Death of a Master Ch. 03

When she noticed that Sally was straining against her orgasm, Valerie ordered, "Cum, slave; cum as often as you can."

Sally responded by tensing and screaming into the gag, her body shuddering in a climax long overdue. Through it, Valerie kept the fucking motions going, pressing Sally deeper into her orgasm and not letting her down from her sensual high. It seemed to Sally that she no sooner had one orgasm finish than the constant stimulation forced another on her. Just seeing her lover writhe in ecstasy sent Valerie on her own roller coaster of pleasure. When her orgasm started, she slammed into Sally one more time and rolled her end of the dildo around her pussy and pressed her clit hard against the nubs nestled against it.

When her orgasm ended, Valerie pulled out and undid the straps on the harness, letting the toy fall to the floor. Sally was unbound and the two women collapsed in each others' arms on the bed. Light kisses were traded as they relaxed from their exertions. It wasn't long before they fell asleep.

Valerie woke to the sound of the door to the room opening and a cart being wheeled in. Her eyes snapped open as she realized she was covered by a light blanket. Her eyes focused on Sally, dressed, handing a motel employee some money. The aroma of eggs, ham, bacon and cheese filled the room; obviously coming from the covered plates on the cart, overcoming another, older scent. Sally turned to see her Mistress awake as she closed the door behind the gentleman.

"Good morning, Mistress. I took the liberty of ordering breakfast from room service."

"It smells wonderful, Sally. Did you order for yourself?"

"Yes, Mistress, though I was intending on waiting for permission to eat it."

"Good." Val threw the cover off and sat on the edge of the bed. "I think I need to clean up first. Draw me a bath, Sally, and I'll let you feed me while I bathe."

"Yes, Mistress," she replied with a smile.

Sally drew the bath, adding bubble lotion, knowing Val loved bubble baths. While Valerie soaked in the tub, Sally fed her breakfast. This kind of service was something she'd done in the past, though not very often. Sally marveled at how being fed by Valerie and feeding Valerie both felt so submissive to her. It truly was as much the mindset she let herself sink into as it was what she did, or was done to her.

Once both women had eaten, they left the room to wander the convention. Neither of the two was much interested in pony play for their own enjoyment, but both did have a natural curiosity about the fetish. Both had experienced forced animalization at the hands of Rachael (as a dog) and didn't really understand why someone would want to be treated as an animal of some sort.

Very few ponies were in evidence in the halls of the motel. That was to be expected, seeing as most pony girls were, for the most part, nearly nude when in the role of their pony. Val wasn't certain if the dearth of outfits that covered was a personal choice or a fact of economics. Such outfits, usually leather, were quite expensive. The more body that was covered, the pricier the suit. Valerie understood from the organizers that the motel insisted that local decency laws be observed in the general public areas of the motel. The various conference halls and large meeting rooms where the events were to take place were another matter. Of course, since one had to traverse the halls to get to the rooms, it was a moot point for most participants.

Like many conventions, the pony girl fair was a bustle of widely different people, both in gender and personality. Valerie was realizing just how misnamed the term pony girl was. There seems to be quite a few pony boys as well, though the girls did outnumber the boys. She did have the distinct feeling that a higher percentage of the male ponies were also submissives. In both cases, however, pony didn't mandate submissive; quite a few human ponies were seemingly neither submissive nor dominant, and neither were their trainers or handlers (Val wasn't yet certain the difference between the two).

Valerie and Sally spent the morning watching a demonstration intended for novice ponies and trainers. A trainer/pony team was demonstrating the basics of moving and acting like a horse. Valerie had been unaware that true horses had as much personality variance as people did. This meant that just about any personality type could play pony and not have to change. The pony in the demonstration could only be called playful. She showed clear impatience when the trainer was talking and fidgeted much like a real horse, according to the speaker. The joy in the woman's face when she was put through her paces was palpable. Valerie could only smile in sympathy; herself having the same joy in submission to her Master. At the end of the presentation, time was allotted for the observers to try a little pony play for themselves. While many were tentative, a few were able to get into the spirit and let their inner ponies shine through.

