Chapter One
The Stable Master’s Privilege
“Fuck yeah, you’re going to take it, take it all, bitch!” He pushed the woman down
onto his cock, forcing her full, red lips to the base. “No holding back! You’re going to
take it! Take it all! Every last inch.”
She moaned around his thick shaft, her vision stolen by the strip of cloth, her
hands bound tightly behind her back with red cord. Her tongue lapped at his cock as he
pulled her back up to the head of his swollen member, her lips pressing a soft kiss to the
tip before he thrust her back down. Down on his cock where she belonged.
The slave whimpered and sobbed around his swollen cock.
Good, she’d improved in the last few weeks from how she now serviced him. Improved
enough that he wouldn’t have to punish her, not this time at least. Not unless it amused
him to do so.
Her back was still marked from the last whipping she’d been given, and for a moment
the marks distracted him from the pleasure of her tongue on his cock. Then his train of
thought vanished beneath the play of her lips and tongue. Slick sounds filled the air. Her
hair tumbling forward over his groin in a waterfall of flame colored curls. Women like
this slave were easy to find, training them, however, took time and effort. In his years
on the Island he’d come to enjoy the use of the women, and that hadn’t changed.
Her lips and tongue rolled over his cock, tasting him, teasing, and delighting him
with her soft whimpers. Each new sound vibrated through his cock into his body, adding to
his growing pleasure. His entire focus was on the woman and what he was doing.
If I had to live without this pleasure, then life wouldn’t be worth living at all,
not a pleasant thought.
His balls tightened. He groaned, tipping back his head as he pushed her fully down
onto his cock, the head hitting the back of her throat as she swallowed, gagging,
struggling to take him in fully. Her body shook with the effort and he smiled. It was
obvious that her need for air fighting with her desire to please him.
For a moment he didn’t care if she could breathe or not. He didn’t care about
anything but that pleasure she offered him.
Her tongue wrapped around the head of his cock, licking, suckling as he drove into
her mouth. His cock twitched, throbbing, the struggle to hold on becoming harder with each
moment.
Fuck! Too soon, want to hold onto this, I- I have to… fuck…
He had to hold on. Hold back. He wasn’t ready to let it go, not yet at least. This
was too damn good to pass up.
He had no choice. It hit hard, fast and without mercy. Wave after wave of pain
tinged pleasure surged through his cock. His thighs tensed, hips lifted, his grip tight in
her hair until he felt strands snap beneath his grip. His seed filled her mouth, choking
her, forcing her to swallow it down into her stomach. Knowing she couldn’t, she daren’t,
spill any of it. Not if she wanted to be able to sit at any point in the coming week.
“She’s improved, I see.” A sultry female voice whispered against his left ear. “Not
long ago she would have spilled some of your seed, or gagged in the process of servicing
you. It’s delightful to see her skills put to good use after all the work that has been
put into her.”
“She had to, my Lady.” He pulled away from the slave, stuffing his cock back into
his pants. “Punishment is seldom something a slave enjoys. So, it was learn or be
punished. Something I am sure that even you understand, my lady.”
“Hm, I suppose so, but don’t you miss the companionship of a real woman, Stephan?”
She spoke softly, though the disproval was clear in her voice. “One who can stand at your
side as an equal, instead of kneeling at your feet as nothing more than a whore? Don’t you
remember what that was like, to have a woman at your side, Stephen?”
“If that had ever been a problem then I’m sure it’s one I could have easily fixed.
The Island doesn’t lack for real women, beautiful sensual woman in chains where they
belong…”
The woman hissed and stalked away, her hips rolling in a deep, sensual manner. Even
in her anger she was still beautiful. Oh, there was no denying that she was beautiful, but
stubborn. Not a pleasant mix in a woman when he was used to females who knew their place
in life.
He scowled, and shook his head as he watched the woman walk away.
Isabella, she’d never change no matter how obvious it was that her arrogant ways
were serving to annoy those around her. She’d never understand what she lacked as far as
he was concerned. Too proud, too arrogant. Being with her would have offered far too many
temptations for a man like Stephan. Ones that he would, and did, itch to indulge in.
However, stripping and beating a free woman of the Island was a crime. Unless, of course,
it was sanctioned by the Lord of the Island… and that, as yet, hadn’t happened – at least
not to Isabella.
He glanced at his watch and scowled afresh.
He was late.
Being late was not something he could afford to be. Not if he wanted to keep his
position on the Island. And he’d worked too hard, too long to waste all of that now,
especially over a female such as Isabella who would never know her true place in life.
