Author's Note: Professional sports coach, Mike, is asked by amateur athlete, Bryony, for some help in preparing for her local race. From the title you can guess what it might involve. I was going to publish this in two parts as it has taken some time to write but there have been a couple of cracking stories of this length in the last couple of months (well done to Alcatraz for 'Phoenix' and Southrook for 'The Kingdom') so here it is in it's entirety...

The setting reminds me a little of the Mirkada stories. I hope this brings a similar degree of pleasure.

Please feedback, we author's love comments !


Chapter 1

'I'd like to come and visit you.' It was a bit of a last minute thing and I knew it sounded lame but I'd enjoyed Bryony's company over the course and I thought she'd enjoyed mine. Besides she'd hinted a couple of times that she'd appreciate a little 'extra coaching' after the course finished.

'Yes, that would be nice.' She flashed me a smile and ran her hand through her shining red-copper hair.

I shrugged as she turned away. Oh, well, it was worth a shot.

'Mike !'

I turned back and saw her smile in a way that I'd seen her smile at me a couple of times in our short acquaintance, a smile that seemed to say she found me as attractive as I found her. For a moment she seemed to be thinking about something and I felt a tingle of hope. Then, suddenly she was walking towards me and putting her arms around my neck; I felt the brush of her breasts against my chest, the firmness of her body and then her lips were on mine. It wasn't a long kiss or a deep one, no tongues and no suction, just a good old fashioned snog that went way past friendly.

'That's just to make sure you don't leave it too long.' She said. 'And bring your kit. I'm going to be calling on your professional skills too.'

Then she turned away and I watched her go with sudden rush of pleasure and a very stiff feeling in my trousers.

Two weeks later I was on the train to Plymouth.

It was early May and quite warm so I had to smile when she met me at the station wearing an orange cotton wrap around summer dress and, as far as I could tell, not much else; she certainly wasn't wearing a bra. She was just as pretty as I remembered, probably more so, with her red curls that shone in the sunshine and her little impish face with its mischievous blue eyes and her enticing red lips. She was one of those girls with a slightly turned up nose and prominent cheeks that dimpled when she smiled.

I got another snog and, as her breasts brushed against me again, I got the distinct impression that I was feeling more than just hard nipples. I couldn't help looking down.

'Yes, they are.' She grinned at me as I blushed. 'Perhaps I'll let you look at them more closely later.'

Then she took me by the hand and lead me to the little silver convertible I'd seen her driving when she'd attended my course. Even as we left the car park she guided my hand onto her thigh.

She lived in a run down farmhouse on the back roads up to the moor just outside a little village called Mars-de-Launce. We parked in a stable yard and she lead me through a garden that was pretty though clearly not well maintained into a typical farmhouse kitchen.

We were barely inside when she turned and kissed me again. This was a full snog and she clearly wanted tongues too. Feeling her body against me was delicious, her breasts, her belly her thighs, there was nothing I could do to cover my own response and, as my cock pressed hard against her I felt her smile.

'Let's get this over with shall we.' She pulled away from me and tugged at the sash of her dress pulling it open. She was naked underneath. Her body was lovely, small and pert, freckled skin, perky little breasts and toned belly all below a layer of fat that just softened it to stop her being skinny. I could see her nipple rings too, black and quite broad, like wedding bands and, intriguingly, vertical through her nipples.

'Since you're so interested.' She grinned and guided my hand to her right nipple, encouraging the tip of my finger into the ring.

'A mare who's lead by her nipples is always obedient.' She said somewhat cryptically.

I was still wondering what she meant when she started kissing me again and dragging me back towards the big oak table behind her. Still kissing, we bumped against it and she wriggled up to sit on it then she lay back. Her arms were still in her dress but it covered none of her body. I could seen a V-shaped tan line below her neck and marks from a strappy top she must have worn in the sun; the tops of her breasts were sunkissed too, the freckles darker than on the underside. For a moment I found myself disappointed that she didn't sunbathe naked; certainly her home was remote and there were no neighbours to overlook her. Then, realising she was looking at me expectantly, I took the opportunity to pull off my shirt.

'Nice.' She smiled and then looked down expectantly.

I unbuckled my belt and opened my trousers.

Her smile broadened.

Her pubic hair was the same red curls as that on her head and I could tell she was wet as the tip of my cock pushed against her sex; sliding across the slickness of her labia. I was drooling too and I teased her sex gently enjoying the sensation as my cock slid over her pussy.

'You won't get me to beg that easily.' She laughed and wriggled towards me trying to force herself onto me.

I didn't need any more encouragement and pushed inside, almost trembling at the sudden thrill of entering her, excited by her gasp. Then I leant forward and she pulled herself up to meet me, pressing her body against mine, her arms around my neck, her lips on mine.

'Oh, yes. Oh God, yes.' She ran her fingers through my hair.

I pushed up, lifting her, still impaled on my cock and she clung to me tightly.

'Oh, good boy !' She clearly liked that.

We fucked like that for several minutes as she kissed me and murmured her pleasure and then I felt her sigh and the pressure on my cock diminish as she climaxed.

'Fuck ! I needed that !' She was breathings hard as I was.

Now it was my turn and I pushed her back onto the table, thrusting into her as she opened her legs wide climaxing again at the same time I did.

We lay panting for a few moments, still locked together, sweat slick between our bodies and then she tousled my hair.

'Good boy.' She said. 'Now lets go and have some real fun.'

She cast off her dress completely and lead me out into a concrete yard where she'd parked the car; she was delightfully and completely naked and her back view was as delicious as her front; her pert bottom had a gentle roundness and there were dimples at the base of her spine. I could see more tan marks, the outline of straps on her back.

I followed trying to decide if I should take off my trousers or zip them back up. I elected to keep them on and managed to force my cock back inside, a little disappointed that she wasn't taking me to her bedroom. However, she had said 'fun' and perhaps, as a country lass, she wanted a tumble in the hay; I'd never done this but was happy to give it a try.

There was a long, low outbuilding with a number of stable doors and a sheltered walkway running in front of it, though, as far as I could tell, no horses so I was surprised when she opened a glass fronted door and lead me into what was clearly a tack room. A wooden rack of straps and bridles stood in the centre surmounted by a very small saddle that I guessed must be for a miniature pony; there were other straps hanging on the wall and a couple crops and whips too; at the back of the room was some sort of gig with spoked wheels and a little seat; again it looked designed for a miniature pony. The smell of leather and saddle soap was strong and, in present company, rather exciting; I had a brief vision of using some of this gear for a little light bondage, something I've always been excited by though had never actually tried.

Bryony bent down and took some gear from the rack, the movement gave me a perfect view of her pussy so I didn't see exactly what she picked up. Then she went to one of the wooden pegs on the back wall and took down what looked like a bridle.

'Here.' She turned round and handed me an armful of stuff, black leather straps and some sort of simple leather saddle that she draped over my outstretched arms; she lay the bridle on top and then several coiled leather straps that might be reins.

'Put them on the rail outside and come back to help me with the gig.'

I could hardly refuse. It was a while since I'd ridden but a naked girl was going to ride with me and I was hardly going to refuse. I imagined us on horseback, her sitting in front of me, naked as I guided the horse towards a stream where we would dismount and make love again... Then I remembered I wasn't a very competent rider and that she'd said something about a gig.

I came back in to find Bryony pulling on a pair of boots; they were black leather and shiny and came up to her knee.

'Here.' She stood and gave me a long whip, a shaft about two meters long and then a long leather thong attached to the end. 'I don't expect you to use it but you may as well look the part.'

I watched her bend to lift the shafts of the gig.

'Get the other end.' She said.

I scrambled round the equipment rack and picked up the end of the gig with the seat, helping her lift it over the rack and out through the door then watched her bend again and pick up the shafts before pulling it out into the yard. She looked beautiful in the sunlight, her red hair shining and seeing her naked save for a pair of shiny leather riding boots just made me want to fuck her all over again.

I've always had a thing about women in boots, especially semi-naked women in shiny leather ones; and the fact she was pulling the cart gave the whole thing a frisson of pony play. Then I noticed the swing of her hips and movements of her legs and realised she was walking on her toes.

That's when the penny finally dropped and my eyes I followed her legs down to realise that the boots ended in of a pair of hooves.

She must have read the surprise on my face.

'Come on.' She chided. 'You can ogle me all you like when you've got me in harness.'

We began with what I had thought was a small saddle; it actually turned out to be a leather corset that she got me to buckle around her waist; there was a thick strap sewn to the front that went up between her breasts which ended in another broad strap; this was a collar and she lifted her hair so I could buckle it around her neck.

Like I said, I've always had a bit of a thing about bondage and I'd looked at a few pony girl pictures too but I'd never expected to be putting one in harness. If she'd told me to stop there it would have been enough, I'd have fucked her until she told me to stop in just the corset (or 'girdle' as I later discovered it was called) and collar but this was just the beginning. A leather bra came next with two metal rings that circled her little breasts and half cups with Vs cut away for her nipples.

'A girl's breasts can get saggy if she doesn't support them when she exercises.' She laughed pushing them up and clipping the rings to the strap between her breasts as I tightened the bra-strap behind her back.

I couldn't imagine her breasts ever being saggy.

Then came straps that buckled to the bottom of the girdle and went around her thighs which looked a little like suspenders.

'They stop the girdle riding up.'

She had to help me with the bridle and holding it in place with the bit between her teeth she couldn't give me clear directions. There were straps over the top of her head and around the back, straps that went up from each end of the bit to the bridge of her nose and then a single one up across her forehead and over the top of her head; another strap went horizontally across her forehead to keep it straight; the bridle was fitted with blinkers too. When it was firmly in place she unclipped the bit and pulled it out of her mouth.

'You can put that back in later. I like a bit when I run but I prefer the reins on my nipples.' She told me this so matter-of-factly that for a moment I didn't realise the significance of her words.

'You are okay with this, aren't you, Mike ?' She asked. 'You did say you'd help me with a bit of extra coaching.'

'It's not exactly what I was expecting.' I told her. 'But I think I'm ok, yeah !'

I considered saying that I'd looked after a few pony girls in the past to reassure her but it wouldn't have been true and admitting that I knew a lot about pony-girls would probably mark me out as a pervert.

At least I now knew what she'd come on my coaching course for; of all the amateur athletes in the group, she was the only one who'd been vague when I asked her about her 'sport'. It also explained her rather unusual tan lines.

'Good.' She picked up two of the coiled straps and handed me a long triangular folded piece of leather with a number of straps and buckles attached to it.

'Now you need to harness me to the gig.'

She stood between the shafts and lifted them up. There were straps on the sides of her 'girdle' that clipped to the shafts and the two longer ones clipped to the back of it and to rings further back towards the seat. We spent a few moments checking the tension on these before she was satisfied.

'I don't suppose you know what a single sleeve is ?'

'I have a pretty good idea.' I tried to sound casual.

'Ever put one on a girl ?'

I found myself blushing. 'No.'

'It's pretty straight forward.' She put her hands behind her back. 'My elbows do touch but that's for competition and use in the bedroom. Only pony girls in fiction can manage it all the time.'

I picked up the leather restraint and shook out the straps then slid it up over her arms.

'Get my hands into the mitt and then buckle the wrist strap, the rest is fairly straight forward.'

I did what she said, barely able to believe what she was asking me to do. In my bondage fantasies, all girls were restrained like this. I've watched a few videos on the internet of girls being strapped or laced into single sleeves so I had a pretty good idea what to do. After I'd secured her wrists I pulled the leather up her arms and buckled the straps quite loosely, then I put the chest straps over her shoulders and used these to pull the sheath up, finally I tightened the sheath, though not enough to make her elbows touch; then I managed to get two more notches from each of the shoulder straps.

'Good job.' Bryony wiggled her shoulders and shook her arms. 'You sure you've never done this to anyone ?'

I refrained from trying to make a smart comment, there was only one way I could ever have seen this done.

'Now, clip the shoulder traces to my shoulder straps.'

I complied, adjusting the tension until Bryony was happy.

'It's just the reins, now, and you're ready for your first driving lesson.' She nodded towards the remains of the equipment she had given me.

'Start with the that metal bar.' She instructed.

I picked up a the bar, it was lot thicker than the bit and oval in section and surprisingly light; it was about a foot long with rings on each end which had a long loop of leather attached to them

'I probably should have shown you how to do it before you put the sleeve on but I'm sure you'll manage. Unclip the reins and start by unscrewing one end.'

I did as she told me, snapping off the clips that held the long leather loop and then twisting one of the rings at the end; I found it unscrewed and then eventually it came off. The end sections with the rings held three collars around the bar, one about ten inches long and two a little over an inch; she told me to slide two of them off the bar.

'The bar goes through my nipple rings one at a time and the long collar sits between them.' She grinned. 'I'm sure you won't mind slipping it into place.'

I certainly didn't. My cock was already trying to burst out of my trousers at what this pert little redhead was making me to do her and the prospect of playing with her breasts ringed with steel and displayed so perkily in her little half cup leather bra was almost enough to make a man ejaculate prematurely.

Sometimes a man has to do what a man has to do and I carefully pushed the end of the rod through her right nipple ring, noticing now that the inner part of the ring had a slight prominence that made it oval and shaped exactly to fit the central bar, keeping it just clear of her nipple; then I put the central collar on, I then passed the bar through the left nipple ring and put the final collar back on before screwing the end ring back in place. With her nipple rings separating the collars they were now snugly held in place as part of a circular metal bar though the rings themselves had a tiny prominence at the front with a little hole in. Even allowing for my adventures so far today, it was probably the most erotic thing I had ever done in my life.

I looked up to find her smiling.

'If men had breasts to play with themselves, nothing would ever get done.'

I found myself blushing.

'Nipple reins.' She took on a dominant tone. 'Now.'

How could I refuse ? I clipped the long rein back on to each end of the nipple bar and I had my very own harnessed pony.

'Good.' She continued with her dominant tone. 'Now, take the whip and go and sit in the gig.'

'Don't you...' I gestured to her bit, currently hanging free of her mouth.

She rolled her eyes. 'How can I tell you what to do with that in my mouth.'

'I thought I was the one in charge.' I realised it was a mistake as I said it.

'Have you ever driven a mare before ?'

I looked down, chastened.

'Thought not.' Her tone softened. 'Now get in the gig and don't you dare use that whip unless I tell you. If you try I'll use it on you later and, believe me, I'm very good at it.'

I believed her.

I took up the whip and climbed into the seat, surprised how much it sagged under my weight.

'You're heavier than I expected.' She told me.

'You're a lot kinkier than I expected.' I was quite proud of it as a retort but she simply snorted.

'Shake the reins and tell me to walk on.'

I shook the reins reminding myself that they were clipped to my new girlfriend's nipples, my very kinky new girlfriend's nipples. I couldn't help trying to construct the sentence in French: 'Les mamelons de ma petite amie tres kinke ont...' Perhaps it was the name of the village that inspired me.

Bryony started to walk forwards and I was driving my first pony girl.

It turned out that driving a gig isn't that difficult, not in the basic sense though it can be very distracting watching a pretty girl in bondage over whom you have total control as she performs obediently for you. It is also very arousing and a couple of times I couldn't resist stroking my stiff cock.

So I learnt that a shake of the reins tells a girl to go faster (obviously) and pulling on them slows her down; obviously pulling right takes her right and left takes her left. We did a few circuits of the stable yard and then she told me to take her out onto the track. It was at this point I realised how hard it is being a pony, and this was long before I ever tried it myself. Bryony was clearly working hard and even with the slight upward slope of the track our progress was slow, I could see why she did not want me encouraging her with the whip before I saw this. However, after we covered about two hundred yards the track leveled out and then began to slope down and she made better progress; it was almost as I had imagined it would be; actually, doing it for real was better than I had imagined even if it was tinged with realism.

At the bottom of the track was a river; the ground dropped quite steeply into it and she shouted back for me to use the brake; then I had pleasure of watching my pony splash through the water was almost unsurpassed; it was a hot day and I was glad of the cold water splashing over me so I am sure my sweating pony was too. I let her run up the hill for a further twenty yards and then pulled her back to a walk before the drag of the gig did that anyway; despite this she continued to toil up the slope pulling me behind her with a determination that was surprising. After some twenty minutes we reached the top of the hill and had a spectacular view of the south Devonshire countryside with farmland stretching into moor laid out before us and the sparkling silvery blue of sea in the distance to go with the equally spectacular view I'd had of Bryony's bottom and thighs and harnessed body during the climb. I pulled her to a halt and climbed down from the gig. Sweat was pouring off her glowing skin and her chest was heaving. I let her catch her breath while I took in the view then, when she seemed to be panting a little less I stood beside her and took hold of her bridle.

'I so want you now.' The words just came out before I could stop them.

She turned to look at me and I could see an intense look in her eyes. I'd seen it a couple of times when I'd been training her, a focus that was almost obsessive.

I kissed her before she could object and felt her respond, pressing her body against mine, clearly as hungry for me as I was for her. We were at the edge of a grassy field decorated with wild flowers and I lead her off the track into it before I unhitched her though I made no further effort to free her from her bondage.

'So you like a girl like this ?' She was still panting and flushed as I lead her by the nipples to a patch of soft grass by a hawthorn hedge.

'I'm learning to like it.' I pulled her down onto her knees and began to kiss her. Do I get to train you like this all the time ?'

'A mare who's lead by her nipples is always obedient.' Her words were smothered as she kissed me.

I cupped her breasts in their leather pouches.

'Do you want me to take this...thing off.'

'It's a Morissey nipple bridle and, no, I don't think I can wait while you faff around with it. You'll have to play with my nipples later.'

I pulled the nipple bridle gently making her gasp and then kissed the top of her breasts.

'Fuck me.' She pushed herself against me. 'Fuck your hot little mare.'

I pushed her back and she dropped comfortably over with her calves folded under her thighs and her heels under her bottom to lie on her bound arms, spreading her legs as she did so.

I opened my trousers and leant over her stroking her pussy with my stiff cock.

'You know I might beg this time.' She gently bit her lower lip in that way hot girls do that shows their thinking of sex and this was a hot redhead, a red hot redhead in a pony harness; who'd have thought a bridle could make a girl look so beautiful and so utterly desirable.

There was only one thing wrong.

'Perhaps I can stop you making an exhibition of yourself.' I flipped the bit over and into her mouth. 'Open wide.'

She took it with delight and I secured it. It was only about five millimeters thick, steel coated with black rubber to protect her teeth.

'Sho mashterful.' Her words were distorted by the bit but I knew what she was saying and hearing her talk through the bit just made me shudder with delight.

Despite her shrieks and moans I made myself continue to tease her with the tip of my cock knowing that if I entered her I would cum immediately.

Finally when I thought I could deny myself no more, I plunged inside her feeling her cum, her hips bucking against mine, milking me for every thrust.

My denial had been worth it and I climaxed intensely looking down at this beautiful sexual animal writhing in her bondage underneath me; it was one of the most satisfying and prolonged orgasms of my life.

I left the bit in for the journey back and she seemed entirely happy with this, happy for me to take complete charge though I refrained from using the whip. Going down, the track down felt surprisingly steep and I had to use the brake on two occasions. It seemed amazing that she'd got up it, even at the slow pace. She clearly took great delight in splashing back through the water again and, as I let her toil up the hill back towards her farm, I once again saw the determination in her body.

There was a part of me that wanted to help her, to be gallant, to dismount and ease her burden but I knew this wasn't what she wanted, especially if I was here to train her; it wasn't really what I wanted either. At the top of the hill with the track more level and then beginning to slope down she began to pick up her pace again, jogging, trotting, I suppose and I flicked the reins.

'Trot for me ! Properly, knees up.'

I had no idea if real pony girls liked to do this but she did it immediately, lifting her tired legs obediently. It wasn't as perfect as I might have imagined but this was a real girl harnessed in front of me, a real girl who clearly enjoyed being treated like this. I let her run on twenty or so yards but it was clear she was tiring.

'I'll use the whip.'

She didn't say anything but clearly increased her efforts. She was magnificent even if her steps were ragged, and as I watched her legs rise and fall, enjoying the curve of her buttocks I realised I had found paradise.

'Walk on.' I pulled gently on the reins, slowing her, watching as she fought to catch her breath. I gave her another ten yards and then shook the reins.

'Trot again.'

She obeyed immediately though it was clear her legs were very tired.

'Canter.' I flicked the reins again.

I had no idea what this meant but she changed her pace. Cantering was clearly easier and she loped off, make the gig surge suddenly under me, which was exhilarating and, despite her fatigue, I was sure Bryony felt the same.

We were sixty yards from the gate.

'Let me see you gallop.' I shook the reins and then, very gently, touched her shoulder with the tip of the whip.

She took the hint and exploded forward like the skilled track athlete I knew her to be, making me jerk back in my seat as she sprinted towards the stableyard.