That afternoon, they met Mr. Sanders at the panel discussion early enough to get good seats. The seats filled up fast and soon, there was standing room only. The four members of the panel were seated up front, dressed in casual clothes; no sign of pony outfits to be seen. One of the members was Julie, the woman she'd met briefly as Shasta the day before.

"If I can have your attention please, I'd like to get started so we have plenty of time for questions," Julie announced, her voice booming through the microphone. As the chatter quieted she made introductions. "I'm Julie, also known as Shasta in my pony persona. To my left are Gabriel, whose Spirit won the cart racing trophy in Houston last year and Carl, sometimes known as Tiny, a work horse." That brought several chuckles from the crowd, since Carl was a large man, and likely an equally large pony. "To my right is Naomi, who took the dressage trophy at this very convention three years ago as Calliope. Welcome to our panel. We're going to share just why we engage in what many would consider the unusual sport of pony play. It's our hope that these reasons will resonate with those of you who are ponies yourselves and help you others understand us, and any pony girls and boys in your lives. You'll find the four of us have very different reasons for what we do. Those reasons might make sense, or perhaps they'll just leave you wondering how anyone could feel that way. Regardless, try to understand us, even if it seems nuts. We're all nuts to someone, that's why mixed nuts are the best." Polite chuckles were the only response to her joke. "I'll let Gabriel start us off. Gabriel?"

"Thanks, Julie." The short blond looked out at the crowd. "What's important to understand about me is that I don't think of myself as a human, not really. My spirit is horse; it's always been so. Books like Black Beauty and movies like Spirit always have resonated with me to my very soul. To run with the wind is pure joy for me. I am a horse trapped in a human body, much like the transgender may feel like a woman or man trapped in the wrong sexual body. When I was a child, I felt so much more at home with the horses in my dad's stables. I knew them, understood how they thought and felt. They understood me too."

Valerie saw the rapturous look on Gabriel's face as she talked more about her intimate (mentally) relationship with horses. While Valerie would never understand this feeling of being in the wrong body, she could appreciate what that trapped feeling was like. It was plain on her face.

"If I couldn't escape into my true self, Spirit, I'd be a depressed mess these days," Gabriel continued. "I'd much like to be Spirit full time, but human ponies don't pay the bills. I'm so thankful for an unguarded school computer that led to my discovering pony play when I was 16. From the moment I saw my first pony girl, I knew this was the life for me. The following two years were agonizing for me, as the underage can't find a trainer or handler. The rest, as they say, is history."

After the light applause died down, Julie spoke, introducing Carl again. "Carl, why don't you tell the people why you're a pony boy."

"Sure thing, Julie. For me, it's love and respect. There's no more beautiful and majestic creature than the horse. Compared to people, horses are the perfect creature; loyal, lovely, honest, smart. I have trouble understanding how anyone could not want to be a pony or horse. You can't fool a horse with lies and subterfuge. You always know what a horse thinks of you, good or bad. If a horse respects his rider, he'll run himself to death if that's what the rider needs. When I'm Tiny, I become, for a while, like the horse I admire. Being a pony boy is as much about my respect and admiration for horses as it is about making me a better person, if only for a short time. The work I do as Tiny is very cleansing for my mind and soul."

"Thank you, Carl. Next up is Naomi. Naomi?"

"Thank you, Julie. I'm neither a horse in a human body, nor am I madly in love with horses themselves," Naomi started with nods to Gabriel and Carl. "What I am, is a submissive; a willing slave to my Master, Lawrence.' Naomi pointed towards a man sitting in the front row who nodded in response. "My happiness comes from serving my Master in any way he wishes. One of those wishes is for me to be a champion pony girl. So, that's what I set out to become. I have to admit, I didn't like it at first. Dressage is hard work and my costume is designed to be a type of bondage, so it's rather uncomfortable. But seeing the look of pride on His face when I'm competing well; well there's nothing better than knowing your Master is pleased with you." Valerie and Sally both nodded at that, understanding just where Naomi was coming from. "I've come to enjoy being a pony girl, but it was never about my enjoyment; it's always been about His."