The dark haired man kicked a trembling, red-headed slave out of the way as he
pushed to his feet and strode through the ancient castle. The sound of his boots rang out
against the stone, mingling with the soft cries of slaves put to use. Somewhere in the
dungeon a new slave was being taught her place, punishment rings forced into place in her
nipples and labia, as three other slaves were forced to watch the punishment. He smiled at
the thought, the show would be good for them, a stark reminder of what could happen if
they displeased one of the inhabitants of the island.
Did they understand the punishment was a mild one? That they would be beaten to
death if it pleased the free to do so?
Probably not. Not yet at least. That would change soon enough. It always did. They
were new, having arrived only two days ago, and now the second part of the shipment
awaited his inspection.
The fillies.
They could wait a little longer and I’m missing out on the fun down there.
They’d fit the slave with a dildo and plug once she was ringed, then the real fun
would begin. She’d be fucked. Her mouth used over and over again, filled with cum until
she couldn’t swallow any more. Another reason to be punished, then another, by the time it
was over, she’d do anything for the men who ran the dungeon. Anything at all, no matter
how degrading her mind told her the order was.
That was how it worked. The careful work with the slave. The growing punishment.
The fear of displeasing. It all combined to turn a slave into a gibbering wreck, or a
pleasing piece of female flesh, depending on how she reacted to the training.
Ah, the joy of watching a woman become a slave, there was nothing like it in the
world. They became a pure work of art under the hands of the right person. Hands like his.
He hesitated and looked back over his shoulder in the direction of the steps that
would lead down into the dungeon. They’d be holding the slave in place for the rings right
about now – always worth watching.
The placement of the rings hurt, especially when they were placed slowly, or with
thicker needles. There was no denying that, but they made a slut wet and eager to please…
still, he couldn’t neglect his duty to the Island, or the stables. He’d earned his place
as Stable Master, and to simply toss that aside because of a moment’s entertainment? No,
there’d be something better waiting for him amongst the fillies. Something only he would
be able to enjoy.
The first taking of a new pony on the Island was a special time indeed, or so he
believed. That moment where the filly discovered what it meant to be under his control,
beneath his whip and accepted his cock into her sweet, not so willing, body.
Stephan tapped the crop against his boots, his dark gaze playing over the newly
arrived fillies as they were lined up in the courtyard. Dark, light, lithe, pudgy, tall,
short, they ranged in type from the beautiful, to the ridiculous, but they would all be
trained for the same purpose. To become prize fillies in the stables of the Inquisition
Island.
“The one on the far left, the pretty one with the black mane, she’s got the build
to pull a buggy.” Taylor grunted. The older man with thinned grey hair had worked on the
Island for over forty years, and knew his stock.
“What about the one two down from her? The one with her chin lifted?” The one that
needs to be broken, brought low. Fuck, I’m hard just looking at her. He barely kept his
voice from becoming a growl as he watched her. He’d emptied his seed only a short while
ago, to feel himself becoming hard again so soon didn’t make sense.
Slaves didn’t have this affect on him. Not now and not ever if he had anything to
do with it.
“The blonde? She’s temperamental, I’m sure you can see it in how she’s shifting her
weight. She’s unsettled and not used to this, despite the basic training she’s all ready
been through. She’s going to take a lot of work, more time thank I would think you had to
spare, my lord.”
“Perhaps, but it will time well spent, one like her would be worth it. I can always
change my mind if it proves she’s not worth the effort.” Stephan smiled, and watched as
the blonde filly shifted her weight again from one foot to the other, her bare breasts
bouncing with the movement. How old was she? Twenty? Twenty-one? She was not much older
than that if he knew his fillies. They seldom brought in slaves who were older than twenty
five, too many bad habits to break.
This one – there was something about this one. What was it about her, the way she
moved? The curve of her body or the color of her hair? Perhaps the way she lifted her
chin. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but whatever it was, he couldn’t shut out his
attraction to her, nor did he see a need to do so.
“Keep still slut or I’ll give you something to dance about!” A trainer snarled
close to the female, his hand lashing out against her naked backside. “Do not push me,
slut. You’ll regret it.”
Crack!
The sound snapped through the air, sending a low cry of pain from her lips. She
danced forward, only to be yanked back by a tight grip in her hair. She whimpered, the
sound close to the distressed whinny of a four legged pony. Like all of the others, she
was blindfolded by the leather hood. Unable to see who watched them, who assessed them,
and who else was stood close to them. With her hands locked behind her back in a pair of
snug leather cuffs and her sight stolen, she like the others, remained helpless to the
whims of those around her.
