Page 23 of Naughty November

“Good ponies need a crop used in just the right the way,” I murmured, tracing it along the tender skin to the top of his boot, then down the inside of his other leg. “Such a pretty pony, Midnight. And you’re mine.”

Midnight pulled at the reins, trying to turn his head.

I changed my position so that I was beside him, then wrapped the fingers of my free hand around his arching cock. He groaned as I gave it a few hard strokes and let go.

He whimpered. He couldn’t turn his head and he couldn’t see me because of the blinders.

“Mmm. That’s a very nice cock. A fine example of a dick and very fucking hard, which I like to see.”

I pressed the folded leather end against his sack and traced the crop along the underside of his cock, pleased to see a bubble of fluid grow and then drip over his glans. I caught it and dragged the now wet tip of the crop over his sensitive skin.

Atticus gasped.

Fuck, he was glorious. Muscles straining, body held in that uncomfortable position and subject to whatever I chose to do. I was in my glory as I teased my beautiful submissive, causing delightful sounds of frustration as Atticus’ cock twitched and bubbled over, again and again.

“Now for your punishment,” I said, giving my pony a playful tap on the outside of his thigh. Atticus groaned as his hands clenched into fists.

I laughed. “Oh yes. Naughty, naughty pony.”

I traced the poetic curve of his buttock and then brought the crop down hard against the dimple there. Yeah, he had fuckingdimplesin his buttocks when he clenched. I wanted to lick and kiss them. One day, I’d spackle his sweet ass with my spunk and watch it collect in those fucking dimples. But for now, this.

I started with moderate strikes that soon became stinging and hard. Atticus reacted beautifully. I watched his muscles clenched and imagined how huge that pony tail plug must feel. The horsehair tail quivered and shook as Atticus reacted to the punishment. A sheen of sweat coated his shoulders and lower back as he struggled to maintain composure.

I only went really hard for a few moments, savoring his cries and moans, then stopped and lowered my arm.

“Very good pony. Such a good pony. My beautiful Midnight,” I crooned as Atticus panted, chest rising and falling, his entire body flushed and his bottom a ruddy pink all over, with pale welts that would disappear by tonight.

He stomped his foot, and I chuckled.

“Too much?” I asked. It was a rhetorical question. He knew to use his safeword if he wanted me to stop.

Atticus gave a low groan. He was fine, only perhaps not thrilled about that kind of treatment, which was too fucking bad. Maybe he wouldn’t be late again, and I’d bet he’d be more careful not to come without my permission.

“I want you to remember this when you’re struggling to hold off from now on,” I said, giving his cock a few more strokes, then helping him forward so that he could straighten up and take the strain off his back.

I moved in close and kissed him on the cheek, smoothing my palm along his shoulder and down his back, then over his tender rump as he hissed.

“You are fucking beautiful, my Midnight. So incredible and perfect.”

I was free with my praise as I soothed him with soft strokes to hissweat damp skin. Once he’d calmed, I unbuckled the forearm cuffs and lowered his arms to his sides.

I kissed him on the corner of the mouth, where the bit stretched his lips, and whispered, “I want to fuck my pretty pony now.”

Atticus gave a low moan that trailed off in a pitiful plea. He was desperate for it and so was I.

“You will not come with my cock inside you. I have other plans, and I want to see you control yourself.”

He whimpered.

In all honesty, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I saw that hands-free come-shot again, but I wanted to see if he could manage himself. The situation was win-win for me.

I dug out the condom I’d pocketed earlier and made a show of ripping the packet open and sheathing myself. He pulled against his reins again, but he still couldn’t see anything but the wall in front of him.

He huffed a breath and stomped his foot. I laughed. It seemed to be exactly what a horse would do if it were mad, but didn’t hate you enough to bite.

“Settle down, Midnight. And spread those legs for me.”

It sounded filthy coming out of my mouth, as if I were about to fuck a horse, when Atticus was so obviously human. I stripped off my clothes, stealing glances at the fine figure he made.

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