Cool Down


                                            >Build a sturdy table in the basement with waterproof deck materials.

                                            >Pad it with some water/weatherproof patio furniture cushions.

                                            >Make sure to add some simple shackles and eye bolts around the perimeter.

                                            >Grab a hose, bucket and a few more items.

                                            >It's going to be hot next week, so put a bag of ice in the deep freezer so you're ready.


                                            >Next week comes.

                                            >Really hot.

                                            >Pony goes out to water the garden and the flowers.

                                            >Not even that hard of work.

                                            >Still sweaty and exhausted when she comes inside.

                                            >Let her collapse on the couch.

                                            >Once she is snoozing soundly, scoop her up and carry her downstairs.


                                            >When pony awakens from her little nap, she is restrained on the table.

                                            >"A-Anon?" she asks, looking around, testing her restraints a little.

                                            "Shhh, just lie back." you instruct her, placing a hand on her forehead and gently pushing it back down.

                                            >She looks up at you apprehensively.

                                            "You seemed overheated." you explain, stepping back out of view. "I thought you should cool down."

                                            >"I don't understand..." she says nervously.

                                            "I know." you chuckle. "That's half the fun."

                                            >Picking up a cup, you turn to a bucket of cool water.

                                            >Filling it, you use it to carefully douse a foreleg.

                                            >Running your hand against the grain of her coat, you repeat the motion, making sure the cool water reaches her flushed skin.

                                            >She hums appreciatively, and you move around the table to mirror the treatment.

                                            >Running a hand through her still dry floof, she squeaks in surprise before your other hand covers her chest in water.

                                            >Continuing to rub, you pour much slower the second time.

                                            >"Anooooon-"

                                            "Oh, should I leave your floof alone? Maybe move somewhere else?"

                                            >She strains her neck to look at you, nodding.

                                            "Okay, since you asked so nicely..."

                                            >Quickly you refill the cup and hold it over her exposed belly.

                                            >Without warning, you dump it on her, toss the cup into the bucket and go for the kill with both hands.

                                            "AAH! AHAHAHA! NONONO!" she gasps "Don't-don't tickle me! Please! Ahaha!"

                                            >Her begging devolves into gasping and shrieking until you finally relent.

                                            >As she lies heaving on the table, catching her breath, you continue.

                                            >Gently pouring water along one of her hind legs, starting at the hoof and coming up just short of her inner thigh.

                                            >You can hear her breath hitch as she expects you to move further...but you don't.

                                            >Instead you ruffle her fur as before and cover her again.

                                            >Wouldn't want to overstimulate and already overheated mare.

                                            >She lifts her hips just slightly as you come close, but you ignore it.

                                            >As you move to her other leg, she drops her rump and lets out a disappointed sigh.

                                            >Finishing the second leg, you refill the cup.

                                            >She's holding her breath.

                                            >There's only one part of her left.

                                            >You have to go there.

                                            >Pausing, you draw out the moment.

                                            >When she inhales, about to ask for it, you satisfy her question.

                                            >She sighs as a gentle stream of water hits between her splayed legs, cooling and stimulating at the same time.

                                            >Not so much fur to work with here, but you make sure to ruffle it wherever it may be.

                                            >This also provides an excuse not to touch her where she clearly wants you to.

                                            >You drift a hand across her hips, brushing along the very top of her exposed nethers before continuing onward.

                                            >This earns a frustrated groan.

                                            "Oh, I see." you say in mock revelation. "You rather like being touched there."

                                            >Her head comes off the table, looking at you with needy eyes.

                                            >"Please, don't tease me!"

                                            "Be a good girl and relax." you chide "I have only begun to cool you down."

                                            >In the sink (she can see the freezer) is the bag of ice.

                                            >Opening it, you take a few handfuls and add it to the water bucket.

                                            >Better let that do its thing for a bit.

                                            >While you wait, you pick up a nice sized piece of ice.

                                            >Returning to your restrained mare, you lean over to look her in the eyes, stroking her wet mane with one hand.

                                            >She smiles nervously, and you return her smile.

                                            >Then you bring the ice into contact with one of her teats.

                                            >She lurches up with a small gasp, and you push her head back down.

                                            "Shhh, relax." you coo, spiraling the bit of ice down her teat, away from her nipple.

                                            >"Anon....Master!" she whines, as you begin to wind your way up her other mound.

                                            "I know. But you're just too hot." you explain planting a kiss on her snoot. "Something had to be done!"

                                            "Oh dear, it seems you're getting too worked up again." you say, feigning concern. "I guess I'll have to move faster."

                                            >"Please! Just rut me!"

                                            "Hahaha, not yet, pet."

                                            >"Masteeerrrr..."

                                            >Testing the ice water with a finger, you find it just perfect.

                                            >Cold -very cold- but not freezing cold.

                                            >Filling the cup, you place a cupped hand over her folds.

                                            >She mewls pitifully as she bucks lightly at the contact, but you just smile and tip the cup.

                                            >Her mewl instantly rises to a scream as the icy water hits her marehood, with your fingers working to expose as much of her sensitive flesh as possible to the onslaught.

