Pony Squad

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Two detectives discuss some disturbing BDSM activity.
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Reading from the report, Detective Johnson read one part aloud, "'...she was naked, it was torture...,' you get that from the song?"

"What song sir?" the younger officer asked.

"Clapton, you know... Cream? From Disraeli Gears, late sixties, early seventies. You know, 'I was naked, it was torture...'."

"Uh, no, not sure where you're coming from here."

"Forget it. I guess you're too young. Anyway, let's go over this from the beginning, okay?"

"Well, seems the victim had met the guy over the internet and over the period of several months, they got to know each other, meeting in chat rooms. Over time, the conversations got more and more intimate, progressing to conversations on the phone, even some vid-cam stuff."

"First face to face meeting?"

"Yes, she says she planned to just have dinner with him, but after a few drinks, things seemed okay."

"Did she have a safe call arranged?"

"Safe call?"

"Yes, a safe call. A friend she's to contact during the scene, to confirm she is safe."

"Scene sir?"

"Yes, scene, their rendezvous... when they got together."

"I don't know."

"Look, go back and talk to her again. Ask her if she arranged a safe call and while you're at it see if she and the perp had a safe word worked out."

"Safe word?"

"Yeah, safe word, it's... it's... just ask her if they had worked out a safe word. And Detective, when she answers, 'No,' I want you to just shake your head back and forth. Damn, she's lucky to be alive."

When the young detective left the room Johnson picked up the phone and dialed home. "Hi hon, I'm gonna be a little late today. We got another SM abandonment here.

"No, no, the woman is fine this time, a maid checked the room shortly after the guy left.

"Yeah, real sloppy, just like before. Anyway, give me an hour and a half and I'll be getting home.

"You'll be ready? Good, see you then."

Hanging up the phone he noticed the detective had returned. He motioned him to come in and then got ready to hear what he already knew.

"No safe call, no safe word, just like you said."

"Damn idiot, this clown has now idea."

"The victim?"

"The victim too, but I'm talking about the perp. Look, fill me in on the details and we'll file the report. When we're done, see if you can get an artist in to see her. Maybe she'll get us a better picture of who we're dealing with."

"Well, like I said, they started with dinner and then after a few drinks they went back to his hotel room. Once there they had sex..."

"Do you have some more specifics? All the details are important."

"Well, the victim said he put something on her, like a harness or something. It had something that went into her mouth, kind of choked her a bit. He also pushed a dildo or something into her ass, had like a tail on it. He then rode her around the room, if I heard her right."

"You heard right, she was his "ponygirl."

"Ponygirl?"

"Yeah, a bit of a kink for the BDSM players. She plays as his horse."

"He hit her, with something she called a cat?"

"Cat-o-nine tails, leather device with a handle, nine or more straps off the end, a pretty standard piece of equipment. Look, all this was consensual was it not?"

"Well yes, they went on, with him basically having sex with her, ah, doggie style. Then he took the leather straps from the piece over her mouth."

"The reins and the bridle."

"Okay, reins and bridle. Anyway, he tied her to the bed post, then tied her hands and legs so she couldn't move."

"He hobbled her," Johnson interjected.

"And then just left her."

"Cute trick, that asshole. You can't leave them that way, the restraint can kill them, they'll choke on the bit, or the reins and leather ties will cut off circulation."

"Like the Lincoln Oaks..."

"Exactly, I think this may be the same guy."

"Serial killer?"

"No, just a sloppy dominant, doesn't know what the hell he's doing. He probably thinks the women are fine, satisfied by playing his 'ponygirl' for a while. We need to get this guy or he'll just keep on. Here, or wherever else he travels to."

"Okay, let me get the artist down to our victim," the young detective said, heading toward the door. Before leaving he paused, "How do you know so much about this boss?"

"You been around as long as I have and you see a lot of things."

"Yeah, some pretty sick stuff."

"Not necessarily sick, let's say different."

"Different it is, that's for sure."

Johnson smiled as the young man headed down the hallway. He spun around in his chair, shut down the computer and grabbed the phone.

"I'm on my way," he said, "Love you."

It was a short drive home and with his mind twirling though his case, he found himself pulling up into his driveway without any memory of the trip home. This case had quickly gotten very personal to him.

Unlocking the door, he murmured to himself, "I gotta get that idiot."

