Carol Becomes A Pony Girl

This is a fictional account of a very real woman. Carol has a fervid desire to submit to a strong-willed, very well endowed, young, black man and is waiting for the nerve to act. Blaine

*

"Blaine," Carol giggled, clutching his arm so tightly he could feel the heat and swell of her breast, "how do you know these people?"

Blaine lifter two fluted glasses of champagne from the servant's sterling silver tray and handed Carol one while she gawked at an opulence she'd never before experienced in real life. The manicured lawns and carefully tended gardens appeared to be right out of Buckingham Palace. The gathered guests, including Blaine and she, looked as if they belonged with the aristocracy attending Royal Ascot. Most probably did.

Carol's already unusual day had just become more exciting and, as she had yet to discover, would become more extraordinary still.

The men, dressed in top hats and tails, and the women, with their wide-brimmed, feather-festooned hats, all in glittering gowns similar to the one Carol wore, albeit no nearly as brief, went out of their way to make her feel welcome. "You look marvelous" was the catch phrase of the day. And Carol felt marvelous as well.

As Blaine and Carol strolled the grounds sipping Dom Perignon, she felt a naughty squishiness beneath her silk thong and she smiled. They began chatting with a couple named Mildred and Roger. The conversation waned as Blaine excused himself leaving Carol in their care for the moment, and Carol's mind drifted back to earlier in the day.

~ * ~

Carol made her way through a raucous crowd of a late afternoon party at a club well known although not to women of her age. The people inside were all extremely attractive and a generation younger. She smiled to herself as she made her way, looking for Blaine. Carol had certainly acquired a taste for hot young cock ever since she'd met him, and this place was jammed with delicious young men.

A hot looking Scandinavian type with huge muscles and almost no shirt wrapped his arms about Carol's waist as she tried to squeeze past. He thrust his hips against her bum and whispered, "Want to be my cougar?"

She was extremely flattered and a little bit turned on as he pushed his face into her hair. He was certainly many women's "type" in more ways than one.

"Mmmm," Carol said, turning to face him, feeling his hands drag across her hips and bum as she turned, feeling her cunt beginning to betray her, feeling her tits rub across his granite pecs, arching her back so she could press her womanness against his maleness, moving her arms behind his neck.

Fuck it,

she thought, if Blaine was going to send her into this den of temptation, he should expect her to be tempted.

"I'm meeting someone." She stood on tiptoe and gave him a peck on the lips before moving on.

"Tease," he laughingly hurled after her.

Carol stood with her arm on the bar scanning the crowd but didn't see Blaine. The bartender approached, placed a glass by her arm and said, "You must be Carol."

"How did you know?"

"Blaine described you...very unjustly I might add." He flashed her a dazzling smile.

Christ,

Carol lamented,

Brad Pitt finally notices me and I'm un-fucking-available.

"Where is Blaine?"

"Someone will be out shortly," he said, sliding the glass toward you.

"What's this?"

"Blaine said you'd like it."

Carol sipped cautiously at first; it was delicious. The rum and blackcurrant both warmed and relaxed her. A very nice young black male in his mid twenties approached the bar.

"We're over here," he said, leading Carol toward the back without specifying who "we" was. "In here," he said, opening a door and letting her enter alone.

The room was rather small and windowless. She waited rather nervously for about ten minutes before a very young black boy entered carrying a garment bag and several boxes.

"You Carol?" he asked. She nodded.

"I'm here to help you dress," he said.

"I'm already dressed," Carol replied, eyeing him warily because he was only a few inches taller than she and looked to be in his mid teens. "How old are you anyway?"

"I'm eighteen," he said puffing out his chest, then added, "and I'm not short everywhere."

I'll just bet you're not,

Carol imagined wistfully, eyeing the young man up and down with a briefly more extended stare at his crotch, wondering if she'd be fortunate enough to arrive at more than just a conjectured opinion.

"What are you supposed to help me dress into?" Carol asked, deciding not to press him on the apparently touchy subjects of maturity and stature.

From the garment bag he removed a beautiful, sequined dress that was only slightly longer than a shirt.

Looks like Blaine wants to show me off a bit,

she thought smiling.

Wonder where he's taking me? Another poker game?

"Where am I supposed to change?"

