Brand New

by Synthean
- do not use without permission.


It had been an hour, since he did it to her - long enough for anger to become greater than the pain. It was not the cuffs that she hated - the ones fastening her, bent-over, to the steel frame bolted to the concrete floor of the barn, with her burning ass thrust invitingly out into the cool air. Nor was it the new bit between her teeth, nor the branding, itself, agonizing, though that had been. These were things long awaited – the natural course of the pony play that grew in passion with every passing week.

But what the fuck was this? He just left her here, alone! Now, her cunt burned almost as much with frustrated desire, as her ass cheek did, with the lingering heat of the iron.

She could neither stand straight, nor sit, nor rub her tender butt, nor even wipe the drool from her chin. As the silent minutes passed, the thrill of submission gave way to the cold reality of being owned – forever marked as property by the brand she now wore.

By the time he finally returned, she understood. The pony bit restrained her tongue; but even without it, she would have remained quiet. The urgent pleas of a lover were no longer hers to voice. Her lot was now the patient obedience of a slave.

Still, as he casually prepared her harness, and the cart she would pull, she made bold to glance back at him, and attempted to smile, as much as the bit would allow.