Page 286 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection

Watching Bren trot on her hoof-boots, tail swishing against her calves, nipple clamps jingling, makes a pulse thunder in my cock that drowns out the rat-tat-tat of her hooves.

Dots of water still glisten on Bren’s glossy, colorful hide. The room’s warm, and the water I hosed her down with was warm, too, because no matter how sassy she can be, Bren doesn’t deserve a cold shower. After I washed her and we collected her tack, Logan led us upstairs into a large, open dungeon with several stocks and pillories bolted to the hardwood floor. We passed a long line of kinksters still waiting at the entrance to the Stables and I’m glad we didn’t have to join that line. There’s something to be said for Logan’s VIP status at the club.

I settle on a lounger next to Logan, stretching out my legs and crossing my ankles. That relieves a little of the constriction of my pants across my groin. I’ve already shed the jacket I woreto lunch and now I roll up the sleeves of my shirt, movements Brenna’s eyes track. Lazily, I pick up a longe whip from the club-provided selection and crack it in the air a hand’s width from Bren’s ass. She flinches at the noise and stops trotting to stare at me.

“Chin up, shoulders back, my filly. I didn’t say you could stop.”

She throws her shoulders back and starts trotting in place again. Beside me, Logan chuckles. He’s got Emily face-down over the lounger while he works a tail-plug into her ass. She’s squirming and whimpering, and I gather the plug is bigger than she’s used to. Her pink hooves beat on the floor out of synch with Bren’s steady trotting.

“How many stripes should our little mares get if they break form?” he asks me conversationally over the squelching of the plug.

“Mmm, at least three. I think I have a talented filly here. Look at her trot.”

Logan glances at Bren and grins.

“Very talented.”

Bren starts to smile before her head snaps around at the sound of the gallery door opening. Good girl that she is, she doesn’t stop trotting. I praise her and stroke her shoulder as I rise and walk past her to greet the people who have entered.

Harry’s in the lead, holding his slender twink’s reins. Pence is in full pony gear, from hoof boots to latex body suit to harness and bit, his eyes shielded by blinkers. A step behind him walks the black-haired girl who was at lunch with Harry. She’s barefoot, wearing the black basque set of a house submissive, but no pony gear. Her hands are behind her back and as she moves away from the door, I see she’s handcuffed and leashed. Javier, a bald Dom I met at Logan and Emily’s collaring ceremony, holds her leash. I give him a nod and a smile. Wehad several good nights in Niagara Falls and I like his particular brand of topping.

Two men and a woman follow Javier, the second man shutting the door behind them. I don’t recognize any of the three. Both of the men are in their late thirties or early forties. One’s dark-haired, shot through with gray; the other’s a dirty blond. The dark-haired man has a full beard, deeply tanned skin, and lines etched around his eyes that suggest he’s spent a lot of time squinting against the sun. He’s big and broad, with a barrel chest. His black T-shirt overhangs his low-slung jeans slightly. The blond is a few inches taller, his body leaner, his face twisted by a scar that drags down the edge of his left eye and dimples his cheek all the way down to his chin. The scar pulls his mouth into an ironic half-grin. He’s also wearing jeans, but is bare-chested except for a leather chest harness. The blond leads the woman, who is in full pony regalia like Harry’s twink. Her body-harness and hoof-boots are burgundy leather and there’s a plume of black and burgundy feathers bobbing above her sculpted afro. Gray eyes peer out of her half-mask, a bright contrast against the dark red leather and her deep brown skin.

Harry introduces me to the newcomers. “Mac, these are the fellers from upstate that I told you about. Napa and his VP, Wreck. Their submissive is Napa’s old lady, Tiana.”

I shake with Napa, the dark-haired man who I figure is the club President, and his blond VP. Tiana gives me a respectful curtsey, which I acknowledge with a nod.

I introduce Logan, Emily, and Brenna. When I call Brenna “my girl,” I see Javier’s brow lift. I guess that tidbit hasn’t made the rounds yet.

“Your girl’s got nice form,” Wreck says, nodding at Bren. The glance he casts her is admiring but not lustful, and I appreciate the difference. “You think she’s up to a little competition?”

“I think she might be. Bren, stop trotting. Down on all fours. Come to me.”

I click my fingers and wait for the rebellion.

Bren was restrained, almost demure, in the scenes with the bikers, but here she’s in her element. Besides, ponies are well-known for being ornery. She drops to all fours and crawls to me, tack jingling, tits swaying. When she reaches me, she folds onto her knees, into the position I’ve taught her, and holds her head up proudly. Gorgeous girl. I see the gleam in her eyes and let my hand dangle by my thigh, in case my naughty pony wants to nip.

She doesn’t disappoint. She snuffles at my hand in warning and when I don’t move it, bites the fingers I’ve clicked at her sharply enough to make me grunt.

“Naughty girl,” I say, glowering at her as she holds my fingers between her teeth, grinning around them. “What happens to naughty mares who bite their owners?”

“They ge’ stripes,” she mumbles around my fingers.

“They do. They also get bred without getting to come. Wanna bite me again?”

She releases my fingers, giving the imprints her teeth have left in my skin a little lick as she sits back on her heels. She shoots me an incredibly sassy grin. “No, Sir. I was trotting for a long time without a sugar lump, though. Or even an apple. Just saying.”

That elicits chuckles all around, which Logan and Wreck try to cover but Harry, Javier, and Napa don’t even make an attempt.

“So, what you’re telling me is my naughty mare has no stamina?” I ask.

“No, Sir. All whip and no apple makes filly a dull girl is all.”

I can’t contain a laugh. Her sass just lights me up. “You haven’t felt the whip yet, girl, but that just bought you a kiss or two. Up you come.” I offer her my hand because her hoof bootslook stiff and even though she moves well on them, bending her ankles must be a challenge.

She takes my hand and struggles to her feet; watching her fills me with pleasure. Bren’s strong and agile but getting up off the floor will always be difficult for her with her injured hip. Her struggle adds an extra level of meaning to her submission.

Logan leads Emily over to stand next to Bren. Her rainbow tail swishes around the tops of her knee-high, pink hoof boots. The boots match her bridle and plumes. Emily’s a cutie, even for a baby girl, but Logan’s obsession with putting her in pink makes my eyes bleed from time to time. I’ll take my edgy, tattooed sammie any day.