the bottom as a public playground

The second, mezzanine level of the college library was quiet on this dark afternoon. The sound of the heavy rain outside was all that could be heard, a rain that was quickly turning the snow into slush. A slush that this time, according to the forecast, would not freeze overnight. It was taking a while, but the deep freeze this north country was famous for had broken and it was warming up, if ever so slowly. Tami Smithers was parked at her usual table in her usual position. One leg curled up, the other heel up on the table, her foot facing in, markers of various colors slotted between her toes. With her left hand she was grading papers from the remedial math class she tutored, selecting the appropriate marker according to her own system. Red = incorrect, Black = correct but incomplete work, Blue = correct, Green = helpful comments. Next to these papers were a couple of textbooks. Her backpack was on the chair next to her. She worked quietly in the quiet library. ​ Another creature lurked nearby. At first it was just a shadow in the stacks behind her. Watching, waiting . . . It was Rosaria, tall and athletic with cropped hair, travel pouch around her waist. In wool jacket, leotard top, tights and long wool socks over her duck boots, looking like the Latina lesbian she was. She silently circled in front of the table and, when Tami looked up, she leaned across the table and kissed the big toe. Standing back at attention she whispered, “My Queen.” Tami smiled and whispered, “In a minute.” A quick glance down told Rosaria the reason. Tami wanted to give her students’ work her undivided attention. Rosaria sat down at the next table and pretended to text message on her cell phone. A moment later Tami put the papers away, took the markers from her toes, stretched her arms back, her breasts riding high on her chest, and sighed. Rosaria’s mouth almost watered at the slight scent that issued. No doubt it had been several hours since the Queen’s last release. Gracefully she removed the chair next to Tami, bent under the table, and sat cross-legged in front of her altar. It was then that Tami emitted a quick, sharp gasp. As Tami read her text with quivering hands Rosaria did what she had learned so well to do. A moment later the sudden long breaths, then the jolting hips, told her she was successful. Tami turned the page as Rosaria laved the engorged lips for a few seconds with the Queen’s nectar and then gently rolled them back into her mouth. In less than a minute Tami went up again. The edge having been taken off, this one was longer, more peaceful. Rosaria kissed the palace entrance gently, then scooted around behind to plant a kiss on the naked girl’s butt. In response Tami got up on her knees, transferred one knee to the next chair and bent forward, her head over the edge of the table as she kept reading. Rosaria separated the chairs and, tall girl that she was, could sit cross-legged while reaching up to insert her tongue in a different place. Queen Tami was very considerate of her subjects and kept herself clean and well-irrigated for the benefit of those who wished to enter her palace from the rear. Now she bestowed on Rosaria yet another reward, the sound of her Queen’s pleasure. “Mmmmmm...” All the while Tami kept reading, now and then emitting an “ohh. . .” or a little gasp. Now her subject inserted fingers into her pussy so that the tongue could play off against them. And, of course, the G spot, playing off the fingers of the other hand pressing rearward against the clit. Soon Tami was shaking violently and, another gift, Rosaria sensed her laying her forehead down on the text until the spasms were over. Then with a deep breath and a slight smell of sweat, Tami, future valedictorian that she was, went back to her assigned reading for her English Literature class. That she could concentrate on it and be able to retain it afterwards was in no way taken as a sign of disinterest. It was just part of her mystique. It was some five minutes later, when Rosaria, exploring the delights of Tami’s rectum, was in the middle of enjoying Tami’s fifth orgasm of the session, that Ms. Tami Smithers was approached by Sarah Wickland. Sarah Wickland, in-law of Henry Ross, the evil college lawyer, author of Tami’s freshman year torments, who had escaped outside of her reach as well as of everyone else’s. Sarah Wickland, law partner of Brian Cook, whose “rent” at his Pacific coast estate had been to have all his female tenants stay naked, a sore trial for Nina West and company but just a part of everyday life for Tami. Sarah Wickland, whose clients tended to specialize in bondage and discipline, and included the Cronenberg School, and Taft McNamee and his trade in pony girls. Yet for all the strange things she had seen in her business, Sarah was quite unprepared for what she now witnessed as she drew near. Glad to see Tami after a space of two years and, expecting that Tami, having finally trusted her, would be glad likewise, she stopped when she saw the look of orgasm on her face and, upon further viewing, the clothed, crossed legs visible behind her on the floor. She stopped. Then she continued. She signaled behind her and another woman, a little older than Tami and strikingly beautiful, obediently emerged from the stairwell and followed her. Not sure how she should handle this situation, Sarah smiled as she stood at the table. Tami smiled too, or tried to, while keeping her eyes determinedly open. In the clutches of orgasm the look in her eyes changed instantaneously. She was a surprised friend, a sleepy fawn, a scared child, a lost soul, a witness to a birth, the Creator of the Universe, an eager girl scout, a sprinter straining for the finish line, a proud countess, a gambler counting cards -- fear, love, death, life, redemption . . . every emotion except the one Sarah expected, shame. “H - hi Ms. Wick - ck -lannnd,” Tami said. “Hi Tami. You just won’t call me Sarah, will you? They told me I could find you here. Is this a, uh, bad time to talk?” “N - not at all -- ohhh!” Sarah pulled up the chair across from Tami and sat down. “I bring you greetings from Taft McNamee and his board of directors.” As she spoke the other woman, in a bulky black leather coat and spiky black boots, approached but stayed standing behind her. She wore a studded collar that nicely set off the gorgeous face. Tami looked up and nodded to her with some effort. “This is Katie, one of the ponies from the farm. You might remember her. She was your stable mate for a short time.” Tami’s head jerked a bit as she looked up