"Right here," said the young man.

"And where will you be...what's your name anyway?"

"I'm Harry...Harold, and I'll be right here helping."

"Well Harry Harold, I don't think that's such a good idea. I'm old enough to dress myself."

"Blaine said I was to stay here. He gave me specific instructions on what I'm supposed to do."

"And I'm supposed to put that on," Carol said, gesturing toward the dress, "while you watch just because Blaine said so?"

"He said you could call him if you didn't understand and he'd explain things to you."

"Just those words? He'd explain things to me?"

"Not those words exactly."

"What exactly did he say?"

"He said if that cunt gives you any shit, tell her to call me and I'll straighten her the fuck out. I have his number if you need it."

"I'll pass," Carol said. "You seem to know more about what's going on than I do, so it's your move."

The black kid went over to Carol, unbuckled the belt on her jeans, opened the fly, and began pushing them down. Dumbfounded, she let him. As her pants reached her knees, the boy hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her knickers and lowered them down to her jeans. She shivered excitedly in place as the black youth began to disrobe her.

Carol's jeans and knickers reached her ankles together and she kicked off her loafers before stepping out of her pants. Harry picked everything up and placed it carefully into a bag. She was naked from the waist down and he began rubbing the back of his finger against her smooth pubic mound.

"What are you doing?" Carol asked, taking a step backward.

"Blaine said I should check to make sure you shaved."

"Blaine knows I always shave for him."

"He said I should check."

Carol stood stock still while Harry resumed stroking her pubis, moving his fingers up and down causing her cunt to react and her juices to flow more freely.

"He wants me to check in between here, too," Harry said, pushing his hand between Carol's thighs.

She widened her stance allowing the black teen access to her innermost intimacies. He slid his finger up and down her channel. He massaged the area around her clitoris to make sure no pubic stubble remained. He even inserted his long finger up to his second knuckle into Carol's pussy and dragged it around. She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth in an unsuccessful effort to suppress a moan.

"Ooooooooh," she shuddered.

"Am I hurting you?" Harry asked, withdrawing his slickened finger from Carol's wet box.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" he asked, pressing the issue.

"I'm fine," Carol repeated, feeling her face flush red, embarrassed that she couldn't control her body with this boy.

"You didn't just piss on me, did you?" Harry asked, rubbing his wet, slippery fingers together.

"It's not pee."

"Well you're awfully wet down there."

"It happens. Do I pass inspection?" Carol asked, changing the subject from a very, very intimate one to one that was just very intimate.

"You feel smooth to me."

Harry began unbuttoning the buttons on her blouse. When he was finished, she helped the young man disrobe her by slipping it off her shoulders and handing it to him. He put it in the bag with the other items. He went behind her and unclasped her brassiere. He pushed his hands forward, dislodging the cups from her breasts and, in the process, cradled the white globes in his large black hands.

Carol shuddered yet again as his rough palms slid against her hardened nipples. The bra joined the rest of her clothes in the bag. She was completely naked before this young black stranger who was pawing at her tits.

"Now what are you doing?" Carol asked, closing her eyes and biting her lip while young Harry squeezed her nipples and pulled them out from her tits.

"Blaine said to do this."

"Why did he want you to do that?" she asked trying to sound normal while the huskiness in her voice was anything but.

"He didn't say, just that I should."

Carol's nipples were standing straight out, hard, red, and proud, and her cunt was leaking juices down her legs. Harry opened a box he'd brought in and took out a silken thong. He held it out and she stepped in. He pulled it up to her knees before reaching for a tissue. He dabbed the absorbent swab up your thighs and against her vulva, before pulling the thong into place. He had her turn around so he could part her arse cheeks and center the thin, back, thong strand over her anus.

The young, black boy continued dressing Carol, attaching a garter belt, rolling a pair of stockings up her legs and affixing them to the suspenders, slipping on a pair of glittering stilettos that matched the gown, and finally helping her into the strapless evening gown itself.

He ogled her as Carol examined herself in a full-length mirror. She tried to tug the hem down to mid thigh but her breasts threatened to spring free. Harry came up beside her and cupped her breasts.

"I don't think you need a bra, do you?" Harry asked as he held Carol's tits and moved them about.

How can I let this kid do this to me?

