Standing by the door, I indicate the large gear bag. You perk up, the club is always fun but there is only one reason for me to break out the worn old duffle bag. It's heavier than usual too. Holding the handle with both hands we leave and walk the short walk to the bus stop. The ride isn't long, but seems like forever. Something inside the bag is filled with a thick liquid which glugs occasionally as it shifts. You shift in the seat in excitement, it's been ages since the last time you got to suit up and these stops are only making it worse.
Finally, the bus arrives by the warehouses. Two blocks down the lit street and the converted unit bleeds lights from the row of tinted windows along the top. The club looks busy, and we take a place in line as the bouncer allows people in at a steady drip. When you finally make it in, you can see the stage is set up for a show. The dance area is filled with tables and chairs, people are mingling instead of enjoying the usual thumping party. You tug on my arm, and ask what is happening tonight. “There are a few kink shows happening.”
You nod, my vague reply par for the course by now. “Let's watch some of the show before we play!” I say, as I lead us over to an empty table. Presently heavy wooden stocks are pushed out onto stage by a pair of submissives, nude save for bridles, who are then locked in place. A pair of leather clad dommes walk out, girlcocks swaying as they do. One uses a crop to warm up on the first sub, as the other places her member in the subs' mouth. The beating grows in intensity, but the sub never breaks stride, bringing the domme to climax on the sub's face.
The dommes swap subs and positions, the show continues. The first sub stays as quiet and unmoving after their performance as the second did while listening to the first's beating. The riding crop now spraying droplets of sweat around the stage as the beating continues. Both of the silent, unwavering subs show off incredible amounts of self control and pain tolerance. Releasing their subs, the dommes walk them through the crowd by leads, showing off the deep purple welts covering both abused asses.
Grabbing you by the hand, I pull you away and over to one of the playrooms that run around three of the walls of the club. The door squeaks softly as I shut it behind us, before I take the bag from your hands and set it on the bench, where I unzip it and being to pull out gear. As you tug off your outfit and fold and place it on the bench you watch my pile the hoof cups, tail, crop, and bridle on the end. Next, a large paint can emerges out from the bag as well, then sweep your pile of clothes into the bag and zip it back up. Sliding the hooves next to you, I step behind you with the bridle and slip the fine worked leather over your face. The smell of the oils and the leather itself sends tingles down your spine as I tighten the clasp around the back of your head. “Finish getting ready, we are next.”
You ask sheepishly where your body suit is, hoping I didn't forget it at home. “We won't need that tonight, I have something else in mind instead. Now, hurry we don't want to keep everyone out there waiting do we?” You blush and shake your head, jangling the metal of the bridle. Stepping into the foot cups you bend down and fasten the buckles. Taking the opportunity, I swat your ass with the crop. The impact mark fades quickly into your skin. Sliding your hands into the front hooves, I fasten those clasps and attach a lead to your collar.
Taking the can and your tail in hand, I lead us out the door. The stage is clear by the time we walk to the steps, and all eyes are on you and your almost naked body. “Tonight, I shall turn this humble pet into a pony worthy of awe and admiration!” The crowd claps quietly. Undoing the lead from your collar, I whisper, telling you to strike a pose. You rear back, showing off your chest and girlcock. This is met with another round of polite applause from the audience. From behind you, a loud pop. Like a can of paint being opened.
As I walk in front of you, you see the can I carried is filled with a thick black liquid. However much it might look like paint, it smells faintly of plastic. I set it on the stage. In my other hand I have a small brush, which I dip in the liquid I then brush on your calves. The liquid is far colder than you expected, but you resist the urge to flinch. Slowly you feel me apply a thin coat of the material to your lower legs, down to the cuffs of your hooves. More of the liquid runs up your inner thighs as your girlprick starts to flare.
I paint up to the base of your member, leaving most of it uncovered. The cool liquid turns warm on your legs as it cures, leaving a dry coating that moves and bends as your muscles flex and strain to stay in position. Another wet plop and I begin covering your ass. You snort softly as the bristles tickle you while working between your cheeks. The brush clanks in the can as I let it drop. A few moments later, pressure at your ass then the familiar plop of your tail plug and your cheeks burn under your bridle while the crowd chuckles.
It isn't long until I have your back and stomach covered as well. Your legs feel fully dry now and the curing heat has dissipated. The brush clanks again and you feel my hands rolling your nipples back and forth, pinching and squeezing between thumb and forefinger. Once your nipples are fully hard, I start painting your chest. Working the brush between your cleavage and over both nipples I leave your nice, ample, perky nipples poking under. As I cover your arms, you can finally see the thick liquid as it is applied all glossy and black.
Finishing the fast drying latex around your wrists, I daub some around your neck blending to your chest. The stage lights finish drying your painted latex suit within another minute. As I run a moist finger down your back, you hear the latex squeak, then feel my crop. I reattach the lead to your collar, then walk you around the stage and through the crowd. Your uncovered girlcock rages from the attention and the sensation of the plastic on your skin. Guiding you ahead with my crop, I hold the lead and drive you around the club.
Finally, I stop you at the edge of the stage where your forehooves can rest on it. The lead drops onto the stage, and my hands reach around you. One squeezes on your breasts, kneading and pinching through the material. The other strokes the underside of your girldick. Taking my hand away from your chest, I slowly work the base of your tail plug deeper into you. Your member flexes and twitches in my other hand as the plug touches your prostate. Wrapping my hand fully around your girlcock, I slowly stroke from the base, to past your tip.
My hand collects a slick of moisture from your member and strokes back down smoothly while I continue to push and pull the plug into you. The wells of pleasure start building in you, and you whinny not so softly before biting your lip and catching yourself in embarrassment. Faster and faster the plug rubs inside of you. My hand pauses near the head of your girldick and teases under it with a fingernail. As the pleasure from the plug builds and wells inside of you, you feel the seal around the latex break and the tail plop out only to fall.
Wiping my member with your flowing juices I push into the gap left by the plug inside of you and begin stroking you again. My girlprick is much larger than the plug was and you cry out as it slides all the way into you. All you hear is the squeak of latex as I pound your ass. My hand speeds up stroking your member as mine speeds up penetrating you. In and out, down and up. I rub on your prostate as my hand tickles under the head of your girldick. The slapping of my thighs on yours and the peeling noise as they separate fill your head.
Your body tenses as the pleasure quakes within you. Shaking your head, you send them the metal parts of your bridle rattling again, then clop a hoof on the stage. Spurts of your seed hit the edge of the stage, piling on the lip before sliding down to the floor. Sweat beads down your neck, and the rest of your seed rolls down your thigh, each liquid adding an extra sheen to the latex. With a thrust so hard I slam your hips into the edge of the stage, my hard girlcock sends ripples of my pleasure, and my seed, through you. Breathing hard, you let your weight rest on the stage as the audience claps and I clean your mess up with a small towel from the duffel bag. Grabbing the lead, I tug and you follow me back to our playroom. Even after I shut the peep window, a soft squeaking can still be heard outside.