The Notnilk Prophecy

The following material is the exclusive property of RND, and may not be reproduced or republished in any form: electronic, print, or otherwise, without written consent from RND.

RND authorizes Sir Jeff's Ponygirls to feature

The Notnilk Prophecy part 2 Pony Irene

The following is from a larger work that clearly establishes the story as total fantasy, and general theme as consenting adult behavior. Any valid review for censorship purposes must peruse the whole work! Although random excerpts may appear to show non-consenting themes, within the context of the larger work-of-fiction, such situations are presented only as dreams by consenting adult characters. The complete work is entirely make-believe, however, and should not be viewed as bearing malice toward any person, gender, race, or institution. Resemblance to any real persons or institutions is coincidental. All characters in this work-of-fiction are "Adults".

If you are under 21 years of age, or if such material is illegal in your community:

DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER!

If you are offended by "adult" themes, non-consenting themes, B&D, S&M, or make-believe situations that would be inappropriate in real-life:

DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER!

If you cannot separate fantasy from reality, or can't control your conduct:

DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER!

GO GET SOME HELP!

and,...

DON'T READ ANY MAIN-STREAM FICTION;

DON'T WATCH TELEVISION,...

and especially,...

NO ROAD-RUNNER CARTOONS!

For those into this genre of fiction,...

ENJOY!

( p.s. special thanks to Sir Jeff for demonstrating how fab the web can be )

-9-

Thirty minutes later.

"Who-o-o-o-o-o-o-e-e-e-eee!", Samourah beamed, as she wiped Donald's forehead with a cold washcloth. "Dat wuz sho-o-o-o-re one heck of a poking-performance! I'll say one thing, yo got yo-self a regular stud-muffin here, Mizz T.!"

"Tell me about it!", Tristin giggled. "He's got the gift that just keeps on giving! Tee! Hee!"

"Well, if whad he just did to dat pony is any indication, I'll be 'spectin' to see a mighty big grin on yo face from now on! Heh! Heh! Heh!"

Samourah eyeballed a beaker containing Donald's enormous spending --- flashing a look of disbelief. Any reservations about his ability to keep up with Tristin's libido, had been completely expunged by the spectacle just witnessed:

His having dropped his pants;

grappled Suzanne's big tits;

dry-boned her on the spot;

blowing a humongous wad;

then spinning around glassy-eyed and jabbering;

flashing the giddiest expression imaginable,...

before passing-out!

"Oh-h-h-h-h-h... my... head", Donald sputtered.

He was just starting to come around; once again in a beach-chair.

snip!

"Mnnng-g-g-g-g-ghtghtght! Sob! Whinny! Snort!"

"Here you go, Samourah. Tickle his face with this. It'll make for a warm-n-fussy awakening!"

Having discarded the freshly-snipped braid, Tristin sternly addressed it's benefactor.

"Not nearly still enough, horsy! Not by a long shot! It's all coming off, you know, whether you cooperate or not. The difference, of course, will be what happens after we get done shaving you!"

snip!

"Nooonng-g-ghtght! Sob! Whinny! Snort! Sniff! Whinny!"

"See what I mean, horsy! Here's another for the tail-maker!"

"Wha... what's that!", Donald sputtered; jerking bolt upright, rubbing his face.

"Hey, nice to have you join us again, sleepyhead", Tristin teased. "Don't fret, that was just Suzanne's hair tickling your nose."

"It felt like a bug! And whadaya mean Suzanne's hair? She's still trussed-up over ther...."

As the cob-webs cleared, Donald's larynx froze in mid-sentence --- choked-off by the floor-show.

There was Tristin,

grinning nastily,

naked but for step-ins and nipple-rings;

wielding scissors against Suzanne's scalp;

flaunting another freshly-cut braid!

"Isn't this just the best", Tristin gushed! "Look at it! It must be 70 centimeters! Can you imagine what a fabulous tail it'll make?"

Donald stumbled to his feet. His dick slapped bellyward. Yipes! He was naked too!

"Wo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-e-e-e-e-e-e-e!", Samourah chortled. "Dat's one big-ole dick yo got dere, Professah! I'll say it again, Mizz T., yo one lucky gal! Yas indeedy!"

"Errr... ahhh... Tris,... w-where's my c-clothes?", Donald asked. "And your's t-too, for that matter?"

"I took mine off, silly! Shearing this filly is getting me mighty steamed. My pussy needed some air! Besides, when we're through, she's gonna wanna show us some gratitude! Know what I'm saying? Tee! Hee!"

"When we're through?"

"And as for your clothes, darling", Tristin continued, "Earlier, when you'd ripped your pants off,... well,... let's just say they were beyond repair. So after you'd passed-out, Sniggy and Poon undressed you."

"Sniggy and Poon? Please, Tris, say it wasn't Sniggy and Poon!", Donald pleaded.

"Oh don't worry, silly. They didn't do anything other then strip you. Besides, they were much more interested in convincing Suzanne to remain still when I do this!"

snip!

"Nawgawtghtght! Whinny! Sob! Whinny! Sniff! Whinny!"

"See! A pony can't help getting agitated loosing this", Tristin giggled, flaunting another cut-off braid. "Heck, the poor girl needs all the holding-steady help she can get!"