Carol asked herself.

I'm willing to let some teenager see me naked and feel me up just so I can suck some black guy's big cock? What's wrong with me?

But she had no answers for herself, just an aching need.

Carol saw Harry looking down at the front of his jeans. She looked there as well. It was obvious he was erect.

"Blaine said you'd do something if this happened," Harry said, cupping the bulge with his hand.

"What did Blaine say I'd do?"

"He said you'd know."

Carol sighed deeply and sank to her knees. She rubbed her hands against the hard boy-dick, feeding her lust. He opened his fly and took it out for her. It was beautiful, long and thick and black. She murmured quietly as she caressed it and pressed her lips against it. Soon it was in her mouth and Harry was bucking his hips at her face.

Carol knew it wouldn't take long given his age and state, but before he rewarded her, he pushed her mouth off his cock.

"What's wrong?" she asked, breathing heavily. Her hand had wandered under her dress and he'd interrupted her orgasm as well as his own.

"Nothing, just Blaine said if we did it this way, you had to take the dress off first. He said you were always letting it spill down your front and he didn't want the gown stained."

"Oh please!" Carol protested, pulling his cock forcefully toward her yearning mouth, eager to resume her own climb to a breathtaking climax.

Harry held his hand against her forehead, preventing her from recapturing his dick with her lips. "You have to take off the dress first," he reiterated.

"Fuck!" Carol muttered to herself as she stood and removed her dress while Harry stood there watching, looking so tempting with his big, hard, black cock straining for relief.

Soon she was back on that beautiful, young, black meat propelling him toward his orgasm as well as securing her own. He groaned once releasing jets of fresh, young cum, flooding her mouth. Carol flopped around like a beached flounder as her fingers ravished her cunt.

She was still kneeling, her breathing less laboured, as the black phallus slipped from her lips. Carol's eyes were closed but she could feel the string of cum that still connected her mouth to his cock slit. She looked up into his young eyes and whispered, "Thank you," and felt the cum string break its connection.

Carol smiled to herself, knowing that she'd have to apologize to Blaine later for the piggish way she'd fingered herself without permission. Ever since her bull had put her on her hand and required she to ask permission before she was allowed even to play with her own cunt she struggled in a state of high agitation. Never knowing when she might be given permission to masturbate caused the desire to finger her pussy to escalate exponentially.

"Blaine said I could do more," Harry told Carol, his cock still sticking straight out from his body.

"What more?" she asked.

"This," he answered, lowering Carol down onto her back on the carpeted floor and kneeling between her legs.

She certainly wasn't going to turn down the opportunity to get fucked even though his cock was surely more than her cunt could accommodate without a struggle. Harry inserted himself into Carol's sloppy pussy and began stroking. After the third time he'd gone too deep, clumsily crashing into her cervix, she protested.

"Let me ride you," Carol offered, urging Harry onto his back.

Much nicer, she thought as she undulated her cunt up and down his shaft. Carol felt another release building and she moved more quickly seeking it. Suddenly, a phone rang.

"Could you get my cell?" Harry asked calmly, like he didn't have the hottest piece of white arse in the city fucking him. "It's in my pocket and I can't reach."

Carol twisted around without releasing his cock and felt in the pockets of his jeans bunched around his ankles until she found the phone.

"Hello," Harry said matter-of-factly while Carol humped his dick. She could only hear half the conversation as this cheeky kid talked on his phone while she desperately fucked him. How humiliating to be thought so little of. "She's right here. Yeah, riding my cock. Sure, you can come in, there's another hole back there."

The door opened and the man who'd brought Carol to the room reentered. He quickly removed his jeans and positioned himself behind her. She felt him try to insert his cock into her arse but he was too big.

"I can't get it in," he complained to Harry. "Let me get some of her goo on it."

The slightly older man pulled Carol off Harry's cock and shoved his own in causing her to quake. He stroked his dick in and out a few times coating it in her slick juices. Carol moaned loudly as the thicker, shorter phallus sent her into her second orgasm.

Just as she began to climax, he withdrew but she quickly sat down on Harry without missing a beat. The second man aimed for her arsehole but missed. He pushed roughly into the same hole his friend was already banging.