"Thanks, Naomi. I guess that leaves me. I started pony play because I saw others doing it and it just looked like so much fun, as well as erotic as hell. I've always had a kinky side to my sex and pony play just turns me on like nothing else does. While my husband isn't much into it, he's willing to suffer the benefits of my interest in it." Her comment brought a scattering of laughter from the crowd. "So there you have it, folks; just four of the many reasons we're ponies. Let's open the floor to questions and comments." Pointing to the convention staffer who had carried a microphone stand out, she added, "Just form a line at the mike and we'll try to get to everyone. When you speak, introduce yourself first and address your question, if you have one, to the panel member you wish to have answer it."

There was a flurry of movement as people stood and moved towards the mike. The first person in line waited until the noise had settled and then asked her question.

"Hi, I'm Tammy. Gabriel, have you found your experiences as a pony making you aware of the cruelty that farm animal slaves go through on a daily basis?"

The groan that went through the crowd suggested that this type of question had been heard before. Valerie found it unbelievable that someone would interject a clearly leading, and political question into the proceedings. The disgust was radiating from Gabriel's face as she visibly fought to keep her emotions in check before she answered.

"Why do you do this, Tammy? Every convention, you're at the forums spouting your nonsense in the most insulting manner possible. I really wish you'd just leave me alone." Gabriel took a deep breath before continuing. A couple of staffers had moved closer, obviously ready to escort Tammy away. "Farm animals aren't slaves; you have to be human to be a slave. Just because I'm a horse born in a human body doesn't make horses equal to people. If anything, I've become more aware of the plight of millions of human beings who are treated like animals against their will. Now, go away, please."

As if that was the signal, the two men took Tammy, complaining all the while, and escorted her from the room. There was murmuring until Julie spoke again.

"I apologize, everyone. I'm afraid Tammy has been a thorn in our sides for quite some time. If we could return to the discussion at hand, it'd be appreciated. Let's not give her the satisfaction of responding to her statements."

The rest of the time went fairly normally; or as normal as a group of people interested in human animal play could be. About a third of the speakers simply wanted to thank the presenters for speaking to things they themselves had felt. Of the questions, half were of the probing kind; intended to learn more about one or more of the panel's feelings about being ponies. The rest of the questions were more personal in nature and ranged from advice on how to get started in pony play to practical issues of just how to overcome various obstacles to play.

Partway through the question and answer phase, Valerie started feeling like she was being watched. Looking around, she saw Sydney, the man from the meet and greet the day before, staring intently at her. Their eyes met and she couldn't help but shudder at the anger and hate that seemed to roll off the man. Grateful for the public venue, Valerie turned away and tried to ignore his presence. By the time the panel had broken up, he was gone.

The rest of the day was uneventful, though informative. The couple didn't see much of Mr. Sanders and the executive didn't make contact with them during the day. Apparently he preferred to get his information unfiltered, as it were, by a guide. Valerie had that sense, cultivated from much experience, that this sale was one that would take care of itself; and that her best strategy was to simply stay out of the way.

Tuesday, Val and Sally took some time off from the convention to take in the sights of Atlanta. Both enjoyed the Georgia aquarium (the largest in the world) and the Atlanta Botanical gardens. The Martin Luther King Jr. Historical site was a must see for Valerie while Sally practically gushed during their tour of the Margaret Mitchell House. They savored some of Atlanta's best, authentic southern cuisine at Pittypat's Porch restaurant (the mint juleps were to die for) and the Redfish Creole bistro.

As they returned home that evening, tired and well fed, Valerie stopped just inside the door to their room.

"Mistress, is anything wrong?"

"I don't know. Something feels wrong, but I'm not sure what."

Sally looked around, her eyes noting everything in the room. "I don't see anything missing, Mistress."

Val shook her head. "I don't either. Still, the room feels wrong. It's probably nothing," she sighed, thinking her imagination was getting carried away. In spite of her uneasiness, Valerie's lack of security training left her unable to pick up on the slight changes in position of the various personal items in the room. The repercussions from this day would be far reaching.