again. There might have been a look of recognition but her kaleidoscope eyes made it hard to tell. “Hi.” Katie looked at Sarah, who said, “You may speak.” Katie said, “Tami, you were called ‘Naked’ when you were with us ponies. I have been elected to say on behalf of all of us, thanks to your bravery the lives of all ponies are greatly improved and we will always be grateful.” Had Rosaria been listening, she would have found this exchange quite arresting. But she was in another world. Tami experienced the noodlings of Rosaria’s tongue in her rectum, and the fingers bringing her to another orgasm, as she continued to engage in conversation. “Th - thank you,” Queen Tami said from her throne. Rosaria inserted her snake-like tongue extra deep, and was bestowed with a royal flinch and gasp. Sarah,having watched Tami’s all-fours orientation, already had figured out what Rosaria had been doing. During this entire time Tami did not break eye contact. Sarah was about to instruct Katie to speak again when Tami launched into a climax, especially violent due to having been left near the peak. Tami seemed waiting for Sarah to say something but it was Sarah, ironically, who was too distracted to continue. The quaking naked student and the well-dressed lawyer looked at each other across as wide a gulf as two human beings can look. When Tami had come down again Katie spoke. “We bear a gift for you.” She looked to Sarah, who said, “Tami, your trials while you were trying to prove that you had been falsely corralled made a great impression on the farm and indeed on the entire pony girl culture. You were tested by Taft and his board and did not betray your parents even while the tail you were wearing was being made to press against your ovaries. Taft had told me that this was the maximum level of pain that any master was allowed to inflict in his or her pony, equivalent to a man being hit in the testicles. Further neurocerebral research shows that is incorrect. In fact, the pain you experienced is more equivalent to a man having his testicles placed in a vise and gradually tightened until they rupture. “This discovery, as well as your example, had a profound effect on the pony farm directors, particularly the men. It forced a change in the pony system. As you know, it is an entirely voluntary and humane enterprise. Key to this is the new model of tail. We would like you to have one.” Katie, drawing from a bag hitherto concealed within her coat, brought out a highly polished wooden shaft about a foot long with a beautiful, multi-colored tail of what looked like horsehair about twice the length of the shaft, and carefully draped it across the table. “UHH!!” It was Rosaria’s strangled scream, issuing from behind Tami. ​ Tami, eyes wide open, moved forward a bit and Rosaria fell backward to the floor. The naked girl quickly leaped back and picked Rosaria up, without much effort hefting the tall young woman and sitting her on the table. Rosaria had her hand to her mouth and was in tears. Sarah and Katie looked upon all of this with puzzlement and alarm. Rosaria put her head against Tami’s breasts as Tami held her head close. “I’m sorry, Ro.” She looked up to Katie. “It’s not your fault, Katie . . . Let me see.” Rosaria tentatively stuck out her bruised tongue. “Looks O.K. Don’t worry.” Again, Tami held Rosaria against her breasts. Then looked up. “Sorry for the interruption. Seeing this . . . thing . . . well it was, like, a shock. My anus contracted.” “I should have asked her to take her tongue out first,” Sarah said. “I’ll never forget what Figvee said to me. ‘Her rectal tone is amazing’.” Tami smiled as if she should feel she was being complimented. Meanwhile Rosaria disengaged from Tami’s embrace and said, “I think . . . bleahhh . . . I think I’ll be all right. Her thphincter is tho thexy.” She giggled which gave everyone else permission to laugh, including Katie. Tami took the tail into both hands. “This was the most humungo thing that was ever in my butt,” she said objectively. And that was saying a lot. “I was so totally impaled, like a specimen of a butterfly.” Sarah brought forth a little remote and pushed a button. Amazingly, the wood was not wood, it was a convincing plastic imitation. In Tami’s hands the tail began sinuously twisting, like a snake. The naked girl gasped and then, after a long moment, started to giggle. “This is so weird!” “Tails used to be for pain,” Sarah said. Now they’re for pleasure. The protrusion you see coming out now is designed to rub against the G spot and various other places in the vaginal wall through gentle pressure on the rectal wall. Now masters control their ponies not through punishment but by withholding the reward of orgasm.” “Reinforcement, rather than punishment,” Tami said. “Or I think. I’m trying to remember back to that Intro Psych course I took.” “Precisely. And reinforcement is a more powerful motivator. Our ponies have become orgasm addicts, and to get their reward they will do things for their masters that they didn’t in the past. Everybody wins.” Tami looked at the tail in her hands again, apparently deep in thought. “It is yours, Naked,” Katie said, “whether you want to use it, or just keep it as a token of our affection and gratitude.” Tami smiled. “‘Naked’?” “That is how I remember you.” “Your pony name was never officially changed, so that’s how you still appear in the farm records,” Sarah said. “Of course, your status is listed as ‘released from contract’.” Katie said, “I remember how you wrote that call for help on that post-it and reached around with your toes to put it on the stable door.” ​ Tami said, “I thought you were sleeping.” Katie smiled. “We real ponies are more aware than you think.” Sarah said, “Katie is quite an intelligent woman. She and her master have become a professional writing team, writing in technical journals, in the field of heuristics, I think.” “Ohmigod . . . Amazing!” Tami enthused. “I took a course that last year. Wow. I feel like I should get your autograph.” ​ Katie said, “I even wrote a story about you. It’s about how you got into clothes again.” ​ Tami looked at her a long time. A thoughtful, faraway look. ​ Sensing the visit had run its course, Sarah said, “Tami, here’s my card. I gave it to you on a previous occasion but, um, you didn’t exactly have a place to put it. Don’t be a stranger. And of course here’s the remote.” ​ And with that, Sarah and Katie said their goodbyes and left. Rosaria went back to Tami’s embrace and they sat there for a long time, in the quiet library mezzanine with the wind and the slushy rain pounding away outside.