Carol screamed at the top of her lungs as the sudden pain seared her, but the boys were too consumed in their own mounting pleasuer to hear her. They stroked together for several seconds and the pain turned into the most exquisite pleasure Carol had ever felt. She just lay there and let them possess her until Harry spoke.

"Get your own bloody hole," he growled.

The other man withdrew leaving Carol somehow half empty despite having one of the biggest cocks of her life still in her. Quickly, the withdrawn cock was inserted into her rectum. This time it slid in effortlessly and Carol was filled to the brim and beyond again.

One black man rode Carol's arse as she rode young Harry's dick. She began climaxing again immediately and continued the longest orgasm of her life as both young blacks sated themselves in her body.

Before Blaine picked her up, young Harry and his mate cleaned Carol up, including the cum that had dribbled from her mouth, wiping her legs, her oozing arsehole, and her sloppy, gooey pussy. They even pushed a two tampons into her cunt and one into her arse to mop up their cum before it could seep from her holes.

"How was she?" Blaine asked the two young black men as Carol stood by anxiously clutching his arm.

"She was just like you said, mate," answered Harry, "right down to needing to have her dress off for the blowjob because she would have stained it for sure."

~ * ~

"Ladies and Gentlemen," a voice borne of generations of aristocratic breeding boomed, "tonight we have a new pony joining us." A chorus of oohs and aahs rippled through the crowd. "Please join us inside."

"What's going on?" Carol asked Roger and Mildred. A feeling of mild apprehension formed in the pit of her stomach.

"These are always delightful fun, my dear," Mildred said, guiding Carol by her elbow.

"Where's Blaine?" Carol asked, her voice showing increasing concern.

"I believe we'll find him already inside," said Roger as the trio walked toward a glass enclosure.

Inside, the building had the look of a miniature dressage ring. The distinguished gentleman who'd called everyone inside mounted the three steps of a small stage and held up his hands to quiet the room.

"Tonight, we have one of our most popular pony masters. Everyone, welcome back Blaine!"

Polite applause sounded and Carol watched as Blaine approached the stage and bounded up without using the stairs. Behind her, Carol heard a woman saying, "I love Blaine, he brings us the most wonderful ponies."

Blaine had changed and now wore the breeches, white shirt and tie, helmet and gloves of a dressage rider.

"Good evening," Blaine said and Carol could feel Roger and Mildred at her elbows, urging her forward. "Tonight I bring you Carol. She is forty-seven and a very proper mum. She is also a wonderfully submissive slut."

By that time Carol was at the steps to the stage and Blaine held his hand down to her. Hesitantly she accepted it and joined him on stage. Blaine picked up a black lead made of braided silk, placed the loop around Carol's neck, and pulled it snug. He could see a shudder go through his pony-to-be.

Using the silk rope, Blaine led Carol around to stage to the applause of the audience. Back in the center, he tied her lead to a hitching post and circled her while holding his hand out in Carol's direction like a master of ceremonies at a talent show. The applause continued. After circling her twice, he stopped behind her and pulled down her zipper. Carol's gown was strapless and it dropped to her feet.

Carol was standing in her knickers, garter, stockings, and glittering shoes. Her nipples poked out in reaction to her concern, her embarrassment, and, mostly, to her arousal. The people watching the black man and the white woman applauded louder as Blaine again circled Carol. Then, undoing the lead from the post, he paraded her around the stage again.

The crowd around the stage pulled back as Blaine led Carol down the steps and moved her onto the dressage course. A number of women held light whips and as she passed by, she felt the sting of their lash across her bottom. She jumped the first time and started to speak until Blaine held a finger to his lips. As she saw a whip being raised, she tried to move away like a skittish filly. Blaine yanked tight on the lariat around Carol's neck pulling her into line.

"Ouch," Carol said as a whip struck her sharply. Blaine pulled Carol's ear close to his lips.

"It's considered polite for ponies to offer a soft whinny at the stroking of the crop," he admonished.

Carol became determined to take the strikes silently rather than make the sound of an animal. As the couple turned around and headed back to the stage, the leather of the whips smacked erotically against her cherry red bum but she suffered silently.

"I told you," Blaine growled, pulling her head next to my his again, "to whinny! It's fucking polite! Now whinny you fucking cunt or you won't be sucking my cock tonight!!"