I let her run.

'Come on, faster.' I shook the reins and tapped the whip repeatedly on her shoulder watching her muscles strain and she ran head up, stretching out her legs like a true sprinter until we seemed to fly into the yard with the gig bouncing wildly as the wheels hit the concrete.

I pulled sharply on her reins and brake to stop her.

She skidded for a moment and I feared that she might fall but I pulled harder on the brake to ease our momentum and she managed to stay on her feet. Full of excitement, I leapt out of the seat and ran to her.

She was bent over, gasping for breath around the bit and, after fumbling with the catch I managed to release it to allow her to catch her breath.

'You...' She paused to take another breath, forcing air into her lungs. '...bastard !'

I was taken aback, I thought she'd enjoyed it.

Then she lifted her head and I could see she was smiling.

'That...was...amazing !' She was forcing air in and out of her lungs between gasps. 'I knew you were the one.' She seemed to stumble forward awkwardly and I caught her but then realised she was trying to kiss me.

I bent and kissed her forhead, enjoying the pressure and heat of her naked, captive body despite the slickness of her skin and the warmth of the day. She responded, lifting her face and kissed me briefly but she quickly pulled away.

'No...' She gasped. 'Can't do both ! Breathe...kiss...only...one. In fact...probably can't...fuck...either.' She grinned. 'Not for the...next few minutes...anyway.'

I let go of her and began to unclip the straps harnessing her to the gig.

'Come on.' Having freed her, I took hold of the nipple bridle and lead her out from between the shafts. I could see there was some purple bruising around her nipples and felt slightly guilty.

'I'm guessing I'm supposed to give you a good rub down now. Put down some fresh straw to roll around in.' I still liked the idea of a tumble in the hay.

She shook her head, standing her ground despite the pull on her nipples. 'Way too spiky. You really do need to learn the difference between hay and straw city boy.'

'What do I do with my prize pony then ?' I asked.

'Not sure about the prize bit, but this pony needs a good shower.'

'Oh.' I smiled suggestively. 'I was rather hoping to keep you like this for a little bit longer.'

'Uh hu.' She shook her head. 'In your dreams stable boy. Besides, one of us has to cook dinner.'

'Perhaps I could do that.'

'Not a chance.' She grinned. 'Anyway, don't be too disappointed. If all this is your thing I have a selection of toys in the house including a very nice red single sleeve and if your a good boy I'll let you lace it bedroom tight.'

It was my turn to smile. 'Elbows touching ?'

She nodded. 'Elbows touching.'

She did indeed have a very nice shiny red single sleeve in her bedroom and a matching harness with gold rings for her breasts. She also had a ball gag and a number of other toys for us to play with. So, after dinner she slipped off the long T-shirt she had put on after her shower and let me bind her arms behind her back, forcing her elbows together and then strap her into the harness. Then she sat on my lap on the sofa and we shared a glass of wine.

'Shouldn't you be down there on your knees ?' I was feeling pretty confident at that stage.

'I'm a mare, not a slave.' She said rather pointedly. 'Mare's need to be pampered.' She smiled. 'Now, give me another sip of wine and try not to spill any on my nipples this time.'

'That was an accident.' I protested.

'Yeah, I bet.'

'It was the first time.' That was true, though I had thoroughly enjoyed licking it off her chest twice now.

'Wine !'

'Yes, Mistress.' I held the wine glass to her lips and tipped it up letting her take a long swallow.

'Are you trying to get me drunk ?'

'So that I can tie you up and have my wicked way with you ?' I took a sip myself and put the glass back on the table. 'Because, if that's what you're worried about, I've already done the difficult part.'

'Are you saying I'm easy ?' She asked flirtily.

'You know, if you keep being cheeky I might have to gag you.'

'If you gagged me I couldn't do this.' She leaned up and kissed me. 'A girl can do other things with her mouth too.'

'Other things ?' I tried to sound as naive as possible.

'Other things.' She slipped from my lap onto her knees.

'I thought you were a pampered pony.'

'Mare !' She corrected. 'The clues in the name. Mars-de-Launce and I'm expecting you to train me as well as pamper me.'

'A contract ?'

'Something like that.' She smiled. 'This is your payment for training me today.'

'Oh yes ?'

She leaned forward and started to undo my belt with her teeth.

'I might need a little help here.' She said as she tugged at my belt.

I undid the top of my trousers and slipped my cock out.

'Does that thing ever go to sleep ?' She looked up at me with a hungry expression.

'Perhaps if you kissed it good night.' I smiled down at her suggestively.

'Let's give it a try shall we.' She leaned forward and kissed my tip then licked it. I was already drooling.

'Try not to mess up my sofa.'

It was old and battered and the cloth cover was frayed.

'I'd say that was your responsibility.' I grinned. 'Try not to spill any.'

'I'll see what I can do.' She slipped my cock into her mouth, and ran her lips down my shaft sending tremor of pleasure through my body. Then she gently slid back and forwards, her lips barely brushing the skin of my shaft. I wanted her to grip harder but knew that she was teasing me and that if I let her do things slowly the pleasure would last much longer.

It's my job to think about the way people do things and to make sure they do them properly.

After a few minutes I could feel little tremors in my cock and she closed her mouth over it, gently squeezing. I already wanted to cum and had to force myself not to grab her and pull her onto me; as it was I simply slipped my fingers into one of the straps of her single sleeve and let her continue.

Clearly understanding that I was on the edge she released me and started to kiss and lick at my shaft working down to my balls.

'Just a minute.' My grip on her harness tightened. 'I'm going to stand up.'

'I thought you already were.'

I stood and she knelt up, running her tongue over my balls; the feeling was exquisite and as she continued to kiss and nibble my sack I began to think this was the best sex I'd ever had, or at least since the bout in the field. I was beginning to enjoy having a naked redhead in bondage as my own personal sex toy.

'Good girl.' I stroked her hair.

I felt her lick my shaft.

'Your turn next.'

'I'm looking forward to it.' I actually was. The thought of running my tongue over this beautiful creature's most sensitive parts in the hope of bringing her somewhere near as much pleasure as she was giving me was almost intoxicating.

She took me in her mouth again, pressing a little harder this time, taking me deep inside and I couldn't help slipping my fingers into her lovely thick red hair, though I managed not to grip too tightly. She continued to work me, creating wave after wave of pleasure inside me.

I tried to restrain myself but finally I could hold on no longer and came, gasping, ejaculating into her mouth.

'May I swallow, Sir ?' I looked down to see her grinning up at me with cum on her chin. Then, very deliberately, she swallowed, pulling a face. 'I know you dominant types like to be asked.'

I squatted down and kissed her on the forehead.

'Thank, you.' I held her against me.

'Bet you're glad you didn't gag me.'

'Very glad.' I smiled. 'But I could gag you now.'

'Not a chance. If you're going to play with my pussy I want to be able to tell you when you're doing it right.'

'I thought I was here to train you.' I told her. Anyway, I think I'll know.'

'You men are all the bloody same.' She rolled her eyes.

I pushed her over and spread her legs then bent to lap at her pussy.

'Let's find out shall we.'

'This is why you are really here.' She placed her laptop in front of me.

We were seated at her kitchen table drinking coffee.

It was mid morning and bright outside, probably heading for a hot day like the previous one though it was still cool in her kitchen. We had just got up after another bout of sex. After providing her with what she appeared to deem acceptable cunnilingus on the sitting room floor the previous evening, she'd let me take her to bed. I assumed my performance had been at least acceptable, there had after all been a lot of screaming, but she made no comment afterwards and it seemed rather insecure to ask.

I'd hoped she would let me keep her in bondage for the night but she had said her shoulders were stiff. I realised at that stage she had been in the sleeve with her elbos touching for nearly three hours and was happy to release her though she did keep the harness on. I'd thus had the pleasure of snuggling against a warm sensuous beauty dressed in a red bondage harness for the night and of fucking her in it in the morning.

She was still wearing it now.

'So I'm not just here to indulge you in your kinky fantasies ?' I asked feeling a slight twinge of insecurity in spite of all that had happened.

'Well, there's that as well.' She pressed her harness clad body against mine. 'You're one of the rising stars on the training circuit.'

It was true. I'd been running training weekends for amateur athletes and Bryony had been one of my latest class of six who'd bought a place on the course I ran at a country house hotel near Bristol. It was a business I'd started as a sideline; my real passion was coaching proper athletes and I was beginning to make a name for myself; national coaches were beginning to ring me up when they had a specific problem: a heptathlete who struggled with high jump, a middle distance runner who couldn't quite perform as reserve for the 4x400 relay; I solved problems, created bespoke solutions; I loved the work but it didn't pay well, hence the coaching weekends.

'I've looked at your profile.' She clicked and my homepage came up. 'You're very successful. Georgina got silver in the Europeans.'

'It wasn't gold though.' Georgina was the heptathlete.

'And that's why I chose you.'

'Because she only got silver ?' It still rankled with me.

'No, because you care enough that she didn't get gold and you work miracles. Her high jump was almost bad enough to get her dropped until you started with her. And then there was Chris...'

'Yeah, Chris did well.' I'd coached him back from an injury that had nearly ended his sprint career. He'd offered me all the money he had, almost a hundred quid for nearly six month's work. I hadn't taken it.

When he was back up to speed the team took him back. He'd just won gold in Barcelona.

'That's why I want you to train me.' She said.

She was pretty good; county level, I mean, not national and certainly not international.

'You want to be a sprinter ?' I looked at her perplexed. I'd do it for a drink in the bar, she didn't have to offer my kinky sex; not that I minded.

'No !' She rolled her eyes. 'I want you to train me as a...'pony girl' !'

'I'd say you are pretty good already.'

She laughed deprecatingly. 'Yeah. I can pull you a mile up to the field and back and not that fast.'

'It seemed pretty fast to me.'

'Look.' She clicked a link and typed in a password. 'This is our village website.'

Mars-de-Launce annual Mares' Race came up splashed over a photo of the village we'd driven through on the way in; a picture of the steep slope down to the ford at the bottom of what she'd called the 'High Street' with its six or seven medieval houses and there, splashing through the ford was a pony girl in full harness; she had an athletic build and her blonde hair was flying as she pulled a gig just like the one I'd been sitting in the day before.

'That's Fawn, the reigning champion.' Bryony told me and clicked a link to reveal a field where half a dozen pony girls were pulling gigs, encouraged by their drivers wearing equestrian style clothing in some sort of head to head race. 'She's won the last five years.'

She clicked again. 'August 17th, the link read. Enter here...'

'We have just under four months.' She said turning to look at me. 'Are you in ?'


Chapter 2

We had been training a week which is to say that after anther foray into the real world of pony driving, sorry, 'mare' driving, along the track outside her farm and a bit more sex, I'd gone back to Gloucester to clear as much of my diary as I could and to draw up a training plan.

Three days later, I'd been back in Mars-de-Launce with considerably more than an overnight bag, a dietary plan, an exercise routine and a rapidly expanding knowledge of pony-girl kit. I'm a professional and it's important to explore all avenues !

Bryony had been a pretty good athlete and had run at county level but when she want off to university but she'd dropped out of the athletics in favour of other pursuits including a rapidly expanding appetite for kinky sex.

This job might not be likely to pay much but I was hoping for an awful lot in the way of fringe benefits.

'Perhaps if mainstream athletics had involved more bondage I'd be at Olympic standard by now.' She told me with a laugh.

She'd got a two-one in accountancy but after graduation had found she could earn a decent living from modeling; combining the two made her a pretty decent income though she spent much of it on the mortgage for the farm.

'Modeling ?'

'I get a decent amount of lingerie work and I do some kinky stuff too.' She told me with a smile. 'You wouldn't believe the positions I've got myself into.'

'I'm happy to let you show me.' I looked up at her from the training programme I was studying; she was making dinner, dressed in her 'bedroom' harness.

Actually, I'd seen some of her 'kinky stuff'; once I'd discovered the name she modeled under. She'd been photographed by Ken Marcus and Jim Weathers and Terry Wakelyn, the guy from London who worked with the gorgeous Mistress Gabby.

I guess it's fair to say I have a bit of a thing about redheads.

'Perhaps later.' She said stirring large cauldron of pasta.

I knew by now this meant 'definitely later'.

With Bryony, the sex was free-flowing and constantly interesting.

'So did you grow up in Mars-de-Launce ?' I asked.

'Oh, yes.' She told me with a smile. 'My parents lived in the village. I'd always liked this place so when I came back I bought it.'

'And your parents ?' I tried not to sound too cautious. The thought of meeting my girlfriend's parents as I trotted her into the stable yard in full harness smelling of sex and wet with mud where we'd enjoyed a fuck on the riverbank suddenly made me nervous.

'Moved to Bristol.' She said with a shrug.

'And do they...?' I couldn't resist asking.

'Oh yes. Mum won the Queen of the Field seven times and...yes, they know about my modeling too.'

I guessed that growing up in a village that had an annual pony girl (mare) race gave a family a fairly open outlook on life.

'My dad flew out to Fet-Com with me a couple of years ago when I did a set with Jim.'

'Jim ?' I asked.

'Jim Weathers !' She stared at me waving a wooden spoon vaguely in my direction. 'You do know something about bondage, right ?'

'Yes.' I nodded trying not to sound appear too much of a pervert. 'I know who Jim Weather's is.'

I refrained from commenting that I had a metaphorical loyalty card at this Cafe.

'No.' Bryony gave me a rather unexpected hand off as I started to make my usual advances after dinner. 'We're going to the pub tonight.'

I didn't mind the thought of sharing her for one evening. Besides, it would be good to meet other denizens of the village; I envisaged the local pub packed with swingers, women in harnesses trailing on leashes, a lot of leather and PVC...

Having said that, we'd passed through the village on the way to Bryony's farm. It was, I thought, more typical of the cotswolds than Devon; it had a hidden quality it too, the whole village surrounded by trees as if it was deliberately lurking out of sight of the modern world; perhaps that was reasonable given what went on every August.

So Bryony pulled a cotton dress on over her harness and strapped on a pair of heels, I ensured that my pretty constant erection was well adjusted and we strolled the mile and a half up to Mars-de-Launce.

The pub was situated on the edge of the village green, one of a dozen or so building that surrounded the gloomy patch of grass that was more bare earth than beautifully mown cricket pitch. The pub was actually called 'The Mare in Hand' but, despite the local implications the sign showed one of the four legged varieties and, inside, it was like any other village pub with a penchant for things equestrian.

For a moment I wondered if I was the victim of some elaborate set-up.

Couples, it was mostly couples though not all of them were pairs of the opposite sex, sat at tables drinking and there was the usual parliament of old geezers propping up the bar; mostly farming types in tweeds and gumboots despite the early summer heat.

'Come on.' Bryony said as I made a move to the bar. 'I want you to meet someone.'

She was clearly looking around and after a moment she took my hand and drew me towards a couple sitting at a table in the back room. The guy was big, broad chest with a weathered face; the girl looked tiny in comparison though she was bigger than Bryony; she had a round face and curly blonde hair.

'Cassie.' Bryony said, introducing us. 'This is Mr James.'

I looked at Bryony with surprise at the formality.

'It's a tradition when we're entering racing season, the mares call the knights 'Mr' or 'Sir'.'

I smiled. I rather liked the idea,

'Pleased to meet you, Sir.' Cassie said with a flash of her blue eyes.

'Tom.' Her partner said, extending a hand that looked twice the size of mine and, when he took it delivered a powerful squeeze.

'Mike.' I said.

I bought some drinks and we sat down together. It soon became clear that Tom and Cassie were preparing for the race too or, if this was a set-up they were in on it. However, Cassie was entering the Tourney Field events, whatever they were.

'It's a series of challenges, short sprints, slaloms, a blindfold race, obstacles, that sort of stuff.' Cassie told me.

'Going to get yourself pierced then ?' Bryony asked with a smile.

'I have thought about it.' Cassie gave her a slightly disapproving stare.

In response Bryony reached down and took her friend's hand, lifting it to her breast.

Cassie's eyes widened. 'You didn't !'

'Morrisey's.' Bryony said with obvious pride.

I watched as Cassies fingers slid inside Bryony's dress to feel her nipples.

'Got them done about a month ago.' Bryony said. 'I wanted them healed up before I needed to use them.'

Tom clearly recognised my confusion. 'The serious competitors use nipple reins. I take it you've seen what Bryony has under there ?' He looked at Cassie as she stood behind Bryony with both hands in my girlfriend's dress. 'They're called 'Morrisey's vertical rings' and they're designed specifically to mount a nipple bridle. They're far more subtle for guiding a mare than a bridle and bit or simple nipple rings.'

'A mare who is lead by her nipples is always obedient.' Cassie said, finally extracting her hands from Bryony's dress.

'There's plenty of time to get yours done.' Bryony took Cassie's hand as the blonde sat down and squeezed it between her own in a way that looked way past simple affection.

'Perhaps.' Cassie smiled, clearly in no hurry to break the physical contact.

Cassie and Bryony, it turned out had been at school together; Tom was in the year below them. He was the village blacksmith and had a nice side line in making the gigs or 'chariots' as they were called as well as other pieces of tack and harness with the help of Cassie's leather working skills.

'This whole race thing is based on a village legend.' Cassie told me as Tom went to the bar. 'One of King Arthur's knights returning from some quest or other came to the village seeking help because his horse had gone lame and couldn't pull his war chariot.'

She glanced at Bryony who shrugged. 'Nobody seems to know why he was traveling by war chariot and not riding; one story says he was a knight from the levant and that was what he preferred, some people say he'd been wounded in the leg and couldn't ride a horse properly. Either way, he was traveling in a chariot and despite the skills of the village blacksmith, his horse died the following day.'

'Anyway.' Cassie continued. 'The knight was stuck in the village with no transport. The villagers were too poor to have a horse in those days and pulled their carts by hand. So the story goes that the daughter of the chieftain with whom the knight was staying offered to pull the knight's chariot herself.'

'Needless to say, according to legend, the knight was very handsome and, when word got out, there was a whole line of village maidens begging to pull the knight's chariot.'

'So the chieftain organised a competition to find which girl should have the honour.'

'One story says the knight was so handsome, even a dryad came out of the woods to take part.' Bryony added with a smirk. 'Apparently, she didn't win but she did stay in the village hoping that another knight would one day come along. None did and eventually she gave up and married the village cart-maker.'

'Apparently, it's her magic that keeps the village hidden.' Cassie added. 'We have a feast in autumn to celebrate every year.'

I didn't ask what went on there.

'And the rest is history...or legend.' Cassie concluded.

'There have been a few tweaks on the way.' Bryony added. 'Rules, the introduction of different races...'

'Dressage !' Cassie rolled her eyes.

They both looked towards the bar where a woman with blonde hair and very large breasts had just come in accompanied by a man who looked to be in his late forties. The couple looked very well heeled; she mincing on heels that must have been five inches wearing a very flimsy and expensive looking white summer dress that barely looked up the task of constraining her enormous breasts and he in a tailored tweed suit and pristine looking stable boots.

From the size of the woman's breasts, it seemed pretty likely that they had been created; the same surgeon had probably given a few shots of botox too and put some collagen around her lips. That said, she was a very attractive woman, even though she was quite probably the far side of forty; she was very well groomed from her topknot of natural curly blonde hair to her artfully painted and very shiny toenails. The white dress set off her deep tan beautifully and its flimsiness revealed her lack of underwear treating everyone to a glimpse of dark brown and surprisingly large nipples moving freely beneath, both pierced (horizontally) with barbels. The rings on her hands as she reached for the glass of Bollinger her partner had ordered looked as if they were worth a small fortune.

'Barbie.' Cassie said in a rather disgusted tone. She and Tom were at least a pint ahead of us.

'Stop it, Cass !' Tom admonished in a hushed tone.

'I'm just saying' Cassie pouted. 'It is her 'mare' name.'

I saw Bryony's blue eyes flick towards me and a slightly embarrassed gesture and I was sure her cheeks coloured too.

'To be fair, Cass.' Bryony said. 'She did win last year.'

'Not bad for her age, I suppose.' Cassie admitted and then added under her breath. 'It's still only dressage.'

Tom lifted his drink to change the subject. 'To a successful summer.'

We all chinked glasses and there followed a long and surprisingly detailed discussion about wheel bearings, tyre material, friction and power to weight ratios. As Bryony's coach, I should probably have been paying more attention but the crowd at the bar seemed to be having a much more interesting time even if I was sitting next to a gorgeous redhead with a bondage harness under her dress.

My gaze was distracted by the blonde at the bar turning to stand with her back to me. Her silk dress was cut away at the back and slit nearly all the way up her very long legs. All down her back from below her shoulder blades to the top of her bottom where they disappeared beneath the dress, her skin was marked with a series of lines, some parallel, some crossing; many were fresh, red and angry, others purple or even brown; there was only one way she could have acquired them. There were similar marks on the back of her thighs too, where they were visible through the long slash in her dress.