“Her slave number?”
“Four three nine, according to the paperwork, and she was assigned that number ten
days ago.”
“Hm, I see. Well, take the rest to the holding pen, I want a closer look at that
one.”
Taylor shook his head and laughed. “Young, big breasted and blonde, I should have
guessed. You never change in your tastes in women. All right, have your fun then.”
“It’s all a part of the privilege of rank, I get to pick out a new filly for fun
any time I want. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. But it’s only as long as the Lord of the Island doesn’t take an
interest in them.” But Taylor was already on his way to the assembled fillies, snapping
out the orders that would take all but the lucky four three nine, to a holding pen, where
they would await their inspections and wash downs.
The blonde shook her head, her waist length hair whispered over her naked flesh and
she moved a little on the balls of her feet. A show pony, yes of course, she’d be perfect
for that. There was no mistaking the pride in how she held herself, or the nervousness in
how she moved. She was far too skittish to pull a cart, high strung – she’d need careful
handling, and perhaps in time she’d be one of the rare ones trained for dressage. Her
long, toned legs would be improved by the high step required in the prancing pace of a
show pony.
The filly stood there, trembling, her head bowed and still covered by the hood.
One by one the other’s were removed from the courtyard until only the blonde stood
there, her body claimed by wave, after wave, of trembling. For a moment he didn’t speak,
but stood there, watching the filly, waiting for her instincts to kick in.
Her head jerked up, her muscles tensing, her sun touched skin showed off her
features beautifully.
“I-is there someone there?” Her voice was little more than a soft, trembling
whisper as she spoke.
Stephan lashed out with the crop, hard and fast, across her naked breasts, catching
both of her breasts. She screamed and jumped back at the blow as a thin white line formed
instantly across her full mounds.
“Ponies don’t speak, remember that. They’re animals. You, my sweet little filly,
are a pony from this point onward. Do not make the mistake of presuming you’re human
again, it will not go well with you if you do so.” He tapped the crop against her left
breast at the end of each sentence, his gaze locked with hers. “Nod if you understand me,
slut. I can’t read your mind after all, and you need to be able to answer me in some form
or other.”
The blonde nodded quickly and uttered a low whimper that barely made its way past
the hood she wore.
“Good, very good my filly.” His cock hardened in his pants despite the use of the
red-head only a short while ago. There was something in this filly. It was something that
he planned on exploring to the fullest. He frowned, perhaps it was the way she lifted her
head. Or the color that crept out from beneath her hood to taint her full breasts.
Or the smell of her arousal. Fuck she’s hot right now, so damn hot, I don’t
understand how I can feel this way around her?
It didn’t matter, he’d fuck her soon enough. The temptation to take her now grew
almost out of control, but he wasn’t a newcomer to the Island, one ruled by his desires,
no matter how attractive the filly might be. And she was very attractive, there was no
denying that.
No, as soon as he had her secured in his personal stall, he’d fuck her. His gaze
lingered on the line of her back and ass. Her sweet white ass, how easily it would mark
from his crop. God. He’d beat her first, yes of course, he’d beat her until she cried out
and pleaded. It would heat her blood and her body both, with the blows that would rain
down on her sweet curves.
The marks. He could almost see them now, just by closing his eyes for a moment. Her
flesh would mark nicely beneath the crop. Her cries would become a song he’d come to
enjoy, a sirens song that would beckon the attention of any man, or woman, who heard it.
Stephan grabbed the filly by the hair and dragged her across the courtyard, his
cock thick and hard, pressing against his pants. His cock now all too eager to be loosed
on her. He needed to fill her, and stretch her, to feel her inner walls clamped around his
cock until he lost control.
He shuddered, playing the images through his mind, the sounds, smells, and
sensations of her body beneath his. He craved the delights of hearing her scream in pain
and pleasure. The look in her eyes, the smell that would cling to her body and the
wordless pleas that would fill the air. He needed them. Needed them from her.
There was no denying how he craved that. How he had come to need it as deeply as he
needed air to breathe. Nor was he living in a place where he had to hide his desires. Hide
his hungers from anyone.
The Island had been made for people like him and what the woman offered with her
sweetly tempting body, could not and should not be denied. They were addicting, and he was
an addict who now craved his next hit.
That was the privilege of rank, and one he planned on enjoying – now.
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