see?"

"Certainly," I said.

He finished his glass of wine and got up, motioning for me to follow. We left the back of the house and headed toward a stable. By now, you-- like I-- can figure out what he was collecting.

Inside, we were met by two stablehands, who were busy preparing horse feed, then stopped at the first stall. A young blonde, naked and in full pony tack, was tethered in the middle of her stall by two leads stretching from the sides of her bit to rings on each side of the stall. The name FILLYSLUT was spelled out in small jewels across the forehead strap of her bridle.

"This first one is a former girlfriend. I convinced her to put on the harness and bridle for a fetish Halloween party. Needless to say, we never got to the party, and she's been wearing her 'costume' ever since. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

The young woman growled and thrashed about, her face red and contorted with fury, then glared at us with intense hatred, her ample chest heaving with anger.

"Easy, girl," taunted my host. "You should save that energy for your training. Your progress has been disappointingly slow, and lagging behind some of the newer arrivals."

Her eyes still seethed with fury, but I sensed there was a pleading in them also. Her former beau reached in and gripped her jaw with a firm hand. "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love that I can force you to submit to my will. I love that I have total control over your body and all its functions, including your sexual urges. I love that you can't yap incessantly about stupid things like women usually do. I love that I can play with your titties whenever I feel like it. I love shaving your head and pussy bald. I love restraining your soft flesh in hard leather and cold metal. I love working you hard all day until you're exhausted. I love the smell of your sweaty body at the end of a good workout. I love scrubbing you down at night as you stand there helpless to resist. I love how you drool and beg for tiny pieces of chocolate. And I love owning you and treating you as if you were a worthless little trinket that I can dispose of without a second thought."

Her eyes grew big, and her face trembled, but she refused to cry. He let go of her face, leaving pale marks where his fingers had dug into her skin, and we moved on to another naked pony girl, who was even prettier than the first. She was restrained in the same manner, and watched us with sad, expectant eyes. Her name, according to her bridle, was CATWALK KEERA.

"This next one is a former model. Very pretty, isn't she? She could have been a supermodel by now if I hadn't convinced her to put on the pony gear for a kinky photo shoot. She thought it was just going to be a Helmut Newton or Eric Kroll thing, not a permanent change in lifestyle. But then, she's not too bright; if it hadn't been me, it would have been someone else who took advantage of her." My host chuckled and shook his head. "No fame or fortune for this young filly. No exotic locales, expensive drug habits, or rock star boyfriends, either. Just lots of training and discipline and a spartan lifestyle," he teased.

Her head dropped as far as the leads would allow, but not before I saw tears spilling from her eyes. She suppressed a sob, knowing she would never be free again.

We left her and continued on.

"These next few are lonely women I picked up in bars," he said, somewhat dismissively with a wave of his hand. "They were so impressed with my wealth and charm that they agreed to cater to my kinky desires, much to their misfortune. My good looks and English accent didn't hurt, either, I might add. They're not the best-looking women around, but they are very obedient."

We passed five women who, I guessed, ranged in age from the late twenties to early forties-- PRANCER, DANCER, BUTTPONY, HOOTERS, and GRAYMARE. They were reasonably attractive, but no stunners like the first two, though one had nice long legs and another had a perfect set of tits. Most of them avoided our gaze as their faces turned red with shame. I sensed they knew how he felt about their looks, which hurt them deeply. He stopped at each one, giving a pat on the head here, a slap on the rump there, or a brief grope between the legs or on the chest. He went out of his way to point out his favorite features: the cute pink nipples on one, the smooth firm butt on another, or the full pussy lips on a third. I could well imagine that their former dull lives now seemed thrilling when compared with their current situation. We moved to the other side of the stable.

"Now, over here we have the college students. Thrill-seekers who got a little more than they bargained for. Ain't that right, Stormy Hormones?"

A petite pierced and tattooed Goth girl spat some garbled obscenities through her metal breaking bit as she stood there, defiant. My host only laughed, then reached in, yanked her forward by the chin strap of her bridle, and planted an open-mouthed kiss on her dark lips. She struggled and made noise, but couldn't pull free. Neither could she escape his hand as it roughly massaged her ample chest.

After a minute, he pulled away and turned to me. "She found out the hard way that having her nipples and labia pierced could have a down side. A quick tug here and there can be very effective in making someone very compliant." I smiled, not wanting to mention that she didn't appear too compliant to me, especially since it looked as if her cuffed hands with their long nails seemed ready to break free and rip his eyes out. "Fortunately, the other two have settled in very nicely."

At the next stall, he reached in and stroked the young woman's shaved head; in response, she closed her eyes lazily, like a cat resting in the sunlight.

"So docile and tamed. Prettytits, I call her. Go ahead, reach in and feel her titties."

I did not hesitate as I leaned into the stall and cupped one of her soft C-cup breasts, squeezing and stroking the warm flesh. The pony girl moaned, and her nipples stiffened in response. As a test, I grasped a hard, rubbery nipple between thumb and forefinger and squeezed hard. She gasped, and it was obvious the intense pain was making her cum.

"See what I mean?"

I let go, and the pony girl opened her eyes, which stared back at me with slavish devotion. There was one more girl-- WOBBLY BITS--, a bit chubby but with nice curves, and that was the end of the tour, as the last few stalls remained vacant.

"Finding willing subjects is absurdly easy these days, what with so many women willing to explore their sexuality. My collection will soon fill the stable, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to let some of them go."

He saw my startled expression and laughed. "No, no, not set them free-- sell them. I'm sure there are others who would be willing to buy, no questions asked."

"Definitely," I said. "You just have to be careful who you sell them to. I'm sure, with my connections, I can help you out in that respect."

"I'm honored. Maybe we can set up a website, like eBay. Call it eNeigh."

We both laughed at this little joke, then left the stable as the stablehands were strapping the feedbags onto the first girls.

"I know other 'collectors' use drugs and brute force to acquire their collections, but not me. I prefer to use my charm and money, which can be a bit of a challenge, though the women tend to blame themselves for being tricked and conned, which sometimes makes it easier to tame them."

I nodded with approval. "Speaking of easy to tame, would Prettytits be on the market?"

My host saw my interest, and thought for a second. "I suppose for the right price. I'd hate to see her go, but-- she's seems to have taken a liking to you."

"Good. Then perhaps we can work something out."

"Perhaps."

We went back inside to celebrate with another glass of wine.