If she was in training for the event, she was under a pretty strict regimen. Though not strict enough to keep her away from the pub; which reminded me, at some point, I was going to have to tell Bryony that is was going to be orange juices only soon.

I turned back to the conversation which had moved on to the relative benefits of saddle soap over boiling water to soften new leather harnesses.

We said goodnight to Tom and Cassie after a third pint over which I had learnt more than I would have thought possible about nipple rings, and we parted promising to see them bright and early the next morning. Apparently Tom and Cassie were going to help me develop my driving style.

I was fairly sure it wouldn't take long and we'd be back at Bryony's for lunch and an afternoon in bed before I had to catch the train home to attend a few training commitments I couldn't abandon.

I noticed that, as they parted, Cassie said 'Goodnight, Sticks' to Bryony.

Bryony was quite giggly as we walked home; she'd had three pints too and was quite a bit smaller than me.

She was giggly as we entered the bedroom too, and flirtatious judging by the way she began to undo the buttons at the front of her dress.

'So is your pony name 'Sticks' ?' I had to admit, I was intrigued.

Bryony blushed.

'Are you suddenly asking what my name is ?' She giggled. 'We have been shagging for nearly two weeks now.'

'You called the blonde 'Barbie' and Cassie said it was her 'mare' name. 'I'm just curious about yours. I assumed you'd be 'Redd Hott'.'

'Redd Hott' is my modeling name.' Bryony was still blushing.

I don't know exactly what it takes to make a fetish model blush but I guessed it had to be something pretty embarrassing. 'My pony name is a secret.' She turned away and pulled her dress off over her head to reveal the harness beneath.

'Perhaps I'll just have to tease it out.' I grabbed her while her hands were over her head and her arms were trapped.

She struggled laughing as I pulled her over my lap and slapped her on the bottom.

'Stop it.' She said in a way that clearly meant exactly the opposite.

I landed several blows before she managed to get her hands out of the dress and then she threw it at me.

'I'm not going to tell you.' She insisted.

'Oh yes you are !'

We were saved from a pantomime stand off by her suggestion that, if I really wanted to find out, I should probably strap her into the single sleeve at bedroom tightness and interrogate her more throughly in bed.

I told her that was an excellent plan and we agreed a truce while I went to get the single sleeve from the wardrobe and she got ready for bed. When I opened the wardrobe door, the shiny red leather sleeve was hanging up among several dresses, a few blouses and skirts and some trousers. There was also a black leather catsuit in there and a delightfully kinky rubber outfit that seemed to be composed of a vest and some stockings; there was a leather collar on the hanger too from which draped a long chain connected to four leather cuffs. I wondered if this might be a better form of restraint, especially if she was going to spend the night in bondage.

I guess I must have been distracted because, when I turned round she was coming back into the room with a riding crop in her teeth and a pair of nipple clamps hanging over her finger.

'You can use the collar and cuffs if you like.' She said taking the crop out from between her teeth. 'It's a while since I've spent the night in it.'

'And the crop ?'

'Just don't mark me. I've arranged a lingerie shoot while you're off doing stuff on Monday and I don't want whipmarks on my bottom.'

'Like Barbie ?' I wanted to find out why she had been whipped so intensely.

'Cass should show her some respect.' Bryony said waving the whip at me in a way that was vaguely threatening. 'Barb's doing bloody well for her age. Of course, it would help if Cass got on with that twat she'd married to.'

'Is it the 'twat' who beats her ?' I asked.

She looked at me with surprise then shrugged rather casually. 'He may do but she is a dressage mare.'

'The marks on her back looked rather extreme to me.'

'Says the man who's about to chain me up for the night and torture my nipples.' She said rather forcefully.

'Fair point.' I felt I was missing something but there were more pressing matters at hand.

'Dressage can be a pretty extreme sport.' She said as if that explained everything.

I'd seen dressage at the Olympics, I didn't think if was a word that belonged in the same sentence as extreme.

'Have you ever done dressage ?' I was intrigued.

'A couple of times.'

'Unlike Cassie, you approve of dressage then ?' I asked.

'I'm okay with it. I've done a few pony shoots, I even did a short film once; racing is one thing, looking good in harness is quite another. It suits the older mare.' She toyed with the whip. 'But I'm in the minority. Dressage is a new thing. The committee only approved it about hundred years ago. Village opinion is still very much divided on it.'

I wasn't entirely sure I agreed that it was difficult to look good in harness but then she was the experienced pony.

'Anyway, back to the matter in hand.' She said looking at me. 'Shall I keep the harness on ?'

'No, you'll be spending the night in these cuffs, I don't want you waking my up saying the harness is too tight.'

'Yes, Sir.' She reached up, lifting her chin and began to unbuckle the collar.

'Don't take keep me waiting.' I told her.

'Of, course not, Sir.'

With the collar off she loosened the shoulder straps and slid them off, pulling the gold rings out from around her breasts; her skin was marked with indentations of the straps and buckles. Then she unbuckled the thigh cuffs.

It was superbly erotic striptease.

'So how do you want me ?' She asked in what must have been her most professional fetish model voice.

I pointed to the floor. 'On your knees at my feet.'

'Oooh ! Sooo masterful.' She tripped forward with the lovely display of girlish glee and dropped to her knees at my feet, kneeling up with her shoulders back and her little breasts thrust out.

I fitted the thick bondage collar around her neck and then adjusted the length of the chain so I could lock her wrists in the small of her back leaving full access to her bottom. I set the ankle cuffs close too so she was forced to stay on her knees, leaving a length of chain that could be used to lock her in place or perhaps I'd end up hanging her by her ankles if things got really nasty.

'Now.' I said, picking up the crop. 'I think you were about to tell me your pony name.'

'You'll never get me to talk.' She said, suppressing a smile.

'Really ?' I teased her nipple with the whip. 'I'm guessing these are pretty sore after a day training with that nipple bar thing.'

'Bridle !' She corrected.

I brought the crop down on her left breast making the dark metal ring bounce and watched a smile flickered across her face. I thought she might tell me not to mark the goods but she kept her mouth shut.

I knew her nipples were sensitive, she'd told me several times since I'd been back, usually as I closed my teeth around them in bed.

I tapped the whip up and down on her left nipple ring.

'If you torture my nipples like that, but you'll never break me.'

I struck her other nipple ring.

'You have a lot to learn about using a whip !' She said rather pointedly.

'Perhaps it's time for my first lesson.'

'Not with me like this it isn't.' She said rather breaking the mood. 'But perhaps if you really want to get me to talk, you should try the nipple clamps.'

'A mare who's lead by her nipples is always obedient ?'

'Mostly.' She shrugged.

I picked up the nipple clamps and, pushing aside the rings proceeded to clip them in place. They were a 'clover' type design, the kind that tighten when you pull them and don't come off.

'I was hoping for a little more foreplay.' She said with a smirk.

'You're being interrogated...tortured.'

'Oh, yes. Sorry, Sir.'

'Time to see how obedient you can be.' I hooked my finger in the chain between the clamps. 'Come on.'

I pulled gently at first and then a little harder. She had no option but to follow and waddling while tightly chained on her knees wasn't easy. I lead her across the bedroom and then back again making her struggle a little faster on the way back.

'Enjoying yourself.' I asked.

'I'm fine.' She was breathing a little hard and her cheeks were flushed; despite her training, this was hard work.

'Let's make it a little harder shall we ?' I gently nudged her with my knee; she resisted at first but eventually tumbled onto her side.

'Come along.' I pulled on the nipple clamps forcing her to squirm on her side to follow me.

'You can be a real bastard.' She told me when we'd reached the bedroom door though I got the impression she was actually enjoying the challenge.

'Just you wait until the training really starts.' I told her. 'I think I've found a way to motivate you.'

I lifted the clamps forcing her to roll and arch her back to ease the strain on her nipples then I pulled harder so she was forced to do one of the most erotic abdominal crunches I've ever seen, then I pushed her back and made her turn onto her other side before I took her back across the bedroom.

It was true: a mare who's lead by her nipples is always obedient. This one certainly was.

'I just want to know your pony name.' I made her roll over again and do another crunch for me.

We did three more trips across the bedroom and a series of crunches.

'Alright.' She gasped after about fifteen minutes. 'But just because I'm so turned on right now I want you to stop playing with my nipples and give me the fucking I'm gagging for.'

'That sounds fair.' I pulled on her nipple clamps and then used her collar to lift her up to her knees.

'Sticky fingers.' She gasped her face colouring even more. 'That's my pony name: 'Sticky Fingers'.'


Chapter 3

I was wrong about the morning, so wrong.

I suppose I should have realised from the depth previous nights's conversation in the pub, I probably should have listened to it more closely too.

Very unprofessional.

The forge was one of the buildings adjacent to the village green and enclosed by a crumbling stone wall which also surrounded Tom's yard and acted as a showroom for his works. The sign by the entry gate read 'William S Morrisey and Sons' and Bryony nodded in answer to my unspoken question.

'Tom's great-great-something-grandfather bestowed his patented nipple bridle on us all.'

Cassie was already in harness as I stepped through the gate and Tom was pulling a gig across to hitch her too. The gig or rather 'chariot' as I remembered to call it recalling the story of the knight, was one of several in the yard. They were a pretty standard basic design and looked much the same as Bryony's, usually with two very non-dark ages bicycle type wheels, a chassis, some with seats and two shafts between which the 'mare' was harnessed. Some were more basic than others with wheels from a bike that might have belonged to a post-war village priest all the way up to modern designs with low profie tyres and minimalist spokes. I've spent enough evening in the pub with the lycra brigade to know that bike wheels are a whole (and rather tedious) topic in themselves. Presumably somewhere in the village's secret password-protected website there was a page where potential racers could drool over the latest model or upgrade.

I couldn't help enjoying the sight of Cassie in full harness. She was a little stockier than Bryony but she clearly kept herself in shape and the harness did the rest; it was fairly similar to Bryony's except that the girdle was broader and attached to the bra so that Cassie's considerable breasts were given the support they clearly needed though her dark nipples poked though little holes in the tips; her harness also had a crotch strap rather than thigh straps to keep it in place. Rather than a single sleeve, Cassie's arms were restrained in dual sleeves, her hands pulled up into the small of her back and clipped the back of the girdle.

'Eyes front, Mr James.' Bryony puled my chin across and kissed me on the lips. 'If you're head's going to be turned by every semi-naked girl you see in a leather harness then you're really not going to accomplish very much in this village.'

I tried to remain focussed as Cassie trotted over to us; literally, bringing her knees up to waist level though it really wasn't her thighs that drew my attention. It wasn't her boots either though I did spot that they were a little different to Bryony's with flatter soles.

'Good morning, Mr James.' Cassie was slightly flushed and breathless and well aware she had my full attention. I rather hoped Bryony didn't look down. My pert little red-headed pony had spent the night in bondage and I'd made her work for her release by giving me a blow job; despite this, the sight of Cassie in full rig was enough to get me going even with Bryony standing next to me wearing, I knew, her just harness under her dress.

For a lingerie model, I'd not actually seen her wear any.

'Mornin' Sticks.' Cassie said playfully, glancing at me to assess my response.

'He knows !' Bryony said in a rather tired sounding voice and she leant in to give her friend a peck on the cheek.

'But did she tell you why ?' Cassie was stirring and we all knew it.

'She didn't elaborate.' I told her, hoping that the blonde might spill the beans.

Bryony had refused to tell me despite the threat of more nipple torture and, after chaining her up and teasing her nipples I was a ready for a fuck as she was.

I wished I didn't have to go back to Gloucester so I could interrogate her more later but I would be back on Wednesday and there would to be plenty to distract me in the next couple of days.

To be honest, there was plenty to distract me at that moment.

First I had to watch my girlfriend bridle the curvaceous blonde; the one who seemed to be notably without piercings. Cassie used what Bryony referred to as a 'traditional' rig that allowed her to be guided just like a real horse using a bit which was considerably larger than the one Bryony used. The bridle didn't actually look that different to me though the blinkers were larger and they had flaps on the side to extend them further if needed.

'In the past serious competitors would even have teeth removed to allow the bit to sit better in their mouths.' Bryony told me as she buckled Cassie's, rather tightly.

Cassie shook her head and gave a little cry of protest.

'Of course, the traditional rig has the added effect of keeping a girl's loud mouth in check.' Bryony clearly addressed this latter remark towards Cassie and I assume had something to do with the use of Bryony's pony name.

Cassie grunted or perhaps nickered and tossed her head.

'And as some of us are not committed enough to get the requisite piercings you'll have to imagine that lovely Swallow here is using proper tack.' Bryony finished by slapping Cassie very firmly on the bottom and earning herself a glare from the newly bridled blonde. 'Yes...' Bryony turned to me. 'Swallow comes from exactly where you think it does.'

And with that, Bryony lead her friend over to the chariot.

Having completed 'Introductory Pony Play' I discovered the next level of my education was exposure to lesbian pony play; I was in a kind of heaven, watching as Bryony in her cotton dress and boots lead 'Swallow' in her harness and boots by the bridle; the sound of their boots echoing a little like the 'clip-clop' that might be expected to come from a pony being lead across a blacksmith's yard.

Both ponies had a delightful rear view and my mind photoshopped in swishing tails as both girls for a few moments swayed deliciously in time.

My private lesbian pony show continued as Bryony proceeded to install her friend between the shafts.

Not being the pony for once, gave Bryony an opportunity to explain a little more about the adjustments of the straps and she talked through the tensions of the traces to the various points of the harness and the positioning of the shafts on the girdle; she moved freely in her pony boots, completely at home in them.

The racing boots, I had learned were fitted with a coiled steel spring that by flexing under the pressure of a foot strike rebounded to provide the pony with a significant impulse a little like the blades para-Olympic athletes used. The spring was too stiff to make much difference when walking but at full gallop they provided a a significant boost to performance. The tension in the spring was adjusted according to the mare's weight.

'Of course, this is a field harness.' Bryony said casually as she finished securing Cassie. It was as if the difference was obvious. 'Racing harnesses need a little more tension in the shoulders and racing mares don't have to go back wards.'

I naively wondered how one made a horse or even a human pony go backwards. Bryony was about to explain.

'Proper mares...' She said with an unnecessary degree of emphasis. 'Have themselves appropriately fitted to allow easy attachment of the barding chain. She reached between Cassie's legs and clipped the chain to a ring on the crotch strap of the harness.'

'Im nod gedding myshelf piershed !' Cassie said as clearly as she could around the bit in her mouth. It's size made her words way more difficult to understand than the thin bit Bryony used.

'If you say so.' Bryony unselfconsciously pulled her dress over her head exposing her harnessed body underneath, her nipple rings suddenly flashing as they caught the sun.

'Hold her would you.' She said casually, passing me Cassie's reins before turning away to saunter across the yard, her hips swaying as she walked effortlessly on the balls of her feet in the pony boots.

'Vuckin' schow ovv.' Cassie whispered under her breath. It was a reminder that there was another gorgeous pony girl standing right next to me.

Bryony tossed her dress on the bench in the porch and picked up a long stiff whip that stood beside it propped against the wall. It was very similar to the one I held while I drove Bryony, the one she'd never let me use on her.

Then she walked back towards me giving me the full front view incase I'd forgotten I was dating a red hot fetish model.

If she'd have asked I've have dropped to my knees and ruined any dominant credibility I had by licking her boots clean even though she had walked up the lane in them.

Cassie tutted, tossing her head and turning to look away but I couldn't have taken my eyes off Bryony to save my life.

Walking past me, Bryony put one foot on the floor of the chariot and then climbed aboard. It certainly didn't sag as much as hers did when I climbed aboard. Taking the reins, she expertly flicked the whip to catch Cassie on the buttocks and set the lovely harnessed blonde into motion. I watched them roll past, Bryony standing elegant and upright like some very kinky Boudicca as the chariot gathered speed accompanied by and the sound of Cassie's boots echoing off the wall of the yard.

'Keep up.' Bryony shouted to me glancing back imperiously.

I walked the circuit beside her, a couple of paces behind Cassie as the blonde drew the chariot round the courtyard.

'This is a field chariot. Bryony explained, hence no seat. 'Now, watch closely.'

She gently shook the reins and flicked the whip. The response was instant, Cassie lifting her legs and moving into a trot.

'A good knight doesn't use his voice, it should all be done with the whip and reins.' She turned to smile down at me. 'Of course it helps to have a well trained mare.' She moved her hand slightly guiding Cassie to the left and then again to the right. 'And, for all her squeamishness around getting the proper fittings, Tom has trained her well.'

'Shang u.' Cassie was already breathing hard.

Bryony flicked the whip, a little harder I thought, striking Cassie on the top of the buttocks at the same time as drawing gently on the reins. The pony's shoulders stiffened slightly but continue to trot.

'You have to be accurate when you use the whip.' Bryony continued. 'Under the buttocks or on the top of the thighs moves the pony on; the top of the buttocks or lower back is to reinforce a command or bring a wayward pony into line.'

Cassie didn't comment.

So my introduction to 'mare' racing here in Mars-de-Launce moved to the next stage.

After nearly an hour under the guidance of a very exacting Bryony, Cassie was flagging and receiving more 'reminders'; the top of her buttocks were starting to shine with a gradually coalescing pattern of red weals when Bryony brought her to a final halt. I'd been through all the paces including the rising trot with knees lifted and the lazy trot which was more of a jog; Cassie had also demonstrated the canter although, Bryony told me, this was different to the dressage canter which was more like skipping. There had been a fair amount of stopping and starting too; it seemed that, as well as using the reins it was advisable to use the whip to start any pony into motion just incase she misinterpreted an accidental move of the hand at the start of the race. The tops of Cassie's thighs and the lower half of her buttocks were thus pretty red too.

Tom didn't seem the slightest bit bothered that his wife was being abused by one of her old school friends or that a complete stranger who he'd met in the pub the previous night was watching the whole thing and, when I could tear my eyes off the lesbian pony show going on beside me, I noticed that he was busy at the other end of the yard apparently replacing the wheel on a gig...sorry, chariot.

Tom might not be interested but by the time Bryony stopped my cock straining for release at the sight of my girlfriend playing kinky equestrian games with another woman and I'd have done pretty much anything to satisfy it, including, I think playing pony myself.

It was, however, Bryony's turn between the shafts and mine in the driving seat so to speak. Up until now, I realised my role in Bryony's chariot had been little more than ballast but after an hour of watching my clearly focussed and surprisingly tyrannical girlfriend show me what was expected of a 'mare' and how to achieve I was ready for my first proper lesson.

I was dispatched to collect Bryony's single sleeve and left her releasing Cassie from between the shafts. As I walked back, I noticed Bryony rather diligently thanking her pony with some surprisingly intimate nipple play. Cassie was free of the shafts but her arms were still clipped behind her back to the girdle; though still bridled, she was making no effort to resist Bryony's fingers; perhaps, I figured, they were discussing nipple piercings again. However, if that were the case, I wondered why Cassie still had the bit in her mouth.

'Good girl.' Bryony said as I reached them. I hoped she wasn't talking to me. She was just beginning to remove Cassie's bridle and as she pulled it over the blonde's head Cassie shook her hair free.

'See, I still can.' Cassie said.

'Yes, you can, can't you.' Bryony's voice was not its usual focussed commanding tone; it sounded as if she'd just finished trotting too.

Then Bryony stood with her back to me arms together 'presented for binding' and I strapped her into it at 'training tightness'. Cassie watched giving helpful comments including the fact that it should be 'a whole lot tighter' and earning herself a couple withering glances from Bryony but like a good little mare, my sexy redhead kept her mouth shut.

Cassie's bridle was a little different to Bryony's and any disappointment I felt that we were not using the nipple bridle were quickly set aside as Cassie talked me through the process of adjusting it to fit her friend.

I'm always up for new experiences.

One thing I did notice was the way the wider bit forced Bryony's mouth open further than her own and it wasn't long before she was drooling. I guess she must have done to some degree when we'd trained before but, being behind her as she ran, I'd just never noticed.

'Messy cow !' Cassie opined from behind my shoulder.

Bryony glared but maintained a professional silence.

Cassie then talked me through the process of adjusting the straps to a pony's harness. Cassie probably could have done it a lot faster herself and I did offer to release her so that she could but she said she was happy to talk me through the process and it was a useful exercise, hearing and seeing a different perspective on the tension needed for certain straps, including the difference for a field chariot.

'Of course, little miss perfect here would probably get her clit done if she became a field mare.' Cassie told me.

I gathered it was all to do with this going backwards thing that field and dressage ponies were required to do. I'd become pretty used to leading Bryony by her nipples and the thought that one day I might get to lead her by an even more intimate piercing appealed to me.

'Sticky's always been a racer, haven't you ?' Cassie teased. 'She did the field one year but wasn't very good at it.'