Stepping into his living room he looked across the dark room and saw his wife in silhouette. The dim light from the hallway glistened on her haunches and as he moved closer he could see the dark leather of the harness against her light skin. He began removing his clothes as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

She was on all fours on the high table, her legs and arms spread outward in a perfect equine form. Her tail jutted upward from her ass, just like the show horses in their proudest stance.

By the time he got undressed, his cock was already hard and when he moved closer to her, rubbing his head along the back of her thigh, he could smell her moist scent. Moving the tail up onto her back, he moved his hands down between her hind quarters, letting his finger follow the delicate slit, first dipping into her for lubrication, then moving forward.

Ah, a bit of the harness covered her clit. She had carefully arranged the harness so that even the slightest movement would stimulate the tiny bud, so by the time he got home to her, she was hot, wet and ready for him to take her.

Not wanting to disrupt her sensation, he moved his fingers back toward her wet cunt, where he slowly spread her lips and leaning forward, pressed his cock into the quivering opening. Grabbing her reins, he gently pulled, causing her head and then her body to draw back onto him as he pushed forward, pushing deeper and deeper into her.

With the sensations that had been running over her clit and now him entering her, she was immediately poised, ready to cum, but she held back. He could feel her body tremble as she fought now to fight off what she wanted so badly. He knew how badly she wanted it, needed it, but that way why he remained silent, withholding that single whisper that would free her.

She was firmly in his control now, though the reins and through his cock he held her at the edge of ecstasy, knowing every moment he held her there would make it just that much better for her, that much more intense. He listened as she moaned, pleading in a high pitched whinny that would make any horseman proud. Leaning forward he whispered, "Now," just as he plunged his cock deep into her pussy.

She groaned, mumbling something the bit prevented him from understanding, and then her body suddenly seemed to melt as all her energy compressed to her clit and the walls of her pussy. Her pulsations rolled over his cock, drawing him in as he arched his back and shoved in to the hilt, spurting his hot come deep into his wife as she continued trembling.

Slipping his cock out of her, he quickly began unfastening the harness, freeing her muscles from the restraints. He removed her bit and she whispered, "Kiss me."

He kissed her as she carefully stood up from her prone position, flexing her sore muscles and gently removing her tail. Settling back onto the couch, he watched as she moved about in the dim light, her body so beautiful and free.

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fanfarefanfarealmost 11 years ago
the dangers of ignorance

It is a pity that DA no longer posts. I think "Pony Squad" would have made an interesting series.

Long ago and far away, when my wife and I were experimenting and exploring different facets of our sexuality. We visited our local BDSM groups and quickly realized this was not to our personal tastes.

While discussing limits and rules, we were told about a recent occurrence {then}. An in-experienced, wanna-be dom tried to master an young, in-experienced wanna-be submissive. Causing her severe injuries and trauma. The idiot booted her out, ordering her to return in a couple of weeks when she healed up.

In shock, she tried to pretend that she was okay and returned to her job. Her boss noticed her discomfort and saw the wrist markings left by stupid's use of handcuffs. There is a reason police still use metal handcuffs as the markings left are a quick way to tell that someone had been recently arrested.

The girl's boss turned out to be a militant feminist and she dragged the girl to the nearest Women's Clinic. Where the Doctor's quickly determined that the girl was suffering serious internal injuries. The Boss Lady went ballistic and with her political influence, she got the police involved and toot-sweet, stupid was on his way to jail.

Between vindictive Boss Lady and the outraged members of the local BDSM club, who did not appreciate the attentions of the authorities on their activities, the asshole was whipsawed. He had to pay a huge indemnity to the girl. He lost his professional accreditation. Did some jail time and all in all his life was rendered utterly miserable.

As a widower, last year I revived my interest in the local BDSM community. But have lost all enthusiasm {again!} for participating myself after close observation. SSC is suppose to be Safe, Sane, Consensual. I think it should be modified to Safe, SOBER, Consensual.

It was frightening how many practitioners of the lifestyle, Doms and subs alike, abused alcohol and drugs. It was a real turn off to realize that many of the subs are prostitutes, faking it to pay for their drug addiction. And, how many wives had been forced into submitting by abusive husbands or boyfriends.

Evisceration of public medicine and social safety net means there are only budget hobbled, overworked police available. And most of them will not make any extra effort to help those they see only as drug-addicted prostitutes.

Unfortunately, I do not see any realistic solution to these community problems. The political cancer of onepercenters leave little hope of civic/civil reform.

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 18 years ago
Interesting contrast

That was an interesting contrast between the guy he's trying to catch and what's gong on at home.

The part where he gets home is beautifully written.

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