How swiftly plans could change.

Esmerelda was sprawled on a comfortable camping chair, her black hair tumbling down in messy curls around her shoulders. Her dark, twinkling eyes roamed over her campsite, taking satisfaction in its layout, and its privacy. Placed inside one of the many wonderful and expansive parks that the relative wilderness of central Canada could offer, the solitude of such spaces was a soothing balm for Esmerelda. Finding it hadn’t been especially difficult of course, but that she had been able to spend nearly a whole two days in place with nary a sign of other humans (apart from her companions) was a relief. At least, for her.

She grinned, her eyes flicking over to the two companions in question, one at a time. The boy, Evan, or Ethan or some such thing, had proven to be an endearingly easy training project. He now knelt in front of her, naked of course, and still webbed up in leather straps holding him in a boxtie. Her leather collar now wrapped around his throat claimed him for all the world to see as her pliable little slut. The tight chastity cage that kept his cock locked away from anyone but her reinforced that particular point. The cool breeze sending goosebumps racing up and down his form, and making him squirm slightly, torn between wanting to move to warm up and his desperate desire to not irritate her with unauthorized movement. Though she normally kept him hooded, just now his sight was stolen only by a blindfold, leaving his mouth free of its usual large rubber cock gag. It allowed her to play with him…

Reaching out a hand, Esmerelda took hold of her slut by his hair, treasuring the small moan he made as she grasped it, and gently but firmly guided his panting mouth in between her thighs. She closed her eyes, luxuriating in the feel of his by now increasingly eager tongue, mentally picturing those big brown eyes of his as she enjoyed his attentions. How they had been so filled with desperation on that first night. How that desperation had slowly changed tack, from wanting release, to wanting pleasure. She kept him sealed away in a little alcove during the day while she drove, strictly bound and listening to audio training tapes on a loop. All senses denied to him apart from feeling the strict leather, and listening to her soothing voice. Instructing him on all the wonderful perks of being a slave. Sometimes she’d press an ear to the door of the hidden compartment, and occasionally be rewarded with his barely audible moans of pleasure, desire, and all consuming lust

Once she had finished the day’s travel she would pop him out to play with him. A few hours of pleasure training, guiding him through her favourite ways of being pleased with his tongue. Whispering of future opportunities he might have of getting to used his locked and chastised cock. Enjoying his plaintive moans at the opportunity that she had thus far denied him. And then she would use him as a snuggle slave for the remainder of the evening, before locking him away again at the start of the day. Her slut had turned out to be a quick study, and it only taken a couple of rotations to mostly break him in. A gratifyingly enthusiastic, if not overly skilled lover, she already had great plans for him for the remainder of her trip.

And potentially beyond even that…

“Such a sweet boy, pleasing your Mistress, hmm?”

Her slut moaned into her, his ministrations never ceasing. That had been one of the first lessons, only needing one or two harsh reminders before he grasped it. She enjoyed his moans and his reactions, but they must never interfere with his duties as her pleasure slave. She stroked the top of his head absently with one hand, her gaze turning to her other prize from that night.

Her fiery cyclist.

Her, as yet, unbroken toy.

The girl had proven to be quite the difficult capture, and Esmerelda was thankful both for her own intensive fitness routine, and that she had clearly happened upon her feisty captive at the end of a long bike ride. Esmerelda had just managed to get her cuffed and gagged, and then forced inside the RV, all while the girl had fought her fiercely. Hollering into her tightly gag, and making every effort to burst free from Esmerelda’s grip and restraints. A few chains had locked the girl in place once inside the RV, and then Esmerelda could slump tiredly into the driver’s seat to flee the scene, her newest captive furiously struggling and providing a series of muffled threats to season Esmerelda’s desires.

As with her boytoy, Esmerelda hadn’t bothered remembering the girl’s name. She had begun a similar training regime for her, tough bondage and sensory deprivation during the day with audio training, accompanied by a few hours of hands on training in the evenings. But the girl still struggled, still did her best to escape at every possible opportunity. Esmerelda was confident that some portions of the audio training were sinking in, but the fiery spirit of her female captive was something that she wasn’t even certain she wanted to break anymore. Not fully at least.

Her eyes traced up and down the girl’s mostly naked body, lingering on the tight profusion of straps that encircled her torso. Alighting on the strict armbinder that pressed her arms together behind her back, making her elbows nearly touch and forcing her captive to thrust her naked breasts out in a most pleasing fashion. Esmerelda had decided to make the girl a pony slave, and had delighted in informing the furiously mewling young woman that her new name would be Scarlet Fury. She had even managed to find a decent pair of pony boots for the girl, after a quick dip into a fetish store she had found en route, and could now enjoy the sight of her Scarlet Fury carefully walking in a circle around the pole that her reins had been tied to, planted about ten paces from where Esmerelda lounged.