Bryony shot her a glance.

'Didn't like being told what to do.' Cassie continued.

'I'd never have believed it.' I said slightly sarcastically earning myself a glance from Bryony.

'When we turned eighteen, we entered together.' Cassie went on. 'The first year I raced and little Sticky here did the field. We swapped round the next year when she was down from university and it worked out much better. She came third in the race. If she'd have come back to practice more, I might have done better in the field.'

The thought of these two hot girls practicing together reminded me of their obvious intimacy.

'Cashie !' Bryony warned.

'Oh, my darling.' Cassie responded. 'That's in the past now and here you are with your hot coach making a bid for the title.

'Cashie !' Bryony was turning redder by the minute.

Cassie turned to me with a satisfied smile. 'Ready.'

'I guess so.' I climbed up into the chariot and took up the whip.

Without a seat, it felt a rather unstable platform and Cassie told me to hold onto the rail at the front.

'Have you practiced with the whip ?' Cassie asked.

I saw Bryony shake her head.

'No.'

'Then just tap her with the tip for the moment.' Cassie told me. 'Now, walk her on.'

I shook the reins.

'Don't forget the whip.'

I touched Bryony's bottom with the tip of the whip.

'Under the buttocks to get her moving.' Cassie reminded me.

And so I put Bryony through her paces under the watchful eye of her blonde pony friend.

It turns out there are quite a few more subtleties to pony driving that I hadn't even thought about, including balancing in the back of a 'field' chariot; fortunately the lovely blonde walking beside me still harnessed and still with her arms restrained behind her talked me though them.

I'm not embarrassed to admit to having lesbian fantasies which much like any other man usually involve two hot lesbians getting it on and, in an ideal world inviting me to join them. I'd entered this particular utopia with a couple of Russian gymnasts at an international meeting a couple of years ago (yes, they were both over eighteen, I'm not that sort of guy). Doing it with pony girls certainly ticked all my boxes outside the bedroom, especially when Cassie told me to bring Bryony to the rising trot and proceeded to trot alongside, bringing her knees up in unison with the pony between the shafts.

If only Tom made chariots for two girls to pull.

Once I'd got the hang of it, Cassie left me alone for a while wandering across the yard to speak to Tom while I practiced stopping and starting and guiding Bryony with the reins and whip. I thought she was less responsive than when I used the nipple reins but perhaps that was wishful thinking.


Chapter 4

When Cassie came back she was carrying a tray of coffee and Tom was with her. He'd freed her arms from behind her back but she still wore the sleeves and, in her collar and field boots she looked very much like a kinky slave girl. It seemed even pony girls took coffee breaks and I stopped to free Bryony from the traces then took a coffee from Cassie who stood patiently waiting beside me. Cassie and Tom drank coffee too but Bryony had an energy drink. I wasn't really sure if this was part of her training regimen or because she was still restrained in the single sleeve. I did offer to release her but she said it was too much hassle and sat on the back of the chariot while, Cassie, kneeling gracefully at Tom's feet with her arms and hands still in the bondage sleeves occasionally held the water bottle to her friend's lips between picking up her own cup in her mitted hands.

'So how do you rate your chances a Queen of the Field ?' I asked Cassie feeling I should get to know this woman who was so intimate with my new girlfriend a little more.

'Oh, I've got some work to do and it's been three years since I last entered.' She said.

'She's been busy having children.' Bryony told me.

'Child.' Cassie corrected. 'Just the one so far.'

She looked at Tom in the way women do when they're planning a large family and have found the perfect man to care for them.

The situation suddenly made me feel uncomfortable and I looked around slightly nervously expecting a toddler to burst forth from the forge.

'Pippa's gone to Totness for a weekend with her grandmother.' Cassie reassured me. 'I don't want her knowing her mum's a bondage slut quite yet. She's got quite a few weekends at Paignton Zoo ahead of her.'

'No excuse to stop you training for the race instead then.' Bryony put in.

'I think she could do it.' Tom put in, earning a sharp glance from his wife. 'She came third three years ago.'

Cassie swung her arm, still mitted in the sleeve at him, the loose end and the rings catching him across the chest. 'Next time you wear the harness if you're so keen.'

Tom held up his hands defensively. 'You know the rules ! Mare's only.'

'I might suggest to the committee that we move into the twenty first century and have some equality in this village.' Cassie retorted.

'It gets discussed year after year.' Bryony told me. 'It's against tradition.'

'Yeah.' Said Tom winking at Cassie. 'Wouldn't want to upset tradition.'

'No !' Cassie was clearly gearing up for an arguement. 'Like insisting we wear nipple bells and tails.'

'Then there's all the bondage...' Bryony said suppressing a smirk.

'Actually, I quite like the bondage.' Cassie said cozying up to Tom.

I was going to point out that Bryony seemed to quite like he bondage too but Tom started talking.

'We don't get much chance with a little one in the house.' Tom confided. 'This weekend is a bit of R&R on all fronts.'

Cassie laughed blushing beautifully.

'The harnesses was added in the in the early eighteenth century.' Tom explained but even then the mares mostly held the chariot. Then, some philanthropist...'

'Reverend bloody Ambrose.' Cassie interrupted.

'Seventeen ninety two.' Bryony added helpfully.

'Anyway, in 1792, the Reverend insisted the 'mares be suitably restrained'. He said it was to prevent cheating.' Tom explained. 'Meant they couldn't swap places half way round.'

'Like I say, I'm not against the bondage.' Cassie added. 'But he went a bit further...'

'Three years later...' Tom continued. 'He persuaded the committee that to make the contestants look more like real ponies, they should have tails.'

'I still don't understand why the tails have to go up our arses !' Cassie said with a forcefulness that suggested a firmly held opinion on the subject. 'I mean, it's not as if it's anatomically correct or anything.'

I looked at Bryony. 'I don't think you've mentioned this to me.' I said.

'A few weeks ago you were a pony virgin.' She retorted. 'I didn't want to overload you with detail.'

'It's quite an important one.' I told her. 'If I'm going to coach you, I need to know everything.'

She was about to give a rejoinder but then she just shook her head and giggled in much the same way as she had the previous night.

'We wear nipple bells and pony tails.' She told me. 'Satisfied ?'

'Partly.' I said. 'Why the bells ?'

'Seventeen ninety seven amendment.' Bryony replied. 'There was some sort of accident and 'The Reverend' decided we should all wear bells to ensure passers by could hear us coming.'

'They didn't have to be on our bloody nipples though, did they ?' Cassie persisted.

'He'd been trying to get the committee to agree to nipple reins for a while.' Tom said. 'He was a real pervert our reverend. It all seemed to go though on the nod after that. Then in 1847, my great grandfather's great grandfather or something like that patented the Morrisey nipple bridle.'

'So Cassie's really letting the family down, Bryony added.

'Just because you're an obsessive freak.' Cassie retorted. 'Bit and clip on bells are fine for the rest of us.'

I looked at Bryony with newfound respect and not a little excitement. I'm sure her nipples were responding to all the discussion around them or perhaps they were always like this when she was in harness and the nipple bridle covered it up. Virgin I might have been but now I was sitting here with two pony girls in harness as if it was entirely normal. I wondered briefly how I would have reacted if Bryony had wanted to train me as a pony boy or 'stallion' as perhaps they might have called it here, and that made me smile. I might not feel so hot for a start. The sun was getting up and it was already quite warm; I almost envied the two girls sitting there in just their harnesses.

'Just get yourself pierced !' Bryony told her.

'Yeah, like that would make me any faster.' Cassie said. 'Besides, I'm a field mare remember. That involves a more extensive set of piercings.'

It was clearly a point of contention between the two girls.

'Your choice.' Bryony said

'What would Pippa say ?' Cassie admonished. 'Mummy why have you got those things through your nipples ?' She imitated a child's voice. 'It's so I can wear bells on them.' 'Do all mummy's wear bells on their nipples ?' 'No, darling, only the kinky ones who like to play pony in their spare time.' 'Mummy can I have a pony ?' 'When you're old enough to know what to do with one.'

I saw Bryony blush slightly and then she looked at me and blushed a lot.

I blushed too.

I'd only known this girl for fortnight.

With the break over I found myself putting Bryony back into Cassie's bridle and then harnessed her between the shafts. I managed to do it without any help this time and, with her hands still mitted even if they weren't fastened behind her back, Cassie couldn't do much more than watch.

By the time I looked around she'd wandered off. It did give me a chance to experiment with the blinkers and I realised they closed completely.

'Ish for zome ov de field eventsh.'' Bryony told me. 'And dresshage.'

'Not racing ?'

'Doo dangeroush !' She shook her head. 'But you can dry in de yard iv you wand.'

I closed them over and fastened the catch and suddenly she was there in front of me blindfolded as well as restrained and gagged.

I couldn't resist giving her nipple a little tweak.

'I can shtill veel whad you're doing.' She said, saliva already running over her lower lip.

'Having fun ?' I turned to find Cassie behind me, still harnessed and sleeved and still in her pony boots.

She held a tube of sunscreen between her mitted hands.

'Would you mind ?' She held the tube out to me. 'I'm a bit tied up.'

I looked at Bryony but, of course, she couldn't see me.

'Go on.' Cassie urged. 'Tom won't mind and you can do Sticky at the same time.'

Sometimes a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do and I did it with diligence if not style. Even with Bryony blindfolded, I tried to keep the touching to a minimum as I worked on Cassie but her running commentary and the way she kept mentioning my strong hands as I moved onto her buttocks and thighs really didn't help; I thought I coped pretty well until Cassie reminded me to do her nipples where the poked through the leather bra that supported her lovely big breasts Fortunately, Bryony couldn't see my erection though, I'm sure Cassie did.

By the time I came to do Bryony, I was rather flustered and could't enjoy it as much as I would have liked though when Cassie took the suncream away, I did make sure Bryony's nipples were fully protected and, because of her harness having no crotch strap, I had to be pretty thorough with her pussy too. It wasn't that I particularly expected her to catch the sun between her legs but since I was down there...

I enjoyed driving my blindfolded pony and immediately understood why field events and dressage were popular for the way they gave the driver total control over his mare. Bryony seemed more focussed too and more responsive to the touch of the whip; even if she wasn't going to race like that, I imagined that some training sessions with the blindfold might be useful.

As we trained some visitors came into the yard. They seemed to know Cassie and waved as they walked down to meet Tom. It was clear they weren't the least bit surprised to see a two legged red-headed pony being exercised there.

They were still there when we finished for the morning though by that time, the woman had shed her dress to reveal a harness that consisted of little more than a collar and belt and she was being installed between the shafts.

As my final exercise, Cassie had laid out a series of cones and made me guide the still blindfolded Bryony between them, first at the walk and then at the trot.

'Not bad.' Cassie said as I finished the course for a fourth time only bumping one of the cones.

I could feel Bryony tiring; she was breathing hard and sweat was running from her body in the hot sun.

'When do I get to use the whip ?' I asked Cassie, half joking.

'You can try it now if you want.' Cassie said with a grin.

Bryony shook her head. 'Nnnngg.'

'You're such a fusspot, Sticky. He's got to learn sometime.'

'Modering...' She managed to say relatively clearly around her bridle.

Cassie sighed. 'Are you saying you want me to do it ?'

Bryony nodded emphatically.

'Take her out of harness she'll show you.' Cassie said to me and then turned to Bryony. 'And don't say I don't do anything for you, Sticks.'

I freed 'Sticky' from the traces and took off her bridle. She screwed up her eyes as I removed the blinkers; she had been wearing them for over and hour and it was bright day. Then I released her from the single sleeve, watching her stretch her cramped shoulders.

'Bloody racing mares !' Cassie opined watching the process. 'Drama queens the lot of them.'

I'd assumed Bryony would put Cassie in harness to show me more but she told me to follow her over to the porch where she clipped the tips of Cassie's bondage sleeves to a pair of hooks fastened to two of the wooden pillars that supported the roof leaving Cassie standing with her back to the yard and her arms spread with her hands just above her head height. Then she took up the whip.

Crack !

Without a word Bryony flicked the whip making it crack loudly and Cassie gave a little yelp.

Down at the bottom of the yard, the Tom and his clients looked up or, at least, Tom and the man looked up, the woman seemed to be wearing some sort of hood; they then returned to their discussion. The woman was, by now, restrained in some sort of chest harness with her arms crossed behind her back between her shoulder blades and her mitted hands pulled up so the tip of the mitts was attached to the opposite shoulder.

'You're going to owe me for this Sticky !' Cassie said and I turned my attention back to the matter in hand.

I could see a new red mark on Cassie's bottom, this one about half way down and crossing both cheeks; longer and brighter than the dozen or more from earlier this morning.

Then Bryony handed me the whip.

'Your turn.' There was a note of challenge in her voice.

'You want me to...'

'You've got to learn sometime !' Bryony told me. 'Besides, Cassie here's a bit of a pain slut when she gets going and she deserves this for that little stunt with the sun lotion.'

I wasn't aware that protecting oneself from the sun deserved corporal punishment these days but I wasn't going to argue especially when Bryony stood very close behind me and guided my hand to draw back the whip. As always, the pressure of her harnessed body against mine was very distracting.

'The trick is to use the very tip.' She told me.

My first attempt was somewhat laughable. I missed completely.

The second was better in that it made contact with a satisfying slap and Cassie jumped as I left a new red line across both buttocks.

'Ow !'

'Sorry.' I called.

'She's a mare.' Bryony hissed in my ear. 'And you're a knight.'

I wasn't sure the second half was true but I allowed Bryony to reposition me and my third crack of the whip left a little red weal at the top of Cassie's right buttock.

'Nice one.' Bryony said, obviously pleased.

'Yes, wasn't it.' Cassie added sarcastically. 'You really are going to owe me Sticks.'

We did about a dozen more and by the end I was becoming a little more consistent though the thought of targeting a particular buttock or even top or bottom of it, from a moving chariot was going to take some practice.

I heard the clatter of pony boots and the rumble of wheels and turned to see that the couple were trying out a gig, the woman trotting towards us. She wore no bridle as far as I could see, just the hood with what looked like a very thick bar for a bit strapped between her teeth; there we no reins attached to it and none on her nipples either though she clearly had some sort of piercing as her nipples glinted in the sunlight.

At that moment, the man in the chariot flicked the whip, apparently catching the side of his mare's left breast and the girl veered to the right in response giving me a beautiful side view of her straight back and the poised way she held her head; she really did have huge breasts and the almost savage way her arms were restrained behind her made them jut out in front of her like melons; her high-stepping gait was perfect; her movements precise, thighs coming to the horizontal, shins vertical; the boots made it look as if she was walking on the tips of her toes. She only had one rein; anchored firmly between her legs.

The whip fell on the side of her breast again and she turned away from us, her mane of dark hair fluttering behind her where it hung free from the hood that enclosed her head. The man guided her towards the line of cones Cassie had laid out; a flick to the bottom of the right buttock took her to a canter and a second to a gallop; one to the top kept her there. What happened next was truly remarkable; at full gallop her driver lashed the sides of her body both alternately and one after another so that one stroke took her between the cones, and the next put her straight, then next took her the other way.

The chariot passed the cones with inches to spare and then, keeping her at the gallop, he turned her and brought her back the same route, pulling her to a halt before us using the clit rein.

She stood before us, balanced on her toes, poised, her huge breasts rising and falling as she sucked in air around the huge bit in her mouth.

'Eyes front, Coach.' Bryony practically had to close my mouth. 'Let's not get distracted by the dressage mares.'

A flick of the whip to the girl's right breast made her peel away towards the bottom of the yard, a second snap setting her to the trot.

Taking my eyes off her was one of the hardest things I think I've ever done.

We left Cassie spreadeagle in the porch and, again I saw evidence of the intimacy between the two girls, Bryony giving her a very fond kiss goodbye and unashamedly playing with her nipples though perhaps she was reiterating her suggestion that Cassie get herself some piercings; she reminded her of the other piecing she lacked too. Then, we walked back together. Bryony wearing nothing but her harness, her dress draped over her shoulder. The sun was hot and sweat glistened off her body; her hair shone too, liquid copper. I should have been the happiest man alive but the way Cassie and Bryony had said their goodbyes left me wondering if my role was simply just a coach, albeit with certain fringe benefits.

'You're very quiet.' Bryony said as we walked into the shade of the woods that swept away from the village green. It was still mid May but hot and the spring leaves didn't quite keep the heat of the sun away.

'You and Cassie seem close.' It just sort of came out, accusatory.

'Yes, we are and before you ask we were even closer once but that was a long time ago.'

'Ok.' I knew I should shut up. I was having such a wonderful time; I wanted so much to be a part of this and yet there they'd been flirting with each other; clearly ex-lovers with a back ground that I had no way to compete with.

She looked at me, irritated. 'She's my...friend.' He eyes dropped as she spoke and she looked away.

A couple of girls jogged up the hill toward us. They looked like any other women out jogging on a Sunday afternoon, lycra and running shoes; hair up in pony tails, water bottle in hand. One of them waved to Bryony as they passed.

We walked on in silence and when we got back, Bryony made some lunch which we ate outside. I still couldn't help thinking about her and Cassie and even when she pressed herself up against me and pulled me down on top of her the thought didn't go away completely.

The journey to the station was mostly a discussion about the training programme I was leaving her with.


Chapter 5

When she met me at Plymouth station two weeks later Bryony was wearing a blue bikini top and tiny denim skirt; she was also, I noted, wearing the leather wrist and ankle cuffs that went with the chain and collar; the set I'd hogtied her in when I'd tortured her nipples. The cuffs had given me an idea which I'd been working on and, needless to say, I'd been thinking about her a lot. I'd also been ruminating about her relationship with Cassie but if I'd had any doubt about her feelings towards me, her outfit was fairly clear signal that she was still trying to ensure my attention and, when she ran across the car part and threw herself at me, wrapping her limbs around my body and attempting to stick her tongue down my throat, it was fairly clear I'd been worrying needlessly.

'I've brought a picnic.' She said as she took my hand and lead me back to the car apparently unaware of the attention her outfit and actions was attracting. The fact I was carrying a whip along with my bag probably drew some glances too.

I'd been practicing hard.

It was a warm evening and she'd left the soft top of her BMW down.

'Shouldn't we be training ?' I asked, my confidence boosted by her enthusiasm at seeing me.

'We could, Sir.' She said flashing a smile and then turned and flashed quite a lot more as she bent down to reach for something in the back seat of the car.

As well as a picnic basket, she'd also, it seemed brought the collar and chains that went with the cuffs; she lifted them up to show me and anyone else who was watching our reunion.

'I have been training diligently, Sir. I thought you might allow me a night off to have a little fun.'

'I'll expect one hundred and ten percent in the morning.' I warned.

'Of course, Sir.' She dropped the chains onto the back seat and hopped over drivers door onto her seat.

At least she was wearing knickers.

About twenty five minutes later she pulled the car off the road and we walked up a woodland track somewhere not far from the village with me carrying the hamper and her carrying a picnic rug and her chains. She'd buckled the collar around her neck as we'd left the car.

We stopped in a rather lovely woodland glade and, I remembered the story of dryad coming into the village. Somehow the tale of the knight didn't seem so far-fetched now.

'I hope you're going to make sure I don't run away and leave you alone in the woods.' She said as she sat down, holding out the chains.

'Perhaps I will.' I locked her wrists together in front of her.

I was about to chain her ankles too when she stopped me and slid out of her knickers; they were black and lacy as I knew from seeing her bent over the car earlier. It seemed she owned one pair, at least. 'Sir wouldn't want these to getting in the way, I'm sure.' She told me as she tied them round the handle of the basket.

'Indeed not. And I've now got something to gag you with if I want to.'

She pulled a face. 'We've covered this before. If I'm gagged I won't be able to entertain you.'

She'd put together a lovely meal of game pie and salad along with some nutritional supplements for herself. She'd brought me a bottle of beer too though she stuck to her smoothie and she served it all to me in chains on her knees.

Then we got down to business; her lying in my arms, chained and helpless and me reacquainting myself with her lovely firm body and her very responsive nipples and their strangely functional rings. It was just getting really interesting when I was sure I heard bells.

Bryony reacted immediately, springing up, I thought perhaps to cover herself with the blanket but she did nothing of the sort. In fact she tottered towards the sound as fast as her lovely hobbled legs would allow. The fact that her skirt was up round her waist exposing her sex and, from my viewpoint her lovely toned buttocks didn't bother her at all; neither did the fact I'd undone her bikini top and it was hanging loose between her breasts.

In fact, she seemed far from distressed.

I soon discovered why.