During their time out on the town playing tourist, Valerie kept Sally in her slavery as deeply as possible. Her color and cuffs were in evidence and Sally was instructed to only use Mistress when talking with Valerie, no matter how public. Valerie ordered food for Sally and had her asking for permission for anything she wanted to do, even use the bathroom. Effectively, Valerie treated Sally no differently than when they were at home, only she was able to impose her will on her slave for the entire day. That night, Sally was made to sleep on a cushion at the foot of the bed. In spite of numerous embarrassing incidents, Sally was in heaven the entire day; her slavery fitting her like a well worn glove.

On Wednesday, Valerie made sure to attend the tack making workshop and demo. She wanted to see how Mr. Sanders took the information the workshop had to offer. Unlike many of the attendees, Sanders had the look of someone who knew just what was going on and who could bring a critical eye to the equipment and its construction. The workshop leaders responded and eagerly answered any questions he had about their techniques and how the equipment was designed to be used. He was clearly gathering information about potential future product lines.

Valerie had to restrain herself from shouting, "Yes!" and pumping her fist in the air when he asked one of the demonstrators, "So tell me, is there any one item of tack that is most needed by ponies; something that is beyond the abilities of the amateur craftsman to make?"

There was no hesitation at all in their response. "A bit designed to fit in, and work in a human mouth."

"Yes, I can see the problem. A bit for a horse is supposed to set behind the rear molars; both to prevent it from being spit out and to keep from damaging the teeth from biting on it. People don't have that gap, and if they did, their cheeks would prevent a bit from resting there for any length of time."

"You know your horses, sir."

"I should. One can't work for Ridgeview for any length of time and not know something about the equine body and mind."

"You're with Ridgeview Riding Gear? I didn't see a table for you in the vendor room."

"We don't have one. This is research for the company; determining if pony play is a market we wish to develop."

"I don't know what criteria you're working under, but a real tack company selling pony play gear would be such a boon to the lifestyle. Right now, everything is hand made (and usually lesser quality), modified from real gear (and potentially dangerous), or custom made by individual craftsmen (and prohibitively expensive). Have you made a determination yet?"

"I'm not at liberty to say; but I can say that I'm currently gathering information on potential product lines in the event that the board of directors decides to move forward. Of course, I'd appreciate your discretion on the matter."

As the workshop leader promised to keep the information close to his chest, Valerie smiled at the advertising savvy Mr. Sanders demonstrated. By the time Ridgeview announced that they were entering the field, the word would have been spread far and wide; within the lifestyle. By the time the first products were released, their market would be primed and initial sales would be phenomenal.

The rest of Wednesday and all of Thursday were unremarkable, both in terms of things seen at the convention and in the personal interactions of the two ladies. In the two years that Sally had been Valerie's slave, their interactions had become almost second nature to them. It took something exceptional, such as Sally's reaction to Sydney's unwanted attentions, to cause either one to think actively about their Mistress/slave relationship. This isn't to say that they had no problems; like any close relationship, they had their fair share. They simply were able to handle those problems like any other healthy couple.

Occasionally, it would occur to them that many people living in an M/s relationship never achieved the comfortable familiarity in it that they had. They'd never be able to recognize what they did differently from others, but the fact that both had been in mental health therapy and had learned to communicate well and openly had much to do with it. Communication is important in any relationship and doubly so in a D/s one. It also helped that even after three years; they were madly in love with one another.

Friday morning arrived with the patter of rain on the window of their room. Dark clouds were releasing their burden on the city of Atlanta, bringing a welcome cooling from the higher temperatures earlier in the week. As Sally washed her in the shower, Valerie thought about the last event she was interested in watching; the harness races. They were the only event scheduled to be held outside the hotel. One of the local members of the lifestyle had a horse breeding and training ranch outside the city limits and had made his track available to the convention for the races. Valerie and Mr. Sanders had made plans to take a cab together to the ranch to watch the racing.