“How’s my sweet little filly today?” Esmerelda called out, her hand continuing to brush and stroke the top of her slut’s head, “Feeling better to be in your proper place?”

Scarlet Fury’s eyes flashed dangerously as she came around her turn, but with a thick bit gag in her mouth she could do nothing but mumble imprecations into her gag and glare angrily at the woman who had kidnapped her. Esmerelda had styled her pony girl’s long red hair to intricately integrate with the girl’s head harness, giving her a redolent mane of red that cascaded across her shoulders. Every time Scarlet Fury angrily shook her head, it was a pleasing sight for the grinning traveling domme, and Esmerelda did so enjoy needling the pony girl about her newly submissive status. Here was someone who certainly was not submissive at all. Which would make it all the more enjoyable to have her as a captive pet.

Esmerelda was increasingly certain that that was just how she wanted to keep her Scarlet Fury. Trained, of course, but not so far as to remove that wonderful spirit of resistance. There was something rather attractive in having a pony slave that remembered her former life as a normal, and indeed practically dominant, person…

A restive, spirited pony made for a far better experience than a docile, broken in pet, in Esmerelda’s firm opinion.

“Get those knees higher!” Esmerelda suddenly snapped, her free hand groping for the nearby remote. Scarlet Fury’s response changed from a muffled curse to a shrill whinny as a shock coursed through her. Esmerelda grinned as the girl’s eyes went wide, and she began to properly high step around the pole. When she came around again, still glowering at Esmerelda, the domme gave her pony slut another good zap. That finally got her out of the rut, and kept her head facing straight forward. Esmerelda delighted in the raging conflict of emotions she could see dancing across the girl’s face.

That was the other aspect of balancing the girl’s spirit. Her boytoy slut didn’t need shocks to remind him of his place or to ensure his obedience. Scarlet Fury did. Which was why the little nodes had been placed with care over her nipples, and integrated into the chastity belt that was her constant companion. Getting your most private areas shocked all at the same time had a wonderful effect in concentrating her mind temporarily away from resistance to reluctant acquiescence.

Esmerelda suddenly gasped as her boy toy’s tongue finally began truly pressing her towards her first orgasm of the afternoon. She hooked a leg behind him to ensure there was no possibility of him accidently squirming out of place, and then continued to stroke and pat his head as she gave herself over to the pleasure of his ministrations. She didn’t bother to keep quiet. Neither of her toys had been allowed to cum since their capture, and it did both of them well to remember that the path to pleasure lay through pleasing their new Mistress. The slut was moaning into her, little whimpery gasps of pleasure as he drove his Mistress ever closer to the cliff’s edge of orgasm. He wasn’t the best provider of oral that Esmerelda had ever had. But what made him precious to her was that he was her slut. Her captive. And she never had to give him up at the end of a session, or once a party was over. He was hers until she was done with him. If she was ever done with him.

It took him a few more minutes of half-skillful worship, but eventually Esmerelda’s legs were clenching around her head, and she was crying out in pleased relief. Her boy kept licking, knowing better than to stop before ordered, even as her legs tightened around him, and his face was drive even more deeply against her. In her post-orgasmic bliss, Esmerelda flicked the remote control again, buzzing her pony girl with light shocks this time, and making the girl squeal.

“Just because your Mistress is getting pleased, does not give you the excuse to start slacking, or to gawk, my sweet little filly,” Esmerelda chuckled a little breathlessly, “Good pony girls don’t pay attention to human games. And bad pony girls get shocked, don’t they?”

The question was rhetorical, and her pony knew better than to try answering by anything other than straightening her posture and silently trying to settle back into her rhythym. Those sharp green eyes still stabbed out at her whenever she came around the curve of her turn, but not to an extent that Esmerelda felt like shocking her. Especially as her boy toy began to build her towards a second orgasm. She loosened the grip of her thighs around his head, allowing him to draw his head back to suck in a few grateful breaths, and then forced him forward once more. Back to his task.

“You know slut, if you keep doing so well in your training, I think I may take off that chastity cage the next time I play with you.”

Her boy gave a loud, plaintive moan of pure want and need into her. She could see his hands clenching and scrabbling in his bonds.

“Wouldn’t that feel nice? Your Mistress’ hands on your cock? Being brought to your first slave orgasm by your Mistress?”

She felt him nod. Heard him moan. And patted his head as she watched her still unbroken pony girl trotting round and round the pole. Her two vacation slaves, developing so nicely into their niche roles. And still so many weeks of fun ahead.

Esmerelda settled back in her seat, her pleased grin widening into a satisfied smirk.

She needed to seriously think about doing this sort of thing more often…