From a track to our right, a pony emerged or, as she was clearly form the village, I suppose she was a mare; a blonde mare; tall and athletic and incredibly graceful. I've trained elite athletes and I love the sight of a perfectly toned girl at full sprint; those long legs with muscles so sharply defined you could do an anatomical sketch from them. She was harnessed (racing), of course, and bridled (nipple) and pulling a chariot (racing again) driven by a shorter but stockier girl. Even if she hadn't been guided by Morrisey rings piercing her nipples and a nipple bridle I would have known she was a serious competitor.

As she passed us, she barely slowed pace though her blue eyes took me in for a second as she sped past and then she and her driver (I didn't know what one called a female knight) were gone in a rustle of leaves and whir of what must have been pretty high end chariot wheels.

I looked up to see Bryony standing before me looking slightly sheepish.

'Not just a relaxing picnic then ?' I chided.

'Sorry, Sir.' She looked genuinely embarrassed.

'That was Fawn wasn't it.' I recalled seeing her on the website.

'Yes, Sir.' Bryony was doing her best to look contrite. 'Helen...Helen Dorsmann is her real name. She's the one I have to beat and...I just wanted to see what gear she was using this year.'

'And now you know.' I said rather seriously. There's a time for preparation and a time for training and a time for checking out the opposition with a view to tactical planning. 'Has it helped ?'

'No, Sir.' She took a step towards me. 'Sticky's very sorry, Sir.'

She had her hands on her thighs, cuffed loosely before her and her head slightly bowed, the chain from her collar hanging down between her little breasts; her skirt was hitched up and her bikini top completely failed to hide her breasts or her nipple rings; her wild red hair was even more rebellious than usual; she looked like the naughtiest of girls ever sent for punishment.

'Just as well I've been practicing with the whip.' I told her.

'You're going to punish me then.' I saw her lip quiver. I wondered if she'd taken acting classes for her 'glamour' roles.

'Yes, Sticky, I'm going to punish you.'

'Thank you, Sir.' She dropped to her knees, spreading them wide, hands resting on her thighs. Then very deliberately, slid her fingers between her legs and, lifted them to her mouth. With her wrists chained, she had to bow her head even lower to reach them.

'Sticky can be a very naughty girl, Sir.' She licked her fingers one by one.

I really wished I hadn't left the whip in the car.

She came to my rescue. 'Sir. Before you take Sticky home and punish her...would you...' She paused and looked up at me with huge blue eyes. '...fuck her ?' She shoved her fingers into her mouth. 'Sticky's just...so...horny.'

Acting or not, I had my fist in her hair before she said another thing and moment later had freed my straining cock from my boxers. Pushing her head down, I knelt behind her.

Her pussy was soaking and swollen and I slid easily inside her.

'Oh, God.' She groaned. 'I've missed this.'

I had too.

We both climaxed quickly and she clearly wanted more, turning round and trying to pull me down onto her. It was tempting as she struggled, chained, to push her mouth against mine and spread her legs.

'Fuck me again.' She pleaded.

There are times when someone has to take charge.

'Sticky needs to be punished !' I told her sternly.

I was pretty sure I knew why she was called Sticky Fingers now.

'Yes, Sir.' She did that lip biting thing again.

We gathered our things and almost ran back to the car; it was funny watching Bryony tripping along with tiny steps enforced by the chain between her ankles and by the time we got there she was flushed and sweating.

'I thought you'd been training ?' I chided.

'I've just eaten !' She gasped. 'And, as you can see, I'm somewhat encumbered.'

'You clearly need a bit of endurance work.'

'Can we do it tomorrow ?' She asked somewhat pointedly. 'Only I've got a hot date tonight with my boyfriend and his whip and I don't want to keep him waiting.'

I drove back, it was only a very small bottle of beer and I really didn't want to waste time unchaining her; besides, I'd been itching to get behind the wheel of the BMW.

It was fortunate she was chained, she could still reach me but couldn't quite be as distracting as she wanted to be and the seat belt prevented us from getting too involved.

As she couldn't play with me, she played with herself as well.

'Sticky Fingers !' I laughed.

'That's me.' She laughed too.

'You'd better show me what you've learnt.' She said climbing out of the car.

I took up the whip and she bent over with hands on her knees offering her bottom as a target and flashing her pussy at me.

'No modeling next week.'

'No, I've cleared my diary. I'm all yours.' She looked back at me. 'But if you hit my pussy, you'll be sleeping in the stables.'

I caught her beautifully on the bottom of the right buttock.

'Oh !' She squealed. 'Someone has been practicing or was that a lucky shot.'

I'd been practicing diligently in the woods behind my house. There wasn't really anywhere else I could wield a whip. It had been mostly private though I still wasn't sure if the lady walking her dog had reported me to the police as a pervert.

My next shot was on target too.

'Can you hit a moving target ?' She shuffled forwards still bent over.

I caught her again and she waddled faster.

Crack.

This one was beautiful, spot on target and it sounded great too.

Bryony stood up and tottered towards me. She was still smiling but there was something different about her; she'd clearly been training too; there was something about the way she moved; she was more focussed.

'Thank you.' She said. 'Sir !.'

'For whipping you ?'

'For being able to whip me !'

I held her hands and kissed her. 'I have other talents too.'

She came up onto her toes and kissed me. 'I'm rather hoping you haven't been practicing those.'

'They don't need practice.' I told her.

'Do you have to chain up all the women you want to fuck ?' She asked.

'Are you saying you want me to take those chains off.'

'God no !' She sounded shocked. 'I'm in training. I'm expecting you to keep me like this for the next two months.'

I threw her over my shoulder and carried her to bed. I was conscious I still had to punish her although seeing Fawn in action had shown me exactly what we were up against and I knew we had some serious training to do.


Chapter 6

We were up early the next morning; a training run before breakfast. I had to let Bryony out of her chains and she wore her boots but nothing else as we jogged though the woods behind her house working our way up to the edge of the moor and then round a series of field back to the top of the track that lead to the spot where I'd fucked her in harness for the first time. She was fully focussed this morning and, while I liked to think it was the spanking I'd delivered the previous evening, I think it was probably just her competitive instinct. Whatever it was, I enjoyed the way she called me 'Sir' and insisted on cooking me breakfast.

Then we moved onto some serious training.

I'd devised a new regimen and Bryony's obedience continued whether she was scrambling up the steep slopes at the side of the track or developing her agility as she danced in and out of old tyres. Even so, at times in the exercises she tired providing me with a perfect time to demonstrate my newfound skills with the whip. I particular enjoyed doing this as she performed squat thrusts, still naked and flashing her pussy at me.

The whip produced a great incentive to perform and I wondered if I could introduce it into mainstream coaching.

And this was pretty much how our days continued; run, breakfast, training, break, stretches, lunch, chariot work, stretches and then bedtime. Her comment about being in training and expecting to be kept in chains was no throwaway remark and, aside from when I used the single sleeve on her or she suggested a different form of bondage, she spent the nights chained at my side.

The sex was awesome; she was hot and focussed and constantly horny; sometimes kneeling to suck me off in the breaks between training. When she was a good girl and tried really hard I sometimes rewarded her with a little pussy munching and, if she'd been really good I let her choose what she wanted which frequently was 'a good seeing to.'

Having her in chains consolidated the idea I'd had the previous week.

I managed to source some specialist weighted cuffs which arrived a few days after my return.

'Thank you, Sir.' She said, clearly pleased, as I locked them on to her wrists and ankles.

It was a pretty intense time; exercise, food, sex; just the two of us and, after two weeks we took a night off to go to the pub. To the casual observer it was much the same but there were subtle hints of something afoot, there was a lot less alcohol being consumed for start and when you looked at the girl's dresses, and it was mostly summer dresses, though a few were in jeans or shorts and T shirts, quite a few of them showed the outlines of harnesses underneath and one or two girls were brazenly showing thigh straps beneath hemlines.

Bryony was wearing her weighted cuffs.

I was pretty sure it was a psychological tactic; an opportunity to show they were training;

I could see evidence of a good few Morrisey nipple rings too. Sticky Fingers and Fawn were not the only serious contenders.

Barbie was there too; the blonde was wearing a kerchief style top that was little more than a square of linen draped over her huge breasts. Her skirt was tiny, barely reaching the top of her thighs.

'Slut !' Cassie opined from where we sat at the back of the bar.

Bryony frowned but didn't say anything.

Barbie had lost weight; most of the girls in the village probably had if they'd been training as hard as Bryony; as before, the blonde's back was a mass of bruises and scars.

Fawn was there too, along with the girl who'd been driving her. I hadn't taken in very much of her when she'd passed us in the glade, I'd been too busy watching Fawn (from a professional stand-point, of course). The girl was a brunette and I suddenly realised as Fawn sat down on a bench beside her, was in a wheelchair.

'That's Posh Totty.' Cassie told me gesturing towards the girl. 'Her real name is Claire. She was a year above Fawn at school. Always a bit of an on-off thing between them and then when she had the accident couple of years ago they got together. Very successful partnership.'

It clearly was, a partnership in all senses, successful in the race and clearly in life too; despite her stature Fawn was clearly the 'Dee' and Claire the 'Tom'.

I managed to remain a lot more focussed this time as the conversation drifted onto harnesses but it was very distracting having such a bevvy of equine beauties around me flashing harness straps and intimate piercings. There were quite a few guys there too but not nearly as many as I might have thought and it was clear that several of the 'mares' were there in the company of female 'knights'. I was sure I heard one girl in a harness say 'Yes, M'Lady' when sent to the bar to buy a drink. I couldn't help wondering why there wasn't a line of hot blooded men eager to take up the traditional sport of mare racing in Mares-de-Launce. Perhaps a lot of the girls were just that way inclined.

As we walked home I asked about Cassie and Barbie.

'You haven't spotted it ?' Bryony gave me a slightly saucy smile.

I thought. 'No.' I shook my head.

'She's Cassie's mother.'

'No way !'

'I know you've been studying her closely.' Bryony teased. 'But she's older than she looks.'

'She does look good.' I admitted.

'Dressage mares are supposed to be eye candy. Looking good is half the battle. It's probably why dressage is sneered at by half the village.'

'Not a proper sport then ?'

'Oh, it's a proper sport. You've seen Rubber Dolly in action.' Bryony looked at me and grinned.

Rubber Dolly. I really needed to find out more about mare names.

'That's what makes it hard for Cassie, I think.' Bryony continued. 'You know that thing about us not wanting to know your parents had sex ? Well there's kind of an unwritten rule that when girls start competing, their mothers retire gracefully.'

'Oh !' Realisation dawned. 'And Barbie doesn't want to retire gracefully.'

'Not at the moment.' Bryony grinned. 'You don't have to be young to be in love.'

'The 'twat' is a new man in her life.' Another revalation hit me. 'He isn't her father.'

'No, but, needless to say, mum and step-dad are still at that stage in their relationship where they want to compete together. She's too old to race but she's a bloody good dressage mare.'

'And the whip marks ?'

'You've seen the way a dressage mare is used.' She said.

'So he doesn't beat her ?'

Bryony laughed. 'Probably, but only when she wants him to.'

'Are all women in this village masochists ?'

'Most of us are.' Bryony took my arm. 'And the rest become knights.'

'So why are there so many girl knights ?'

'Local girl's school.' She said matter-of-factly. 'When we leave the village primary school, the boys tend to go off to one of the grammar schools in Plymouth or Exeter. They get distracted and don't come back. Leaves us girls all alone...'

The following morning we were back at Tom and Cassie's.

'Mike.' Tom came out of his workshop into the yard as we entered and shook my hand. He was already at work in his leather apron, his face flushed from the furnace. 'Bryony.'

'Sir !' Bryony responded with a slight curtsey.

The race was approaching and this was a sign of her focus.

'No Cassie ?' I looked around for the blonde.

'Suppose I'd better let her out so you can train.' Tom lead us towards one of the old stables at the bottom of the yard. The top half of the door was open but the lower part was shut. Tom peered over and pulled it open, leading us inside.

It was relatively dark inside the stable and I couldn't see Cassie at first after the brightness of the summer morning but that was probably because I hadn't expected where she would be. When my eyes to grew accustomed to the light I spotted her; at least, I assumed it must be her; a woman of about Cassie's build lay on her side on the stone floor of the stable; I couldn't see her features because she was hooded, a thick leather hood strapped and, I realised, locked over her head by means of a studded collar padlocked around her neck. It covered her head completely, though a few wisps of curly blonde hair snaked out from below the collar and between the straps at the back. Her arms were strapped behind her back in a heavy duty black leather single sleeve made in the same style as the hood and held in place by thick, padded straps across her shoulders. She lay with her back to us, her ankles crossed and strapped together with another strap that was hooked through the tip of the single sleeve holding her in a relatively gently hogtie.

I wasn't surprised to see she wore her harness and I noticed there was a wire emerging from between her legs connected to what looked like a battery pack.

'Cassie darling.' Tom spoke quite loudly and the helpless woman moved in response, rolling over towards us to reveal set of clover clamps on her nipples and showing the wire did indeed disappear beneath her crotch strap.

Tom squatted down and removed her gag.

'Thank you, Sir.' She said after a few moments of moving her jaw and running her tongue over her lips.

'Bryony's here.' He told her.

'Has she brought that sexy hunk with her ?' She asked.

I couldn't help smiling.

'Yes, Mike is with her.' Tom glanced up at me.

'Good, I enjoy performing for him.' She said. 'Bryony says, he's got a very large cock.'

Bryony glared at her helpless friend.

'Enough.' Tom rolled her to one side and slapped her hard on the bottom. 'You'll embarrass our guest.'

'He's not a guest anymore, he's one of us.'

Tom shook his head and gave her another slap.

'I'm sorry Mike.' He said with a smile. 'Put in her bondage and she gets impossibly flirty.'

'Oh.' Cassie turned her head. 'Did he hear me say he's got a big cock ?'

Tom was lending Bryony a new chariot.

'Four point two kiligrammes.' He told us. 'State of the art wheels and a carbon fibre frame. Titanium axle. A village blacksmith like me has got no right to be touching one of these.'

Even Cassie seemed awed, kneeling where Tom had put her, still hooded and with her arms still sleeved and nipples still clamped.

'But you're not any village blacksmith.' Bryony told him going up onto her toes and kissing him in the cheek. 'Thank you.'

It was sleek and shiny and looked very fast.

Bryony had her dress off before I'd even thought to tell her to get ready. She'd been excited since we woke up this morning; after our morning run, we'd had sex over the kitchen table, a sure sign that she this was no ordinary day; then I'd put her into harness and fitted her nipple bridle. She'd practically lead me out of the house.

'Kneel.' I said.

Bryony dropped to her knees immediately and I stood behind her to fit her bridle. I'd brought her usual one this time with the thinner bit and, as a racing bridle, no flaps on the blinkers. I'd suggested it was unnecessary now she had the nipple rings but Bryony had told me that all mares had to be properly bridled.

Another point to Rev. Ambrose.

After training Bryony in Cassie's blinkers (blinders, I'd later discovered) I'd suggested a few more sessions; in addition to giving a wonderful feeling of control over a naked harnessed pony, I thought it would be good to ensure the signals I gave while driving were clear. Bryony had smiled and produced a rubber blindfold. I'd not used it out on the tracks but she had worn it in the stableyard behind her house. She's also worn it in bed a couple of times. It made her intensely responsive, gasping with surprise and excitement when I touched her and the night I'd spreadeagled her on the kitchen table and traced ice over her naked helpless body had made it one of my favourite sex toys. (On the next hot evening, I planned to eat ice-cream off her belly).

I'd brought the blindfold this morning at her insistence so she could 'feel' what the new chariot was like and with the bridle and the blindfold in place, I stood Bryony between the shafts and buckled her in. By the time I'd finished, she was trembling; shifting restlessly from foot to foot, excited and eager to try out the new rig.

Before I climbed aboard the chariot, I pulled out my phone and took a picture of her. For some reason, I hadn't done that until this point. I suppose it was something about her being a client and it was, after all, a rather unusual arrangement. It still amazed me that the village managed to keep the whole event a secret. Looking at the image, I could see one post going viral and the world's media descending on the little mediaeval hamlet.

I didn't post, I climbed into the new chariot, took up the reins and, with a couple of flicks of the whip started her to an instant trot.

The chariot was light and had slightly larger wheels. I'd lost a few kilogrammes too.

Bryony made the most of it, trotting beautifully ahead of me as if she were pulling nothing at all and I guided her around the yard with ease, her body responding to the whip like a dressage mare.

Tom had laid out another slalom course and I guided Bryony through it with relative ease; I think she was enjoying the way the chariot moved behind her and I watched her lean into the corners, pushing off with the springs in her boots.

She was still excited when I brought her to a halt beside Tom and Cassie. The blonde was had traded her single sleeve for the arm restraints she used in harness and was leashed, kneeling at Tom's feet. He'd clearly just removed her hood; her face was still flushed and her hair wet, tousled and matted with sweat. There was some sort of white liquid dribbling down her chin.

'Master says I have to apologise.' She said looking up at me, squinting slightly into the brightness of the morning.

I grinned.

'He says you can whip me if you want to.' She persisted. 'And that if you want me to I have to suck your cock.'

Her eyes flicked up towards Tom and I suddenly realised what the white stuff on her chin was.

I looked at Tom. It wasn't the sort of thing I'd been offered before at least not with the woman's partner standing beside her.

'I'm happy to just train you.' I told them both. 'But any slacking and I will take the whip to you.'

'If I'm a naughty girl, I'll expect to have to suck your cock too.' Cassie replied resolutely. Iheard Bryony snort and, suddenly, the sun-cream incident seemed to pale into insignificance.

'I think we'd better get you ready for training.' Tom said, jerking Cassie's leash and bringing her to her feet.

I watched him lead her across the yard to her chariot. She was wearing her tail and was definitely swinging her arse more than usual.

I heard a muffled cough and turned.

Bryony stood obediently where I'd left her harness, sleeved and bridled. I was glad that she was still blindfolded.

'When you've quide finished flirding wizh thad shlud.' She told me around the bit. 'Perhapsh I could ovver to shuck your cock instead.'

I patted her bottom.

'She is wearing her tail.' I told her teasingly.

'Fugging men !' She said with a toss of her head.

'Use the blindfold.' Bryony pleaded.

It was early evening and she was still on a high from the morning's training, kneeling on the bedroom floor; she'd put her training harness back on after showering.

'I just like to wear it.' She'd told me.

I was preparing for another leave of absence to undertake my more conventional training responsibilities; the European games were approaching.

I had her in the shiny red bedroom sleeve; strapped tightly enough to make her elbows touch; she'd accepted it willingly, eagerly; she'd said she wanted to wear a collar too. Putting her in bondage might have been a mistake but at least it kept her hands in check; between training through the afternoon and over dinner, she'd barely been able to keep her hands off me.

'We're going to have to stop this you know.' I said as I slipped the rubber over her eyes.

She stilled and I saw her lick her lips, her breast and cheeks flushing red as they did when emotion overwhelmed her focus.

'What do you mean ?' She asked warily

'Abstinence does boost performance before an event.' I told her.

'Oh, that.' She sagged slightly. 'Yes. Don't worry, I have my own chastity belt.'

'You...?'

'You get sex the night you arrive back and, maybe the morning after if you put on a good show then its nothing 'til after the big event.' She relayed all this with more calmness than I hoped she felt.

She was talking a month without sex.

'You can be a bit a control freak sometimes.' I told her.

'Says the man who's been controlling what his girlfriend does and eats for the last month and now has her tied up and blindfolded in the bedroom.'

I refrained from pointing out I was doing it all at her whim.

I slipped the collar round her throat and locked it in place.

She shuddered. 'That's heavier.'

'Yes.' I told her. 'I have new cuffs for you too...and a new harness.'

'What more could a girl want ?' She was clearly pleased, excited; to think, I used to buy girls flowers to show my affection.

'They lock on you. You'll wear them all the time while I'm away.'

'Yes, Sir.' She shuddered again and I swear her nipple rings moved.

I slipped the key to her collar in my pocket and leant down to caress her breasts, my fingers sliding into her piercing rings to play with her nipples.

'Punish me, Sir.'

It came out suddenly.

'I was thinking how good you'd been.'

'Yes...' She cocked her head slightly. 'No...Yes. There's a whip in the draw in the wardrobe.' She turned her head slightly to indicate the direction. 'I really want you to use it on me.'

It was a riding crop, old and clearly used.

'I bought it when I was eighteen.' She told me as I examined it. 'I hoped somehow it would make me a better pony.'

'Did Cassie use it on you.'

'Yes.' She swallowed. 'You know I love you, don't you.'

That was a bit unexpected.

'Sorry...' She swallowed. 'That just sort of came out.'

'I'm glad.' I kissed the top of her head. It wasn't the first declaration of love I'd had in this situation but it was the one I most wanted to hear. 'I hope you still feel the same when the race is over.'

She turned her head as if to look at me.

'You're not still upset that I had a relationship with Cassie ?'