                                            >A second cup covers her teats and inner thighs, to more protests from your poor overworked mare.

                                            >When she calms down, she starts to whine again, but you silence that by sliding a finger into her.

                                            >A relieved sigh escapes her lips, which makes you smile.

                                            "Better, pet?"

                                            >"Yes sir. Thank you, sir."

                                            "Don't thank me yet." you say, as you begin to pour a trickle of ice water over her labia, continuing to work in and out of her as she hisses with the contact.

                                            >"Massssss-Master, please don't-" you don't hear the rest as you remove your hands to turn back to the sink.

                                            >A frustrated huff comes from behind you, and it takes all of your will to suppress a laugh.

                                            >Picking a golf ball sized chunk of ice out of the bag, you make your way back to the table.

                                            >Looking into your mare's eyes, she scrunches angrily at you.

                                            "Open." you command.

                                            >She looks away.

                                            >Taking her muzzle in your hand, you turn her head to look at you.

                                            "Open." you repeat. "Now."

                                            >With an eyeroll of protest, she opens her mouth, and you fill it with the ice chunk.

                                            "There. You've been a little to talkative."

                                            >She won't chew the ice.

                                            >She hates when people chew on ice.

                                            >Before she can try to say anything, you go back to what you were doing.

                                            >Beginning with a fresh piece of ice being applied to her hood.|

                                            >Ha!

                                            >Now that got her attention!

                                            >As you slowly rub the ice in a little circle over her clit's protective cover, you return your other hand to slowly delving her depths.

                                            >Without breaking your rhythm, you begin to move the ice down one fold and then back up, then down the other side and back up.

                                            >When the ice is all but gone, you leave the remaining sliver on one of her teats to melt, now running your thoroughly chilled fingers over her marehood, taking care to catch her lips between them and gently squeezing and tugging on them.

                                            >"Hnnnnnggg! Hmmmmnnn..."

                                            "Yes, you're almost ready. I agree."

                                            >"Hmmn?"

                                            "No, not right now. I said almost."

                                            >"Hrrrgh."

                                            >A quick rap on her hood with two fingers causes her to flinch and you feel her contract around your fingers.

                                            >Hmm.

                                            >She's very close.

                                            >You can always wait...

                                            >With one hand continuing to plunge in and out of her, you fish through the bag of ice for a long cylindrical piece.

                                            >Removing two sticky fingers from your heated pet, she groans in disappointment before you force them into her mouth, pulling the ice out.

                                            "Tongue out."

                                            >She complies with a grunt.

                                            >Your fingers return to their ministrations, to her pleasure, and you begin using her tongue to smooth out and shine up the ice.

                                            >When it it satisfactorily shaped, you put the original, now somewhat reduced, ice chunk in her mouth and take up a position behind her.

                                            >As you pick up the pace with one hand, tapping gently on her hood with a thumb as she starts to wink, you place the slick bit of ice against her backdoor.

                                            >Her hips are mid buck as she freezes in place, letting out a surprised yelp as you force the ice into her.

                                            >Just barely holding onto the slippery implement, you twist it a little before leaning over and placing your mouth over her clit.

                                            >You barely have enough room to work, but work you do.

                                            >It's a contortionist nightmare for a human, but the now writhing, struggling and moaning mass that you once called your slave seems completely enthralled by what you're doing to her so you don't dare stop now.

                                            >You've made her work for this, and she has (grumpily) risen to the challenge.

                                            >So on all fronts you advance.

                                            >You work your fingers in and out of her faster.

                                            >Harder.

                                            >You spin the ice, now dragging your ring finger along the tense knot of muscle holding that ice in place.

                                            >When she winks, you chase her clit like a bird after a worm.

                                            >And you are not above using a little teeth when it hides again.

                                            >As he shouts reach a fevered pitch, you take a single finger and push the ice all the way inside of her.

                                            >With a surprised yelp she bucks so hard she nearly pushes you off of her, her body locking into that position as she screams through her half-melted gag.

                                            >Slowly it subsides.

                                            >Her hips tremble, then collapse.

                                            >Her shoulders follow.

                                            >Her chest heaves up and down and you can hear the slurping sucking of air around ice.

                                            >Your hand is drenched, and not just with ice water.

                                            >Slowly you remove your fingers and step back.

                                            >You admire your handiwork for a moment, then fill the cup again.

                                            >Kissing her forehead, you remove the ice from her mouth.

                                            >Brushing back some messy strands of mane, you pour some cold water across her forehead and kiss it again.

                                            >Setting the cup aside, you release her and she begins to curl up on the table.

                                            >Grabbing some towels, you carefully swaddle her and scoop her up into your arms.

                                            >Sitting against a wall, you lean back, cradling your still quivering mare against you.

                                            >"M-master?"

                                            "Yes?"

                                            >"You didn't want me?"

                                            "I did."

                                            >"Then why didn't you take me?"

                                            "You were too close. I would have interrupted."

                                            >She looks up at you, not comprehending, one eye covered by a corner of towel.

                                            >Pushing the towel out of her face, you lean in to plant a kiss on her muzzle.

                                            "This wasn't about me, silly." you explain "This was for you."

                                            Fin.