Page 289 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
Bent over in the pillory, brought onto her toes by the hoof boots, Bren’s long, strong legs are flexed, the tendons in the backs of her knees prominent under her velvet skin. Her ass and the backs of her thighs bear a dusting of bruises from our frequent impact play, but are mostly golden and pink, a nearly fresh canvas.
“Girl, I want you to take this for me without any more warm up. I want to see my marks like sunrise across these cheeks.” I rub them as I speak and feel her shiver. She stamps one of herhooves, both in protest at a whipping without a real warm up and, I think, in assent. “But you have to be honest with me about the pain. I’m going to stop after every stroke and when you’re ready for me to go again, you give me a whinny. If you don’t whinny after three minutes, we’re done, and I’ll give you the pleasure you’ve earned. I’m proud of you, girl. I want to see you take the pain for me, but I’m not trying to terrorize you. If it’s too much, you yell yellow loud and clear. Stamp your right foot twice so I know you’ve heard me.”
She does. Two very distinct stomps.
I rub her ass for another moment before stepping back. My shoulder’s still good and loose from the earlier whip cracking, but just to make sure of my aim, I step to the side and crack the whip twice, once on either side of her. She shudders at each crack, but after the second one, gives a clear whinny.
I slash the whip across her ass.
Although I’ve used nothing like the force I put into making the whip crack, it lays down a line of red fire across those pale gold cheeks. Her skin ripples with the impact. Her body jolts, muscles tightening and releasing. A strangled groan breaks out of her, but no scream. I move in immediately to press my palm over the mark, feeling the heat burn into my skin. There’s no wetness against my fingers and I sigh with relief. It was a good strike. Now that I’m confident, I can relax into the rush of excitement that tingles through my blood, the pleasure that tightens my balls.
When Bren whinnies, my cock jerks and leaks in my pants. I bend over her and kiss her trembling shoulders. “Good girl. That’s my good girl. I’m proud of you, girl. So proud. You make me so proud.”
She shifts under me as she stamps her right foot twice.
I rub my hands down her back, gentling and praising her the way I would a real horse, before I lean back, open my pants, andfeed my cock into her. I fuck her for a few strokes, consumed by my need for this woman, before I pull out and tuck my cock back into my pants, leaving them open, because I’m going to be right back inside her after the next stroke.
I step back and roll my shoulder to loosen up before I snap the whip across Bren’s ass again, aiming an inch down from the first mark. Her buttocks clench tight as the red line rises across her skin and her back arches, but she immediately relaxes again and instead of a scream, all that comes out of her is a harsh gasp followed by a low moan. I move in again and fuck her for a full minute, running my hands up and down her back, stroking her hips, fingering the two red marks, and reaching around to slap her clit for the last few strokes.
Bren’s shaking when I step back but her whinny is strong. Sure of both my aim and her pain tolerance, I snap the whip across the roundest part of her ass and before she gets out more than a high bleat, move in to press my hands against the weal. The other marks are spreading now, bleeding into each other. The redness against her skin, the shuddering rise of her ribs as she breathes through the pain, the clench and release of her muscles, even her thick, sweet, buttery scent, it’s delicious. It fills me. Pushes out every bad memory and submerges me in our heated connection. This time, I fuck her until she comes, clenching hot and frantic on my cock as I batter her clit with my fingers, braying through the bit and bucking with each swell of pleasure.
She slumps against the pillory when I pull out and give her another lash of the whip. Her moan is low and her whinny is weak and I’m sure she wants nothing more than for the scene to be over, but she stays with me, my bold girl, shaking off the hit and straightening her legs before the last strike. Pride swells my chest almost as thickly as pleasure as I lay down the final stripe across the backs of her thighs. It’s a sensitive spot and itdraws a garbled howl out of her before she hangs limp against the wooden restraint.
“Good girl,” I encourage her as I set the whip aside and walk around in front of her. Her eyes are closed and the muscles of her face slack, her cheeks streaked with tears, but when she hears my footsteps, she opens her eyes and blinks up at me. I unclip the bit, wipe her face, and massage her jaw for a moment.
“Give me a color, girl.”
“Green, Sir,” she says thickly.
“As grass?”
She nods into my hands.
“Give me one more orgasm, girl.” I kneel in front of her so we’re eye to eye and she can see everything I might not be able to say. “I want that ass.”
She nods again but I can see she’s flagging. I drink it in. These moments, when she chooses to submit to me despite the difficulty of it, when she has to work against her own will, are the most precious. The ones that really feed the black hole of my soul.
“That’s my filthy filly. I’m so proud of you, girl.”
She breaks into a tired version of her bold-girl grin. “Thank you, Sir.”
I stroke her for another minute, making sure the connection between us is open and strong, before I clip the bit back between her teeth, move behind her, and take out her tail plug. She shivers at the loss. I give her body a minute to close while I roll on a condom, take a bottle of lube and the bottle of hot sauce out of my toy bag and anoint the condom and my fingers. I go light with the hot sauce on the condom but liberal on my fingers. I want my masochist engaged but not agonized.
I circle the furl of her anus with my tip and see the moment she registers the heat. Goosebumps ripple across her back. She shivers and sways on her hooves. I tease her, pushing my tip inand then easing it out while she huffs through her bit. I feed my cock into her, letting the burn bite deep as Bren wiggles and stamps. Even through the condom, the grip of her sphincter and the heat of her ass are magnificent, drawing a deep groan out of me as I sink in to the hilt.
I thrust lazily, simply enjoying the sensations, including the sounds of Bren huffing through her bit and stamping her hooves as the hot sauce spreads. Despite her noises, her ass squeezes and squeezes on my cock like she just can’t help herself. My girl loves the bite. The muscles of her buttocks and hips ripple under her silken skin. I stroke her with my clean fingertips and hear her moan.
I pick up my pace a little, feeling the pressure mounting in my balls, urgency prickling up my spine. Despite her fatigue, Bren keeps pace with me, pushing back into each thrust. I reach around and rub my tingling fingers through her pussy. She squeals. Her ass clamps down so hard it forces a surprised grunt out of me. I’m not going to last long if she keeps that up, but it feels too good to stop. I finger her, spreading the hot sauce over her sensitive tissues, as she howls through the bit and batters my cock with the muscles of her ass. She bucks so wildly the heavy pillory rattles against its moorings, and I hold off my own orgasm only by biting down on my tongue so hard I taste blood.
When her magnificent contractions fade, I ease out of her, roll off the condom, and walk around in front of her. I unclip her bit and press her chin down with my thumb. “Suck me off, my slutty mare.”
She looks up at me dazedly but takes my cock without even a whimper. Whether it’s the black-haired sub’s example or purely exhaustion, she takes me all the way to the back of her throat on one long thrust, flicking her tongue stud along the underside of my cock, making my balls tighten like a fist. I gather her dreads in one hand and cup her face with the other while I pump intoher hot mouth and clasping throat, groaning with each deep thrust. Bren’s gasps when I pull back and let her breathe are the sweetest music. Her tight throat squeezes my sensitive head over and over, until I’m gasping nearly as loudly as she is. When she sucks hard, her cheeks hollowing, I push all the way into her throat and hold her face pressed to my groin as I unload my balls in burst after burst of utter, ecstatic release.
When I pull back to let her breathe, I feel her hum and stroke her cheek in appreciation of the enhanced pleasure. When I withdraw further, I realize she’s laughing. I grab a pack of baby wipes off the table between the pillories and clean her face, shaking my head at her. “What’s so funny, bold girl?”
“Mud yuh creem,” she mumbles.
I kneel in front of her and massage her jaw while I finish wiping her up. “Try that again.”