'Not really.' I wasn't. 'I'm just not pinning any hopes on you feeling the same when the race is over.'

She tensed, pulling at the sleeve, her shoulder muscles bunching as if she genuinely thought she might escape.

'I might be a bit of psycho when it comes to training but that makes me just as passionate with everything else.'

'I know.' I and kissed her, feeling her respond urgently.

'Punish me !' She said again, emphatically.

I brought the crop down on her little breasts watching them bounce, the rings through her nipples dancing as a red line seared across her skin. She cried out with the second blow and the third and then I watched her do that thing with her lip again.

'God, I needed that.' She gasped. 'Please don't stop.'

I gave her two more.

'Thank you, Sir.' She was panting, her chest rising and falling. 'Sir...?'

'Yes ?'

'Be rough with me. Use me. Don't give me any choice.' The words tumbled out. 'There's a gag in the drawer where you found the whip.'

I'd spotted it. It was a thick rubber bar like the bit Rubber Dolly, the dressage mare had worn; it was way bigger than the bit of Cassie's bridle.

'Do you have a secret desire to be a dressage mare ?' I asked as I took the gag out of the drawer. It was about six centimeters in diameter.

'I want to try it properly someday.' Her voice was shaky. 'Perhaps you could train me for next year.'

There was a hopefulness in her voice that I knew went beyond the event itself.

'I'd love to do that.' I told her.

'You could run your training business from here as easily as in Gloucester.'

She'd clearly been thinking about this a lot even though we'd only been doing this for two months. She really was a control freak.

'I'd need somewhere to live.' I told her.

'God.' She screamed. 'Why are men so fucking stupid ?'

'I think that should be: Why are men so fucking stupid, Sir ?' I reminded her. 'But if that's an invitation to move in with you, I accept.'

'Then shut up and gag me before I change my mind.'

It was an offer I could hardly refuse.

I'd never whipped a girl before, not like this anyway although I was becoming quite used to the whip in a training context. In the bedroom, I'd played rough when I'd been asked to but I'd never been given this much control; a helpless girl, gagged and collared. Sure, I'd fantasised about it but I never thought I'd actually get to do it.

It was almost harder than pony training; I might not have done that but at least I had a frame of reference.

Grabbing her hair, I pulled her head back; it was lush anf thick and still damp from the; then I brought the crop down on her breasts again harder than before; it made a satisfying slap. She gasped around her gag, saliva spraying from her lips. The top of her breasts was becoming red and hot; it hurt her but it clearly excited her too; I could see the stiffness of her nipples and already smell her arousal, sharp and acrid over the gentle scent of the soap or shampoo or whatever she'd used. With my fist still in her hair I pulled her back further, the girdle protected her belly and the thigh cuffs, to some degree her thighs but her pussy was open and vulnerable. I brought the whip down across her pubic hair and then on the top of her right thigh, just beside her pussy. She whimpered into her gag but didn't struggle; I struck her left thigh and then, a little more gently her pussy.

She screamed but arched her hips forward as if she wanted to be struck again.

'Oh Guu !' She gurgled. 'Hurr ee !'

I obliged.

Then I pulled her forwards, pushing her face to the carpet and releasing her hair so I could slide my arm between her back and the single sleeve, lifting her wrists to hold her there on her knees, her bottom exposed so I could whip her buttocks. They were red and bruised at the top and bottom but the middle was relatively spared and this is where I targeted the crop. She squirmed and whimpered as her bottom became redder.

When I'd finished, we were both breathing hard and she was sobbing.

I thought I might have gone too far but then, with a degree of effort she rolled onto her back, lying on her bound arms and lifting her sex, clearly offering it to me.

'Ugg ee. Blsh !' She begged.

I whipped her once more on the mons and then fell on her, my teeth sinking onto the hot red flesh of her breasts as she squirmed beneath me, thrashing and crying out into her gag and trying pushed her sex against me.

'Ugg eee.' The huge gag prevented any real understanding of speech but I didn't need to hear her clearly to know she was telling me to fuck her.

I used one of her nipple rings to stretch her breast and bit her again, then, letting it go, pushed it aside and pinched her nipple until she began to squirm. Then, with my fist back in her hair, I fumbled with my belt and then my flies and shoved myself inside her.

Her response was immediate; she thrust her hips against me, her back arched; her body rigid with desire, every muscle and sinew focussed on the climax she so urgently needed.

In that state, it didn't her take long and she screamed into her gag as she orgasmed, humping herself against me as she wrung every drop of pleasure from the coupling; shrieking again as I erupted, shooting my hot load into her helpless body.

We lay together for some time, my body draped across hers, sweat mingling but all to soon she started to become restless, trying to straighten out her legs. I let her do it then I removed her gag.

'Thank you.' She whispered it, her voice hoarse and unsteady. 'I needed that.'

I kissed her gently and then removed the blindfold, watching her blink in the lights of the bedroom.

'I can see that you might enjoy dressage.' I told her.

'And you say I'm the one obsessed by the Mares' day.'

I looked at her and laughed. 'You know you're still wearing your harness don't you.'

'Oh yeah ?' She looked down. 'Whoa ! She sat up. You didn't hold back !' She was looking down at her breasts and the marks on her thighs.

'You told me to be rough.'

She smiled at me, that same smile I'd admired in the weeks when we'd first met. The one that had lead me here. 'Do you always do what I say ?'

'Mostly.' I kissed her.

'Did you say you'd bought me a new harness ?'

'Now who's being obsessive ?' I chided.

'Can I wear it tonight ?' Her eyes shone suddenly.

I fetched it from the stable. It was more or less a replica of the one she was wearing but the breast rings were much thicker and heavier and it was made of webbing lined with suede to protect her skin. I'd arranged a few other modifications too. I removed the harness she was wearing and strapped the new one in place. I had to remove her new collar to do it.

'Wow !' She looked at me. 'That's heavy !'

It weighed about twenty pounds, lead lined pockets sewn to the webbing.

'It locks in place too.' I said, slipping a padlock through one of the thigh straps.

Her eyes widened. 'Are you...?'

'I hope you like it.' I told her with a grin. 'You're going to be wearing it for the next two weeks while I'm away.'

She started to struggle but her arms were still strapped into the single sleeve and it was easy to overpower her so I could put the remaining three padlocks in place.

'You're a bastard.' She told me, though I knew she was delighted.

'Girls prefer bastards.' I told her. 'It's like gentlemen preferring blondes.'

'What about redheads ?'

'The can be control freaks and they're very tenacious when the want something. They do need a firm hand.'

'And you think you've got what it takes ?' She challenged.

'I've got you harnessed and bound in the bedroom.'

She leapt to her feet and tried to make a run for it but she didn't get far stumbling under the unfamiliar weight of the harness. I caught her and lowered her to the floor, pinning her down again.

'Is that you being firm ?' She laughed and pushed her groin against mine.

'Want me to let you go ?' I asked.

'No ! I want you to take me to bed and fuck my brains out.'

'I could cut if off you know.' She told me.

'But you won't.' I said as sternly as I could.

She looked down doing that lip thing again. She'd done it after breakfast and, as a consequence, we'd had to make up for it by driving madly to the station. It was then we discovered there was a replacement bus service, typical of a Sunday, and so she'd driven me up the M5 to Bristol and here we were on the platform at Temple Meads with her in a ridiculously brief dress that she'd flung on over her harness after our impromptu fuck over the kitchen table. The top did nothing to cover her breast rings or the whipmarks on her perky little breasts and the skirt showed off the harness' thigh straps and clear evidence of the abuse I'd given her thighs. Needless to say she was knickerless and probably had cum dried on her thighs; there was certainly cum in her hair from a misjudgement on my part when she was sucking me off at some point during the night.

To say she was attracting glances from passers-by was an understatement. I think the fact she was sitting down didn't help, it allowed anyone passing to look down her cleavage and anyone approaching to look up her skirt.

It was going to be a long fortnight.


Chapter 7

In fact I was away for nearly three weeks but I spent it on a high.

Bryony sexted, pictures herself in the harness and then one of her wearing the tail. It was the same colour as her hair. 'i thought it was time you saw this' her text read alongside a lovely rear view, clearly taken in the kitchen with the tail hanging down between her firm thighs. The whipmarks I'd inflicted were fading. As well as the harness, she was wearing her boots though they weren't laced up because the new weighted ankle cuffs that went with the harness were quite bulky. There were wrist cuffs too; each a little over four pounds.

The next one was even better; she was down on all fours pulling the tail aside and showing me her lovely tight buttocks and the red lips of her pussy.

I couldn't wait to get back.

The texts stopped four days before my return planned return which had then been delayed by nearly a week because I'd had a call from a mate of mine who coaches the hurdles team and really wanted some help for the upcoming games. I guessed Bryony might have been upset but it was an opportunity I couldn't pass up. I wasn't concerned and I certainly wasn't going to appear needy; she was clearly fine.

She wasn't.

The girl who met me at Plymouth station had short cropped hair and dark rings under her eyes; she was wearing a torn old white T-shirt and old tracksuit bottoms over her harness. She was thinner, the muscles in her arms clearly defined especially as she moved them with the added weight of the cuffs.

I could see she was wearing her nipple bridle too.

She was again attracting attention but in a completely different way.

I tried to hug her but she pulled away.

'I don't fucking believe it !' She said as she lead me to the car.

'What ?' My heart sank. I realised I'd been a complete idiot. How could I have stood her up ?

She showed me a letter lying on the front seat. It was addressed to her.

'This bit.' She said pointing at a paragraph she'd circled.

'...the committee believes this lewd act was demeaning to the Mares' Race and as a consequence for your act...'

She snatched it away clearly still distressed.

'What did you do ?' I was relieved it wasn't my delayed return that upset her but I wondered what a contestant in a pony girl race could do to be reprimanded for lewd behaviour.

'That day we walked back from Cassie and Tom's...I was wearing my harness.'

'So ?'

'It's not allowed.' Tears sprang to her eyes. 'The race is...sensitive. We're not supposed to go advertising it or we'd have the whole world turning up to watch kinky pony girls racing.'

That explained it to a degree.

'We're supposed to be discrete.' She continued. 'I know it's hard to believe... The tracks in the woods are fine but not in the village.'

'But, what...who...? Fawn ?'

'No, not Fawn. She wouldn't use that sort of tactic.' Bryony paused. 'It was that bitch Brazen; those two girls who jogged past us. Remember ? The one with the dyed hair.'

'But what's happened ?'

Surely she hadn't been disqualified.

'I've been put at the back of the grid.' She said as we pulled angrily out of the car park with a screech of tyres that sprayed a cloud of dust and gravel in our wake.

It took me a while to find out that starting positions were assigned randomly unless there was some sort of penalty applied. We'd likely be starting in the third row, quite possibly two rows behind Fawn and with our progress obstructed by other competitors.

'And where the bloody hell were you when I needed you ?' She shot me a look as we slewed off a roundabout onto the A38 and accelerated with a scream of engine noise.

It wasn't the most comfortable of journeys but at least we didn't crash or hit anyone.

I didn't say much deeming it prudent to wait until we made it back to her farm where I could talk to her without the risk that distracting her would leave us both in a far worse state.

Finally, we skidded to a halt in her yard.

'I'm really sorry, I didn't come back when I planned.' I told her. I could feel tears behind my eyes. I knew I'd really failed her.

She looked at me red eyed.

'It wasn't your fault I was careless.' She said surprisingly tenderly.

Her face was pale. Her eyes red.

'Look you recon you can beat anyone except Fawn.' I told her. 'If she's at the back too then at least your level the rest of the field don't matter.'

'And if she's at the front ?'

'Then you'll just have to put in a personal best.' I gave her my best 'coach voice'. 'You can do this.'

She sighed heavily but I thought I saw the flicker of a smile.

'Besides, you've got me back now.'

It probably wasn't the most tactful thing to say.

'I hope you haven't put on any weight.' She said rather forcefully.

'I've managed to lose six pounds and if I sweat beforehand I might get it down a couple more.'

She did smile at that.

'We'll do this !' I told her.

She'd promised me a fuck on my return but she walked straight towards the stables.

'We have three more weeks to train.' I called after her.

'I want to train now !' She shot back.

'It looks to me like you've been overdoing it.'

She admitted to double training and, as a consequence not following her diet.

'I'd say somebody needs a good spanking.' I said trying to lighten the mood.

She looked at me a little sadly and pulled down the jogging pants she was wearing.

'Is that...'

'My chastity belt.' She looked serious. 'Yes.'

Despite its significance, it was a thing of beauty; clearly designed for moving around in, overlapping steel plates and rubber padding; it was tight between her buttocks, rubber covered steel wire.

'Where is the key ?'

'Cassie has it, like always.' She said in a slightly embarrassed voice.

'And will she give it to you ?' I refrained from commenting again on the ongoing intimacy of their relationship.

'Probably not.' She clearly saw my distress and I thought her whole demeanour softened. 'Poor baby.' She said taking a step towards me and sliding her arms round my neck.

My cock gave its usual response.

'It's only three weeks.' I said with a sigh.

'Should have come back a week ago.' She said sharply.

I think I'd have preferred it if she'd kneed me in the balls to get her own back.

'Consider me fully chastened.' I told her. 'But if we're going to do this we do have to work together.'

'I know.' She kissed me on the lips pressing herself against me; I could feel the nipple bridle and the hardness of the steel belt.

'If you'd been here a few days ago, you'd have seen my lovely smoothly shaved pussy too. She rubbed her crotch against mine. 'Sooo smooth !'

'You have missed me a little then.' I ventured.

'No. I'm just reminding you what you've missed out on.' She still had her arms around my neck. 'Well, maybe I missed you a little.' Her right hand slid down to my crotch, worming its way into the top of my jeans. 'I am glad you're back and I did promise you a little present when you got back.'

'Oh ?'

'Let's go to the bedroom.' She said with a smile that reminded me why I loved her so much despite our short acquaintance. 'But only for half an hour.' She warned me. 'Then we train.'

'Half and hour. Then we eat.' I admonished. 'After that we think about training.'

'Yes, Sir.' She peeled off her T shirt to reveal her body displayed in the harness with the rings around her breasts and the bridle on her nipples; she was much thinner, any trace of fat gone; she'd clearly been training harder than she should have for more than the last ten days or so; I might even be tempted to say that her breasts had shrunk. Combined with the short hair and the intensity in her eyes she gave the impression of a wild woman captured but by no means tamed.

As she lead me inside, I couldn't help thinking it was going to be an interesting three weeks.

'At least that can come off.' I said reaching for the steel bar imprisoning her nipples.

'Those are off limits too.' She said sternly.

'That's not going to be much fun.'

'It's not supposed to be fun.' She said. 'We're training. Now, do you want a final blow job or not ?'

'How could I refuse such a gracious offer ?' If she was still mad at me she had a funny way to show it.

She slid fully out of her sweat pants. 'You can tie me up if you won't to.'

'Final ?'

She didn't answer, just went down beautifully with a smirk on her face that reassured but told me she had something planned. I didn't tie her up, she was harnessed and locked in chastity my captive Amazon warrior.

The urgency wasn't there and there was less emotion than before but the way she pleasured me on her knees was as meticulous as I remembered, her tongue working along my shaft, hot and moist, lips caressing, rubbing her cheek against me as she licked my balls.

I didn't last the full thirty minutes but she must have worked me for at least twenty until I was drooling freely and my fluids were smeared all over her cheeks; then she smiled up at me and took me in as deep as she could almost gagging as her chin pushed against my balls then, finally, she brought her hands up holding my thighs and ran her lips back and forth along my shaft until I exploded into her mouth.

I watched her grin as she swallowed.

'I trust Sir was satisfied.' She said licking her lips.

'Very much worth the wait.'

'Good.' She looked at me cooly. 'I will be something to remember.'

'What have you got planned ?' I was suspicious and anxious. I guess I can be insecure at times.

'A final surprise to make sure you don't go running off again.' She crawled to the wardrobe giving me another reminder of her imprisoned sex and pulled open the door taking out a package which she tossed onto the bed. It looked as if it might be quite heavy and I thought I heard a metallic clunk.

The box was about a foot long and six inches wide and deep. She'd gift wrapped it in tissue paper.

'A gift ?' I said.

'Go ahead.' She said mischievously. 'Open it.'

Carefully I tore off the paper and then opened the box.

Inside was more tissue paper and I pulled it open.

Whatever it was, it was shiny, metal plates and a series of rings about an inch across.

I suddenly realised what it was.

'I don't need this.' I said dropping it hurriedly.

'Really ?' She challenged.

'I'm not racing.'

'I thought it was something we could do together.' She said with a slight smirk that turned into a pout.

Part of me said I should show her who was boss so I did.

'Ok.' I told her. 'If it's what you want.'

Like I said, I can be insecure but there's something about making these sort of little pacts with those you are training, showing you share their commitment; however, it's usually not drinking or getting up extra early.

'Thank you.' She said with genuine meaning. Then she jumped to her feet, her smile broadening as kissed me. It wasn't the most romantic of kisses, I could smell the cum on her breath and feel its stickiness on my cheek.

I guess that's when you know you really love someone.

On reflection, the kiss, despite its sticky subtleties was probably a mistake. I'd just had one of Bryony's extremely thorough blow jobs and, even if she didn't look her best at this moment in time, she was a red hot lingerie model wearing a pony girl harness and cuffs.

She tried several times to get me in but every time she touched me, it had exactly the wrong effect. In the end she had to fetch a bowl of ice cold water which certainly did the trick and, with my cock threaded through six gates of hell and a little cage around my balls, my gorgeous girlfriend went to make me lunch.

I swear she put on the skimpiest dress she owned, the little pink cotton number that she'd worn on our drive to Bristol and had probably owned since she was about thirteen; the stretched, baggy neckline giving me a perfect view of her little breasts and the steel prison confining her nipples and the hem was so high the chastity belt came into view every time she lifted her arms of bent over reminding me of the lovely smooth pussy locked beneath.

I made sure she ate and then we talked tactics for an hour despite her obvious desire to be back in harness so to speak; it was thus mid afternoon by the time I took her along the track. After nearly three weeks in the weighted cuffs and harness and the intense training she had undertaken, I could see a clear improvement in her performance even if her legs did look a little skinny.

I made sure I put her through her paces, walk, trot, canter and gallop.

Strangely, my chastity belt made me feel more in control. 'Something we could do together' she had said. She wanted me in her life and, combined with the send off she'd given me before my departure, it meant I had no qualms using the whip.

I think the fact that she'd put me in chastity made me a little ruthless too.

By the time we returned to the yard for the final time she was clearly exhausted but I could see from the smile on her face that she had loved every moment of it and that the whip marks that now liberally covered the top of her thighs and her buttocks had added to the pleasure of her workout.

After she'd stretched and showered I introduced her to my latest acquisitions. If she was happy to lock me in chastity, I was more than happy to introduce her to her to her latest harness; eight pounds heavier and the cuffs, each a couple of pounds more than the previous ones.

'Thank you, Sir.' She pouted as I locked them on her body.

I smiled slightly thinly. 'Perhaps we could swap keys.' I suggested.

'Not gonna happen, Big Boy.' She said squeezing my packaged package and causing another bout of constricted discomfort.

I wondered briefly if the key might be hidden somewhere in the house. It wouldn't be hard to leave her chained up in the bedroom while I searched.

It was a passing thought and beneath the dignity of a professional like myself, however tempting it might seem.

I let her rest while I cooked her tea; nothing fancy or particularly tasty, just protein and carbs. I was as chaste as she was and I needed to do something to take my mind off it, even if she did keep wandering into the kitchen half wearing nothing but her harness and chastity belt; to add to my frustration, she kept her nipple bridle on too !

Perhaps she wanted to make sure I knew it was all off limits.

I did put candles on the table and that made her smile. Then we want to a gentle walk to pass the time before bed.

Even though we couldn't get up to much, I'd been looking forward to taking her to bed but when I told her we should go up she sprung another surprise.

'I've been sleeping in the stable.' She told me. 'Chained.'

I wished my other athletes were as diligent as this.

She disappeared for a moment then came back into the sitting room carrying the chain set I'd used on her before.

'Would you mind, Sir.' She dropped the chains on the sofa beside me and held her hands in front of her. 'Chain me.'

What else could I do ? I locked the chain to the collar of her new weighted harness running it down the front of her body and then padlocked her wrists and ankles to it. Then, with her tripping along behind me, I took her out to the stable. There was a thin straw mattress laid out on the concrete floor and a woolen blanket and another chain, new and shiny, padlocked to a ring in the wall and I wondered if she'd been chaining herself to this too but she didn't mention it so I kissed her goodnight and went to bed.

Tempted though I was, I didn't search for the key.

It was about 2am when she came in. I heard the stairs creak and then the click of chain as she tottered along the landing and then saw her standing pale and chained in the moonlight, framed in the doorway to the bedroom; it's just as well I don't believe in ghosts though if any of them are pert little redheads in chains I'd be happy to meet one, especially if she had the power to undo locks.