Suzanne absolutely withered in the gamy bondage, snorting for air, titties jiggling, sleighbells discordant, pelvis more unsettled then O.J. at a dance recital --- all the while struggling to maintain huge cheekfuls of man-goo.

snip!

"Plegdgrgdgrggaaaaaah! Sob! Sputter! Snort!Whinny! Whinny!"

"H-How exactly did Sniggy and Poon make her so cooperative?", Donald asked thickly, watching another braid hit the floor.

"Have a look southward, darling --- where you'd been conducting business earlier. Then take the round-trip tour. You'll notice some changes!"

Donald circled the totally nude pony, boner wagging like a divining rod.

The hover-boards had been moved hugely apart, providing a fabulous undercarriage view. Suzanne's clitoris sported a gleaming position-sensor; labia a half-dozen rings. So far, nothing different.

Dildos peeked from her asshole and pussy, secured by cables --- one buried crackward --- another garroting her waist. That was new! ( she sure as heck hadn't been stuffed when he'd been slamming-the-ham earlier )

Whip-weals glowed from belly-button to toes. Those were definitely new! And wow --- talk about thoroughness!

A ladder-like motif spanning knee-to-puss!

Dozens more criss-crossing the big bottom cheeks.

Zebra stripes up both soles.

And that'd just been Poon's handiwork.

To view Sniggy's, you had to look ( surprise ) tit-ward!

"Wow!", Donald exclaimed. "I'll bet those hurt!"

"Well,...da-a-a-a-a-h!", Tristin replied, rolling her eyes. "A girl's titties are one of her most sensitive areas, you know!"

"And they're such a deep scarlet hue!", Donald continued. "A lot different then the welts on Irene!"

"That's what a #5 fluidian will do, darling! Those marks will last for a whole moon-week, not just a day, like you get with a #3."

"I take it we u-used a # 3 yesterday?"

"Yep! W.T. got a reprieve!"

"W.T.?"

"Tee! Hee! Yes, silly! W.T.! It stands for Wiggly-tits! That's gonna be Irene's pony-name! It'll eventually be tattooed on the back of her scalp."

"But how can you do that? I mean, with her having such a plush mane and all?"

"Oh, darling, really!", Tristin giggled. "You ivory-tower bohemians do have your heads in the clouds! Tee! Hee! Hee!"

snip!

"Nooeeeeeght! Whimper! Sniff! Sob! Whinny! Whinny! Whinny! Whinny!"

Before Donald could counter, Tristin changed the topic.

"She's getting too spooked again, Samourah. Let's settle her down. Dial up a 2.5!"

"Yas, Mizz T.. A 2.5 it be! Stand yo self back, now! Yo too Mr. Baxter!"

"Tris, w-what's going o...?"

Bzzzzzzzzt...

"Gunhunhnunhnun-p-p-thtr-gahhhhhghghgh! Sputter! Sputter! Snort! Whinny! Sob! Whinny! Sob!"

Samourah had pressed a remote-control button. Sparks erupted --- lighting-up Suzanne's dildos and skewerings --- jolting her into a tonic fit.

Girl-muscle writhed;

digits fanned;

eyes rolled;

tits lurched;

cut hair stood on end;

clitoris wiggled like a jumping bean!

...zzzzzzzaht!

"Agaahahahahaaaaaattth! Whinny! Snort! Sob! Sob!"

Tristin intently eyeballed Suzanne.

"I don't enjoy disciplining you, horsy. Honest I don't! But the beat will go and on and on, if necessary! Get my drift?"

"Sob! Sob! Snort! Whinny! Boo! Hoo! Grunt!"

"Now, what say you count-off each snip! That'll give you something to concentrate on!"

"Tris", Donald cut in, "how in the h-heck is she g-gonna count with her mouth balloo...?"

snip!

"Noooe-a-a-hnananh! Snort! Whinny! Sniff! Grunt!"

slap! slap!

jingle! jangle! jingle!

snip!

"Mngghthhthg! Sob! Sob! Whinny! Grunt!"

slap! slap!

slap! slap!

jingle! jangle! jingle! jangle! jingle!

"Tee! Hee! That's how, silly! Hand-hider ponies communicate by slapping their tits!"

"No focking way!"

snip!

"Gru-u-u-u-nstp! Snort! Sob! Whinny! Grunt!"

slap! slap!

slap! slap!

slap! slap!

jingle! jangle! jingle! jangle! jingle! jangle!

"Way, darling!"

snip!

"Mg-g-g-tpfth! Sputter! Whinny! Snort! Sob! Gr-r-r-r-runt!"

slap! slap!

slap! slap!

slap! slap!

slap! slap!

jingle! jangle! jingle! jangle! jingle! jangle! jingle! jangle!

"That's a good horsy!", Tristin praised. "Concise and oh-so jiggly! Very pony-worthy indeed! Now jut yourself even more, and beg Mr. Baxter to finish you up. Give us six perfectly synchronized tit-hiccups!"

"Errr,... Tris", Donald stammered, "maybe we should jus....."

"Mg-g-g-grunt! Sob! Whinny! Grunt!"

slap! slap!

jingle! jangle! jingle!

slap! slap!

jingle! jangle! jingle!

slap! slap!

jingle! jangle! jingle!

slap! slap!

jingle! jangle! jingle!

slap! slap!

jingle! jangle! jingle!

slap! slap!

jingle! jangle! jingle! jingle! jangle! jingle!