Page 95 of Forfeits

When we got into the room, Aiden told me to stand by the door with my hands on my head and my eyes closed while he got things ready. I listened to the sounds of him walking around, opening drawers and gathering items, the anticipation building on top of what had already accumulated on the ride here and the short wait in the gaming parlor. The molly boys were getting to know us now and had flirted outrageously, whetting our appetites. What a spectacular place this club was.

“All right,” Aiden said finally, after he’d returned to me. “Give me your hand, but don’t open your eyes.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said.

Aiden led me forward. “Such a good slut. My sexy, obedient, naughty little slut.”

His words felt like butter melting over my skin.

“Thank you, Sir.”

He led me around some of the bondage furniture then stopped, placing my hand against rough wood. He guided my fingers over a cold metal loop that was attached there with bolts.

“Do you know what this is?” Aiden asked.

“No, Sir,” I said, quaking with trepidation and curiosity.

“Hmm. Well, let me ask you another question,” he said, as he trailed something slim and leathery against my skin. “Do you know what the Victorians enjoyed, besides getting kinky with each other in back rooms?”

“Um…no, Sir.”

“Riding.”

Is that another word for fucking?

“Riding, Sir?”

“Yes. Horses, leather boots and bridles…all that jazz.” Aiden’s lips tickled my ear. “Do you want to be my pretty pony?”

I stiffened as a jolt of unexpected arousal passed through me. Arousal plus interest, fear, fascination, intrigue, curiosity—all at once.

I made a sound.

“Sorry, what?”

“Yes,” I said, letting the ‘S’ sound drag on a precipice of desire.

He chuckled. “Thought so.” He traced the leather implement over my backside. “Pet play is fun. It’s so…immersive and humiliating.”

I shuddered, my cock surging, a bubble of fluid making my glans cold as the air in the room hit it.

“You can open your eyes.”

I did. I stood before a rough wooden board that was attached to the wall, with a sign above it that said ‘Hitching Post’. Someone had scrawled ‘For naughty ponies’ below that in red.

I whimpered.

“Are you a naughty pony, Fletcher?” Aiden said, stroking my hair. “Or a good, obedient one?”

I couldn’t make words.

“Can’t wait to find out,” Aiden said, showing me something he held in his hand.

It was a small harness of some kind, made with slim leather straps and buckles. My gaze fixed on the long ears that were fastened to the sides of a crosspiece between four thin bands. They were made of stiff leather that had been shaped into a horse’s ears.

“Now, are you going to stand still and let me put this bridle on you? Or are you going to fight me?”

I gaped at Aiden. He had the most delighted, benign smile on his beautiful face, and it fucking broke me. I’d do whatever this man wanted me to do. How could I fight him?

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