She snuggled herself against me, reassuringly warm, and I held her; there wasn't much else much I could do though my cock tried very hard, pressing itself against the steel wires between her buttocks. The nipple bridle made sure there was no way I could even toy with a perky nipple.

'If you tell me to, I will go to Cassie's and get the keys.' She said.

At least I knew where mine was now.

'No.' I said; a man has to be firm.

So I lay there for a while and stroked her body; it was a pleasure of sorts; her body felt wonderful, muscles firm and defined under a thin layer that seemed little more than skin; she really was a superb athlete; I should know, I've bedded a few (always, well mostly, after training them). There have been quite a few who have been very grateful and willing to show it; they've mostly been amateurs especially the high level ones, they don't earn anything apart from recognition so they don't have that much to offer (I could be callous and say the really keen ones don't have much in the way of friends either) or, taking it the other way around, they offer what they can. There's often a relationship built up too, reaching an intensity that after the event is going to be lost; a night of rampant sex is a way of diffusing that energy; and then there's the hormones: these are young virile women in the prime of life subject to the same urges as the rest of us and probably only satisfying them with cold showers and long runs.

It might be unprofessional but there you are with a woman you've spent several months with in an intense relationship who's probably not had sex for most if not all of that period throwing herself at you with a desperation born of absolute necessity. You could almost consider it therapy, part of the service...

I've had a few of my male athletes offer the same but I've always turned them down though, I do remember being tempted by one of them.

The next morning's breakfast was a bland as supper the night before and then we trained, sprints, weights, circuits before another lovely protein-carb mix and an afternoon with the chariot to which I added a few pounds taking it at least to the weight it was with me in the first time I drove it, probably about a stone more (I'd lost more than a few pounds). I wanted her to feel the difference when we used Tom's new racing one.

'May I come to be with you again, Sir.' She asked as she knelt in the sitting room while I locked her in chains for the night.

I looked at her kneeling and utterly submissive. Throughout the day she'd done everything I told her, putting her all into the training, swallowing the protein shakes with no more than a grimace and clearing every scrap from her plate.

'No.' I told her levelly. 'Mares should be in the stable.'

Her eyes widened a fraction and then she bowed her head. 'Yes, Sir.'

It was one of the most beautifully submissive demonstrations I've ever seen and it almost broke my heart to leave her like that but after chaining her wrists and ankles I took her to the stable and padlocked the chain fastened to the wall to her collar to tether her. I made sure her hands behind her back too to keep her out of mischief.

Then I went to bed.

Sleep didn't come easily. It's often the case at this stage in a training regimen, the intensity driving me on and lying there thinking about the hot redhead I'd just chained in the stable did nothing to calm me. So, I lay there thinking about her and at about 2am when I got up to 'check on her'.

As I came out of the kitchen door I thought I heard her cry out; the noise came again and I rushed forward suddenly concerned for her.

How could I have left this woman I was supposed to be looking after chained up outside like an animal ?

I sprinted across the yard and looked over the stable door to see what was happening. She was lying on the bare floor her front with her back arched, her body tense; rocking on her hips; her nipple bridle clicking on the concrete, her arms were twisted round her body and her hands under her hip, fingers clearly working their way under the chastity belt. She was so engrossed in what she was doing she didn't even notice I was there to see it and, as I watched, she writhed before me in her chains moaning in frustration.

'What are you doing ?' I asked though I knew full well she was trying to masturbate.

Startled, she flipped round in a manoeuvre that I'd have thought almost impossible for a helpless chained girl.

'Sir ?' Her face was flushed and even as she stared up at me wide eyed, it turned crimson, the blush spreading to her chest and down her body.

Redheads do seem to blush at the drop of a hat and Bryony is certainly a prime example; I might have thought this was a problem for a fetish model but apparently it's a good thing because it makes her look aroused in interested; though she tells me it's not that hard looking aroused and interested when she's doing a fetish shoot, especially when there is bondage involved.

This one was, on a scale from one-to-ten, a full ten from the roots of her shaved hair to the tips of her toes.

It was easy to pin her down, she's smaller than me and she was in chains; she could have struggled more but she knew she'd been a naughty girl. With my knee across the back of her thighs and my hand in the small of her back I spanked her until her bottom glowed in much the same way as her body had when I'd caught her.

When I stopped she was panting and my hand was starting to feel sore.

'Thank you, Sir.' She was even more horny now and so was I. My cock strained against its prison.

I rolled her over and took the key to her chains from around my neck. She made no resistance as I undid the padlock between her wrist cuffs and pulled them much further up her back leaving her with her elbows out like Cassie in her field harness. Then, I pulled up her ankles and locked them near her smarting buttocks so that she was hogtied. There was going to be no touching herself for the rest of the night.

I saw her strain against the cuffs and chain but her strength was no match for the leather and steel. I doubted she'd get much stimulation from squirming her sex against the floor with the chastity belt.

'Thank you, Sir.' She lay panting and frustrated.

'See you in the morning.' I said leaving the stable.

'Please, Sir !' She looked up at me urgently and did that lip thing. 'Sticky's very sorry.'

'And Sticky is going to be punished.' I told her.

'Yes, Sir.' She squirmed her way back onto the thin mattress laid her head down.

I stood watching, it was a beautiful site to behold.

After a few minutes she looked up.

'You can be a real bastard sometimes.' She squirmed trying to get herself comfortable.

'I do my best.' I said with a smile. 'And don't forget you're supposed to call me 'Sir'.'

'Fuck off.' She pulled futily on her bonds again. 'Sir.'

'I think it will be the single sleeve tomorrow night.' I chided. 'Bedroom tight !'


Chapter 8

After that I did keep a very tight rein on her, literally. She spent most of the next three weeks in almost constant bondage. I even chained her between training sessions during the day if I left her alone and sometimes even if I didn't. The sight of her harnessed and chained and utterly submissive was beautiful despite the frustrations it brought.

I kept her in the stable too bringing her food out and feeding her as she knelt beside me naked and chained or, more commonly leaning back in my arms. I enjoyed this and I know she did too; there was no rush over the meal, it wasn't as if we could go to the pub and she was too exhausted for a walk so we sat together talking.

I think it was, bizarrely, the first time we had not focussed on the race or sex.

I learned about her growing up the village and how, like other little girls of her age, she wanted to own a pony; in her case, Cassie. She told me about their relationship too, how Cassie had reaslised she wasn't quite as bisexual as Bryony and gone of with Tom. We talked about other stuff too, politics, art, travel; the sort of things usual relationships are built on. Not unsurprisingly, we shared a love for the pre-Raphaelites and romantic poets.

I didn't actually follow through with my threat of the single sleeve. I did plan to bring the shiny red one down from the bedroom but she asked if I could commute her sentence and suggested her old dressage harness that she had hidden away up in the bedroom. It had shoulder straps and sleeves ending in mitts that tapered to points and made her hands useless; like Cassie's field harness, the mitts had rings sewn into their tips to anchor them in place. I did fear that she might struggle to spend the night in too extreme a restraint; she had certainly been stiff the morning after I'd left her in the hogtie even though I'd freed her at six and she'd only spent a little under four hours in it. However, she told me to wrap her arms round her chest and anchor the mitts to the weighted harness; it reminded me of Jim Weather's bolero straight jacket; it was fairly comfortable (so she assured me); it also meant I could stroke her breasts freely and, when I removed the nipple bridle to check on her lovely little buds I could even play with them. This latter activity was one of our few luxuries though it came at the price of knowing that things couldn't escalate and did leave me severely frustrated on more than one occasion. I'm sure it was worse for her.

It wasn't all erudite conversations, chaste touching and physical training; we had to plan too.

'Talk me through the race.' I told her on the third evening.

She was still in her racing harness, kneeling, her arms strapped behind her in the racing single sleeve. We'd put in an extra dressage type session in the yard to sharpen up my driving skills and she had a new collection of red welts on her buttocks and thighs. As was becoming our normal practice in these sessions, I'd been driving her blindfold to ensure I was guiding her correctly and, as a result, she was very focussed, excited. I'd removed her bridle but left the rubber blindfold in place. If it hadn't been for our chastity belts, I would have been looking forward to some great sex.

'Yes, Sir.' She knelt on the stable floor, back straight, head up. 'At the start, we'll need to get clear of the field but I'll need keeping in check. It's a slight climb up the field and most of the girls will struggle. I want to get to the gate at the front of the pack...'

Thwack. I bought the whip down on her breasts.

'No.' She corrected. 'Near the front of the pack.'

'Better. I don't want you overdoing it.'

'Yes, Sir. We must keep right, to the inside of Fawn if we can, it's slightly downhill as we exit...'

'Good girl...'

She talked her way through the race and then I made her do it again.

After that, I put her through the exercise every night, standing over her with the whip though, after a few days, I didn't have to use it often. She didn't seem to resent being treated this way and, in fact, whenever I came into the stable in the evening, if she wasn't already kneeling, she would immediately scramble to her knees, straightening her back and bowing her head. She always addressed me as 'Sir' and thanked me for everything I did for her, be it feeding her or whipping her breasts.

Other than our daily training runs and sessions between the traces we only went out once. Bryony was desperate to watch Cassie doing her final training session as we were likely to miss the field events because of our preparations on the morning.

Bryony was careful to cover up as we walked up to the village though she did wear her weighted harness under her dress and her wrist and ankle weights which were locked on her at any time she wasn't actually pulling the chariot. It didn't seem at all strange to see the outline of the harness and even the nipple bridle though the dress now and we had both grown used to the leather wrist and ankle cuffs.

I laughed when she asked if she could wear a pair of heels to complete her slightly odd look.

'If we're going out, I want to look my best, Sir.' She said with a smile.

The heels were about four inches, strappy sandals and they did go with the dress though perhaps not the rest of her ensemble. They also showed off her toenails, most of which were black despite the relative comfort of her pony boots.

I wondered what Jim or Terry would say if she turned up for a photoshoot now. She looked better than when I'd returned from Gloucester but her face was still thin and her eyes a little dark and sunken combined with the short hair she gave the impression of someone being liberated from a prison camp.

I was just thinking this when she asked me to leash her; I was surprisded but I certainly didn't refuse.

'You can cuff my wrists too.'

'Really ?' I asked. 'Won't it bring the contest into disrepute ?'

'It will be fine at this stage. The harness was a bit too blatant. This is fine and I...I really like being treated this way.' She told me in low whisper, dropping her head in another beautifully submissive gesture. 'Please don't stop.'

'Even the chastity ?' I teased as I cuffed her wrists.

'Apart from the chastity.' She blushed, smiling for a moment. 'You wouldn't believe how horny I am.'

I pulled her close using the leash and kissed her on the cheek.

'You can be harsher with me if you want to.' She whispered. 'I wouldn't mind.'

Short of fully fledged torture or starving her, it was difficult to think how I could be harsher; I kept her in almost constant bondage, forced her to do hard manual labour under the threat of the whip, punished her when she did anything wrong and fed her the equivalent of gruel. There were probably political prisoners who had easier routines.

'Perhaps I'll think of an extra punishment for you tonight.' I told her with a smile.

It was a fine evening and we weren't the only couple out on the green. There was a knot of people around a wooden shelter that looked a little like a bus stop on one side of the green though I wasn't aware that Mars-de-Launce had a bus service.

'The grid !' Bryony said suddenly running forward and dragging me behind like the owner of some excited puppy.

There were over a dozen there; mostly couples including Tom and Cassie; the latter clearly ready for action in her harness in flagrant disregard to any rules although, in Cassie's case, the important bits were pretty well covered even if her nipples were poking through the leather cones of her bra, they were partly hidden by the bells clipped to them; and her sex was covered by the crotch strap. She was already bridled, Tom holding her reins as they studied board in front of them.

She was wearing her tail too.

Tom was dressed up too in a riding jacket, breeches and boots. The other men there wore the some sort of outfit. A couple of the female 'knights' were similarly dressed. I felt decidedly shabby in my jeans and T-shirt.

There were three lists, one quite short that I noticed had the names 'Barbie' and 'Rubber Dolly' at the bottom. The middle list was the longest and I could see 'Sticky Fingers' at the bottom; next up was Joy Toy and then, above that 'Fawn'.

I heard Bryony squeal with delight.

'Bryony !' Cassie managed through her bit. 'Gucg ! You rearry are going vor id thish year.'

Others turned at this remark; men and women. All the women who weren't dressed as knights were wearing harnesses of some kind though, unlike Cassie, they had all covered them with dresses or at least T-shirts. There were tails too, lots of swishing tales some rather blatantly visible beneath T-shirts while others trailed discretely below the hems of dresses.

Only one other woman was cuffed. Fawn: tall and blonde, leashed too and bridled, her wrists locked together by quite a long chain in front of her body. Seeing her beside Bryony and most of the other girls emphasised the blonde's height and her athleticism; it was hard to imagine how Bryony could keep up with this long limbed athlete.

'Both at the back of the grid.' The girl who spoke was Claire; the brunette in the wheelchair. 'This could be interesting.' She was holding Fawn's reins. You might even make Fawn break a sweat.'

'I'm looking forward to it, Posh.' Bryony glared down at the slightly buxome brunette as Fawn turned, towering above her driver and Bryony; framed by the bridle her face appeared stern, lips drawn back around the bit, the gaze of her blue eyes was steady. I could see the straps of her harness sticking out from the thin white cotton vest she wore and the outline beneath the material; like Bryony she wore a nipple bridle; she also wore a tiny white thong to protect her modesty. She was wearing pony boots too and a tail that matched her hair.

'It's not Posh Totty anymore.' Claire looked up at Bryony. 'I'm not a mare so I think you mean 'Miss Jones or M'Lady'. Mares should be respectful; unless you want another penalty.'

'I'm gonna beat you...M'Lady !' Bryony said with an intensity that was almost ferocious.

I realised it was time to intervene; Bryony might be cuffed but I could see this getting out of hand.

'Come on, Sticks !' I said firmly. 'Let's go and watch Cassie train.'

I pulled on her leash for emphasis and fortunately she turned to follow me as we walked slowly over to the forge alongside Tom and Cassie accompanied by the gentle tinkle of Cassie's nipple bells. I could sense Bryony shaking.

'We're going to beat them.' I said firmly.

'I know.' She snapped back. 'And I can't wait until Saturday.'

The yard was set out like some sort of children's assault course with coned areas, some with tape between them; there was a raised section too and a pair of planks over a log.

We watched as Tom closed Cassie's blinkers and then installed her between the shafts. By the time he'd finished Bryony seemed to have calmed down.

All seemed relaxed until the gate to the yard suddenly opened and everyone looked round; even Cassie's head turned sharply at the sound.

It was Barbie along with 'Lord Twat'. I'd never actually asked his name.

Barbie was leashed and dressed in a white leather bikini that looked fabulous against her deeply tanned skin. She had a matching collar around her neck and, when she turned slightly, I saw her wrists were cuffed behind her with white leather cuffs. The couple nodded to us and stood just inside the gate. Then, a moment later, Barbie glanced around and dropped to her knees.

Cassie had clearly heard the gate too and knew there was someone watching her and I could see it by the way she stood that made her tense. I saw Tom stroke her bottom and whisper to her.

'Why don't you go and distract her.' I said to Bryony.

'If you think it would help, Sir.' Bryony looked slightly skeptical.

I let her off the leash and freed her wrists then went to introduce myself to Barbie and her partner.

'Lord Twat' or 'Charles' as he introduced himself was, like me, an 'outsider' who'd stumbled across the place one afternoon while on holiday and also stumbled across the love of his life at the same time. Somewhat dully, she'd been working in the garden of her cottage rather than clip-clopping around the lanes in full harness though I did get the impression that she was wearing something almost as brief as her current outfit and, when he'd stopped to ask directions, she had ensnared him.

It didn't take long for him to wax lyrical about the Mares' day or his own mare and I found myself quite liking him. He clearly followed the athletics too and had heard of me which endeared him to me.

'Of course, not everyone's been welcoming.' He nodded towards Cassie and looked down at her mother, kneeling docily beside him. 'She's only forty seven...' He confided. 'Why shouldn't she have a little fun of her own ?'

'Charles !' Barbie admonished.

Charles looked down sternly and she lowered her head. 'Sorry, Sir.'

'God. I love this place.' He said.

We heard the snap of a whip and the subsequent jingle of bells and looked round. Cassie had gone straight to a rising trot; apparently the 'obstacle course' as it was called was mostly performed at this pace with a few sections at gallop; like dressage, it was done with the mare blindfolded.

Cassie trotted up the yard towards us her nipple bells jingling and her knees lifting beautifully, the walls echoing the clip-clop of her boots on the stone; then she turned sharply right round a cone; from this angle it was possible to see how straight her back was; how tautly she held her shoulders back; her head held high, the perfect right angle of her knees at their height; it showed her focus too; the precise determination with which she held the bit between her teeth.

'From what I understand...' Charles said. 'This is all about precision. A bit like dressage but not as freestyle. Turns should be a sharp right angle though sometimes they include forty five degree ones to try to disorientate the mare and test driver control.'

We watched as Cassie turned again, four steps with her knees rising before striking out again to approach the first obstacle, a narrow gap between two cones. Just before Tom's back blocked my view, I had a lovely flash of her back and bottom, her hands locked to her girdle, leaving her round bottom exposed; her tail swishing delightfully. As she passed the first gate Tom used the whip on her flank rather than the reins to turn her; a single sidestep to line her up with the next gate then, as they passed that one another stroke to take her to the left. She zigzagged through the slalom gates and then turned sharply, coming to an abrupt halt, knees rising like pistons before Tom started to take her backwards pulling on the 'barding rein' to 'park' the chariot in an area marked out by more cones. The whip stopped her and again she trotted on the spot.

She was breathing hard already and there seemed to be quite a lot of the course to go.

'There's quite a lot of that in dressage.' Charles said.

Tom flicked the whip and Cassie started forwards.

'There's quite a lot of that too.'

As he said it, Barbie looked up and smiled. Her entire back was a mass of welts and bruises; from what I could see her buttocks were too.

I saw Tom drive Cassie forward then try to turn her again but she went round a little too far and he had to use the whip to straighten her as she took the ramp to the raised section.

'Penalty point.' Charles commented as Cassie trotted along the boards which were barely wider than the axle of the chariot.

Bryony joined us at this stage, standing beside me for a moment. She had shed her dress and shoes leaving herself naked aside from the harness and cuffs. I saw Charles appraise her. Barbie looked up and smiled too.

'Good evening, Sir.' She said to Charles with surprising courtesy then bent and kissed Barbie on each cheek then she dropped to her knees beside me.

Barbie was still leashed and I thought it appropriate to reattach Bryony's.

She seemed to like this, leaning in slightly and brushing her shoulder against my thigh.

'Sir ?' She looked up at me. 'Would you cuff me again ?'

I bent and clipped her cuffs together.

'Thank you, Sir.'

I saw Charles smile.

Cassie had come down off 'the boardwalk' and was working her way up the yard at the trot and then suddenly, at the flick of the whip accelerated to the gallop, coming to an almost instant halt just ahead of us, boots skittering on the concrete as she idled at the standing trot.

Her skin was covered in sweat now, shining in the evening light; saliva frothing round her bit and she panted hard; her thighs not pumping with quite the regularity they had a few minutes ago. Tom backed her slightly and then used the whip to peel her off a little like I'd seen the dressage pony. Rubber Dolly, do a few weeks before.

Despite Cassie's tiredness, they took the seesaw easily; her taking the pivot as a jump, no mean feat for a blindfolded restrained girl pulling a full grown man; and a large one at that. The chariot ran gently up the planks which tipped and then ran down the other side as Tom held his hand over the brake.

'That was good.' Charles told me. 'It's another penalty if you use the brake.'

I noticed Barbie smile. The botox might have suppressed a little of the life in her face but her blue eyes were shining and I wondered if this represented pride.

'I assume you know that Cassie is Barb's daughter ?'

'Yes.' I nodded.

'And that young Cassie disapproves of me.'

'It's not you, Charles.' Barbie said suddenly. 'Sir.' She added. 'It's the fact that I still want to compete.'

Her daughter still had another minute or so and I could see she was tiring and they once again negotiated the seesaw.

'Though I might say we both share a number of things in common including the fact that we've both chosen completely unsuitable men.'

Charles looked somewhat embarrassed.

'By which I mean, Charles is not her father and that great oaf Tom is hardly the most suitable to pull around a field in a chariot.'

'You disapprove of him ?' I asked cautiously.

'Lord no.' She laughed. 'Sorry, Sir. I forget myself sometimes. He's a lovely chap. I mean, she's hardly going to win anything with him in tow.'

'I hope I can still compete when I'm forty seven.' Bryony said suddenly.

'Is everyone going to state my age this evening ? Barbie huffed indignantly.

'Sorry Mrs Lovell.'

'That's Barb to you Sticky.' Barbie winked. 'We're both mares.' I wondered what she thought of her daughter being called Swallow, I was pretty sure she knew why.

Cassie arrived in front of us breathless and sweating and Tom stepped down from the chariot. Charles clapped and I joined him. It wasn't as if the girls could do much.

'Well done, Swallow.' Tom patted her flank. 'Now, I'm going to open your blinders.'

Cassie nodded slightly and Tom released the catch.

I saw Cassie screw up her eyes tight and then open them cautiously, blinking. Then she looked down. It's not always easy to tell someone's mood when you can't see all their face and a bridle can alter a girl's expression. However, I thought I saw Cassie's expression darken.

'Mum ?' She managed round the bit.

'Hello, Cassie.' Barbie stayed on her knees.

There was an awkward silence.

'Hello, Barb.' Tom said.

'Good evening, Sir.' Barbie looked up at him, her tone completely submissive. 'If you don't mind me saying, you have a very well trained mare there.'

Tom smiled and I couldn't help thinking what a surreal situation this was. 'Yes, she is rather fine isn't she.'

'That was a pretty good run, dear.' Barbie looked at her daughter.

'Shang u.'

Barbie looked up at Charles. 'Sir. May I stand.'

Charles nodded and Barbie rose gracefully to her feet; she was taller than Cassie anyway and in the dressage boots that kept her on her toes she towered above her; like this, she was almost as tall at Tom.

'I just wanted to wish you good luck on Saturday, dear.' Barbie said then she leaned in to kiss Cassie on the cheek though, in fact her lips made contact with the blonde's jaw; there really wasn't much face to kiss with all the bridle's straps and the blinkers.

I saw Cassie stiffen.

Barbie noticed it too.

Bryony nudged me and I looked down. 'May I stand too, Sir ?'

I rolled my eyes. 'Yes.' Everyone did seem on formal behaviour this evening.

Bryony rose to her feet, rather gracelessly, I thought, in comparison; perhaps it was the lack of boots in her case.

'Cassie.' Bryony looked at her friend.

Cassie looked at her mother. 'I hobe you do well on Shaturday, doo, Mum.'

The words were rather forced but Barbie smiled. 'Thank you...' She hesitated. '...Swallow. That means a lot to me.'

I thought there were tears in her eyes.

'Does anyone fancy a trip to the pub ?' Tom said suddenly. 'A Notice Day orange juice.'

Things went a little tense again.

'Good idea, Tom.' I wasn't convinced but I felt I should do something.

'Splendid idea.' Charles added.

Whether the girl's agreed of not, they were in bondage and leashed and, in one case bridled.

Charles and I walked to the pub with Barbie and Bryony in tow.

'Do you think she'll come ?' Charles asked as we crossed the green.


Chapter 9

It was clearly ladies' night in the pub.

The place was actually quite crowded and there was a buzz of excitement despite the fact that most of the girls were drinking juice or water; most of the 'knights' were too thought a few clutched pints.

I'd left Bryony in just her harness and she wasn't the only one; the mares had shed their outer clothes and there were a variety of fit bodies on display all packaged in leather straps and buckles; nipples decked with bells, tails swishing...it was a fetishists wet dream.

Almost as we walked in, I was confronted by the rear view of a girl bent over a table examining other mare's nipple ring. She wore a racing harness and pony boots and had pink hair and a matching pink tail.

Even as I tried not to look too closely, another girl in harness, a brunette, slapped the pink haired mare on the bottom and she looked round.

'Bristols !' The pink haired girl smiled up at her assailant.

'New tail, Candy ?' The brunette, presumably 'Bristols', asked.

'Yes, needed a new one to match.' The girl, 'Candy', I assumed, flicked her pink hair.

'Nice.' Bristols responded running her fingers through the tail's pink strands.

'Larger size.' Candy told her and looked round in a rather conspiratorial manner. I saw her mouth move but she kept her voice low. 'Too much anal.'

'Eye Candy ! You naughty thing.' Bristols admonished her friend with another slap to the buttocks and turned away.

Bristols was a rather buxom girl, she was dressed in a field harness which, unlike Cassie's left the tops of her formidable breasts exposed; her nipples sported horizontal piercings and bells tinkled beneath them as she walked away, her own tail swishing.

I wondered if her pony name might just be 'Bristol City'. Whatever her true name, she was a girl with the right attitude in so much as she was carrying a pint.

I really fancied a pint too but forced myself to order an orange juice. Bryony was on water. As I paid I noticed another 'list' behind the bar, the list of mares alongside figures that were clearly betting odds; Fawn was clearly the favourite at 7-2 on but I was pleased to see Bryony (Sticky Fingers) second at 3-1 with 'The-Cat-That-Got-the-Cream' next at 4-1. There were odds for the field events too with Cassie (Swallow) half way down the field at 11-1 though her mum was clearly favourite to win the dressage at 2-1 on.

Bristol City and Hot'n'Wet weren't expected to do well in their respective classes.

I only had a tenner in my wallet so I put it on 'Sticky Fingers'.

As I turned I saw a blonde in a racing harness take hold of Bryony's bridle. 'Hello Sticky' The girl said pulling her into a very intimate kiss.

'Hello Honey.' Bryony emerged from the kiss with a smile on her lips and a flush on her cheeks.

'You're taking it seriously this year I see.' Honey patted Bryony's chastity belt still firmly holding onto her nipple bridle. '3-1 too.'

With her hands cuffed, there was little Bryony could do but I sensed such treatment didn't bother her.

'And is this the trainer.' Honey looked at me over her shoulder.

'Yes, this is Mr James.'

Honey giggled. 'Is he really hung like a donkey ?' She said way too loudly.

'He's a ten at least.' Bryony said rather coyly.

'Nice.' Honey surveyed me lewdly. Like Bristols, I gathered she wasn't being abstemious. 'If you ever want o hire him out, I'm always in need of some training.' She looked at me and winked. 'I need a very firm hand.'

Honey was clearly a racing mare.

She released Bryony's bridle and started to turn away but then grabbed her again and turned her round. Obedient pony that she was, Bryony turned, although, of course she was being guided by her nipples and had little choice.

'Bryony, you naughty girl.' Honey admonished. 'Where's your tail ?'

The blonde delivered a stinging blow to Bryony's buttocks.

Bryony looked rather sheepish. 'Sorry Hon. I kind of forgot it was Notice Day. That's why we're a bit underdressed.'

Honey looked at me, her hand still in Bryony's nipple bridle. 'Make sure you spank her hard later !'

She gave Bryony another slap and guided her towards me until I took over control.

'Do you have something to tell me ?' I asked Bryony as Honey slinked away, her blonde tail swishing behind her.

'Sorry, Sir.' Bryony looked at me with those lovely blue eyes. 'It's kind of a tradition. We tend to dress up on Notice Day. I kind of forgot with all the training.' She lowered her eyes. 'Honey's right, you probably should spank me later.'

'I might just do that.' I pulled her close using her nipples. 'I should probably spank you for other reasons too.'

She looked up, blue eyes wide, surprised.

'What have you been saying about me ?' I asked as sternly as I could.

'Oh !' She caught my meaning. 'I may have been spreading a little propaganda...and a bit of gossip.' She wrinkled her nose. 'Actually, Sir, I probably do deserve a spanking.'

'Sticky !' Another mare gave Bryony a more than friendly kiss barely acknowledging me even though I was still holding the nipple bridle.

'Good to see you, Puss.' Bryony said with a smile.

I gave a tug on the nipple bridle to remind her I was there.

'Sorry, Sir.' Bryony said with a smile. 'This is The-Cat-That-Got-The-Cream.'

The girl turned. 'Call me Puss.' She said with a smile, her eyes drifting down to my crotch. Unlike Bristols and Honey I was pretty sure she was abstaining from alcohol but from the way her eyes had raked over Bryony, I suspected she was indulging in everything else.

She turned back to Bryony. 'You know Cream's away ?' She said flirtatiously, her finger running down Bryony's chest.

'Yes, I heard.' Bryony replied. 'I hear the Goose is driving you.'

The Cat shrugged. 'I guess she'll have to do.'

'Pussy !' A girl dressed in riding gear hooked a finger in 'The-Cat's' nipple bridle and, somewhat to my relief, lead her away.

Having regained control over my mare, I lead her towards the beer garden in the hope of finding Tom and Cassie and trying to reduce the chance of another lascivious hand trying to take control of Bryony's nipples.

'How do you get your names ?' I asked as I lead her through the back of the bar.

'Oh.' Bryony blushed slightly. 'When we do our first race our friends choose them for us.'

'You're friends have a warped sense of humour.'

'The committee that checks them all.' She told me. 'So they can't be too overt though there's been a lot of fun over the years trying to get names past and I think they've more or less given up.'

'Bryony.' More fingers took control of my lovely mare by her nipples interrupting our conversation. I noticed it was a rather firm grip this time but I was pleased to see no snog accompanying it; I'm not a jealous guy and I'm front of the queue to watch a bit of hot lesbian sex but I was beginning to feel a little irritated at the way my hot girlfriend was handled so intimately by half the girls in the village; I suspect it was the effect of the chastity; at least, she wasn't being groped by the men of the village.

I recognised the latest handler as the brunette dressage pony from a few weeks before. Up close, she was even more stunning than I'd thought when I'd watched her being whipped into action in the yard; she had unusual grey eyes, the colour of winter clouds and lovely sensuous lips that I could appreciate now they weren't wrapped round a bit. She was clearly older than Bryony, perhaps late thirties and taller, and she carried herself with the elegance one might expect of a dressage pony. Tonight, her hair hung in a loose, a glossy black mane framing her pale face; her skin was almost white and her features highlighted in a contrasting black, lips, eyelids, a hint on her cheeks instead of blusher. The whole effect was to make her look deliciously exotic and her pale skin gave her the appearance of a classical statue brought to life albeit one that had been thoroughly whipped at some point along the way.

Like Barbie, she was dressed in next to nothing though in her case, thin strips of black material stretched from the steel collar locked around her throat to her silver nipple rings (horizontal) where they broadened to cover nipples in a way that afforded a modesty absent in the rest of her costume; the strips then stretched down across her belly to disappear between her legs where I suspected they joined her clit ring; a single strand emerged from between her buttocks, running up to the back of her collar. She was wearing her dressage boots, moving with perfect balance despite being right up on the tips of her toes though they appeared to make her move with a slight restlessness.

'All set for Saturday ?' She asked with a slight arch of her perfectly groomed eyebrow.

'Yes, Miss Carter.' Bryony's voice was a little unsteady as she looked up onto those storm grey eyes.

'And you must be the new coach.' She brought that gaze across to me and I knew that I would probably do anything she asked. 'I understand you more familiar with me than I am with you.' A smile played across those sensuous lips and I felt a sudden urge to kiss them.

I'm only human and I had been in chastity for two weeks.

'Yes, er...Miss...Carter... You were...magnificent.'

Those lips curled into a knowing smile. 'That's very kind of you to say so.'

Her voice wrapped around me like a summer breeze.

'I was just telling Mike about how we get our names.' Bryony cut in.

'Were you now ?' Miss Carter released me from her gaze. 'Yes, it's all got a bit risque these days, Rubber Dolly was considered a bit out there in my day'

'Rubber Dolly ?' I suddenly wondered how that had come about.

'They tried to get 'Rubber Lover' past the committed but they wouldn't have it. I've always had a bit of a thing about rubber so it was quite an appropriate choice.' She favoured me with an enigmatic smile.

I looked again at Miss Carter's clothing or lack of it; and she guided my hand to one of the strands that ran from her nipple rings to her clit piercing; it was rubber and I pulled it gently toward me.

'Please don't let go.' She said. 'That get's rather wearing after a while. Dirty Dancer has just spent the last five minutes teasing me.'

With the whip marks covering her body I wondered that the snap of a piece of elastic made much difference.

Fortunately, she clarified.

'It's not the pain...' She said in a low voice, leaning forward. 'I actually quite like that.' Another one of those smiles. 'It's just that these...' She pulled the rubber strap where it broadened out over her right nipple to show the underside and exposing her engorged nipple in the process. 'The rubber's got these little cilia on and they drive a girl wild if you know that I mean.' She let the rubber snap back, readjusting the nipple ring and leaned in further. 'There's some down below too.' She pointed to her groin. 'Reuben thinks it's good to keep a mare on her toes.'

I looked at Bryony's chastity belt and wondered if I'd made the right call; perhaps chastity wasn't the only route to victory in their sort of contest.

Miss Carter noticed and patted Bryony's belly.

'I think this is the best way. It requires a lot of discipline not to just keep wanking myself off.' She smiled again. 'Perhaps you and he could talk tactics sometime.'

'I'm sure Mike...Mr James would be delighted.' Bryony said rather pointedly.

'I see you've met Honey Pot.' Miss Carter seemed to get the message.

I must have looked confused.

'Honey Pot.' Miss Carter told me. 'The blonde you were just talking to.' She looked at Bryony. 'That is how you got your name isn't it ?'

Bryony did one of her blushes, this one was an eleven; even fiercer than the one in the stable when I'd caught her masturbating; her face glowed so brightly I thought she might spontaneously combust and, as Miss Carter explained that it was by dipping her fingers in this blonde Honey Pot and then licking them that had given Bryony her name the blush spread to engulf her entire body making heat literally radiate from her body; it was a wonder the pub's fire alarm didn't do off.

Miss Carter laughed. 'Anyway it's good to meet you Mike. I'd love to see Sticky here win.'

She was about to leave us when her 'knight' arrived.

'There you are, dear.' He was holding a leash.

'Yes, Master.' Miss Carter's alabaster cheeks coloured slightly and she stood straight, slipping her hands behind her back and pushing her breasts forwards.

I looked at Bryony in surprise but she had apparently seen it all before.

The man clipped the leash to her collar then took a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and slipped them on Miss Carter's wrists.

'Come along.' He said giving a slight tug on her collar.

'Yes, Master.'

I watched as Miss Carter followed her master towards the door; walking with perfect poise, her bottom swaying. I was focussed enough to realise that she seemed to have a plug but no tail and to notice the mass of bruises and welts that covered her back, bottom and the back of her thighs.

Bryony coughed loudly and I looked at her suddenly.

'Would you mind putting your tongue back in your mouth.' She said rather sharply.

'Sorry.' I was suddenly aware of the way I'd behaved.

'Don't worry.' She laughed, much to my surprise. Miss Carter has that effect on everyone. And, since you're wondering, no, dressage ponies don't have tails, and yes, that is a butt plug.'

I swallowed. 'Ok.'

'There's probably something else in front of it too.' Bryony said with a slight sigh.

'She seemed very familiar with you.' I said, hoping to learn a little more about this mysterious woman.

'Our schoolteacher.' She said by way of explanation.

'What ?' I wished I'd had a teacher like that when I was at school. I'd probably have worked a lot harder but I wondered how an obviously submissive woman who got her kicks being whipped as a dressage pony had any ability to maintain discipline. I've done some kids' coaching, it's a bloody nightmare but, perhaps, she had other ways of controlling people.

Hadn't the dryad in the story stayed in the village and married the village cartmaker ?

'Do lots of ponies call their knight 'Master' ?' I asked.

'Not really.' She looked slightly awkwardly. 'It's usually 'sir' or 'M'Lady' but if you want me to call you 'Master'. I'm very happy to.'

'I could get to like it.'

'Yes, Master.' She pressed herself against me, lifting her lips to kiss me.

'What was that for ?'

'This room is full of hot women in bondage.' She said. 'I want to keep your attention...Master.'

'Oh, you've got it.' I kissed her again. 'Come on, let's go and find the others before anyone else tries to steal you away.'

Cassie and Tom arrived as we stepped out into the garden. Cassie still seemed sweaty and flushed despite the fact that she must have had plenty of time to cool down.

Her arms were still cuffed in the small of her back.

'Play nice.' Bryony hissed to her friend as we went to join Charles and Barbie.

Cassie rolled her eyes but proceeded to kneel down beside her mother.

The two of them looked incredibly hot kneeling side by side.

'Been doing a second run, dear ?' Barbie asked her daughter.

Cassie blushed almost as furiously as Bryony had just done and Tom almost choked on his pint.

After we walked back from the pub, I chained Bryony in the stable and went to prepare her an evening snack. This close to the race, she needed to fill up on carbs.

When I took it out to her, I found her squatting in the corner relieving herself, the chain to her collar at full stretch. With her ankles cuffed and her wrists chained behind her back she looked quite uncomfortable.

'Sorry.' I said trying not to look at her, naked and harnessed, my kinky little pet.

She shrugged. 'You keep me chained like an animal, perhaps I'm starting to behave like one'

'Not very positive.'

'Sorry, Sir' I think she was.

When she'd finished, she walked towards me still in a crouch and dropped to her knees.

I put the bowl of pasta down and kicked it towards her.

'Eat.' I told her.

She looked at me, her blue eyes wide, I think she was genuinely shocked but then I saw a flicker of excitement and then she lowered her head.

I watched her eat, crouched over the bowl but I didn't enjoy it.

'Stop it.' I said after a few minutes and she lifted her head. There was pasta sauce smeared across her cheeks; she looked adorable. 'I'm here to train you, not enslave you.'

She smiled genuinely. 'I wouldn't mind, S...Master.'

She blushed beautifully.

'Actually, I like feeding you.' I told her as I wiped her face. 'It's less messy too.'

I sat down beside her and pulled her into my arms, then began to feed her and she leant against me.

'I do have to punish you later though.'

'Why ?' She turned to look at me and nearly got a forkful of pasta in the cheek.

'I'll start because you forgot it was ' Notice Day'. You didn't wear your tail.'

'Oh yes.' She giggled, spilling more pasta sauce onto her chin.

'I might also be upset that you didn't tell me the full story about Honey Pot.'

'Oh that.' She snuggled against me. 'It seems all my secrets are coming out now.'

After feeding her, I held her for a long time as she nestled in my arms, naked, helpless and utterly desirable. We didn't say anything but I felt and intense desire for her and each time she moved my cock swelled urgently in its prison. Eventually, I could sense her falling asleep and I eased her down onto her side, wrapping her in the rough blanket. Then I kissed her on the cheek.

'Goodnight.'

'I thought you were going to punish me.' She murmured sleepily.

'I've decided to let you off after what you said about me.'

She opened her eyes and looked up at me clearly uncertain what I meant.

'You said I was a 'ten'.'

'Oh, that.' She grinned. 'I'm sorry to burst your bubble, Master, but I was talking about tail plug sizes and they go up to sixteen.'

My bubble was well and truly burst. I stood up.

'You do have a nice by cock, though, Master.' She whispered. Then, as I closed the stable door, she added. 'I love you, Master.'

I stopped and turned.

'Shit !' She said quietly. 'I didn't mean to say that out loud.'

I brought her a flower with her breakfast.

'Don't go getting all soppy on my now ! Just 'cos I struggle to keep my tongue under control.' She warned as she knelt up easing her stiff shoulders as best she could. Her wrists had been cuffed behind her back since we'd been to Tom's yard the previous evening.

'Not a chance.' I replied. 'This is your last intensive day of training. After that it's rest and stretching and carb loading.'

'Sounds wonderful.' She said rolling her neck around. 'Three days in bondage.'

'I like to please.' I said and kissed her.

'You'd better bridle me too so I don't say anything else stupid.'

'Very flattering.' I said.

'I meant most of it.' She said with an impish grin. 'You do have a nice big cock.'

'And the other bit ?' I knew I shouldn't have asked.

She looked at me levelly for a moment then shrugged. 'I meant the other bit too.' Then she smiled. 'God ! What a girl has to do round here to get breakfast.'

'Want me to untie you so you can eat for yourself ?' I asked.

'No, I want you to put it on the floor so I can eat like the dumb animal I am.'

I put the bowl down in front of her and she bent forward.

'I did mean it.' She looked up at me. 'I do.'

I bent and kissed the top of her head.

'You really need a shower.' I told her.

'You can be a real cold bastard sometimes.' She told me.

'I'll remember that when I'm taking the whip to you arse for not pulling hard enough.'


Chapter 10

I really put her through her paces, keeping her between the shafts virtually all day, driving her up and down the trail and then whipping her in tight turns round the yard with the blindfold over her eyes. It was intense and we were both so focussed we barely noticed the clouds rolling in. We'd spent three months training in glorious sunshine.

I felt the first few drops of rain late in the afternoon as we climbed up to the moor for the eighth time, Bryony straining in her harness, close to exhaustion, sweat running freely down her body. It was the first time I'd ventured out of the yard with her still blindfolded. By the time we gained the crest of the hill I could see the storm out at sea, dark and ominous, lighting flashing, the waves rolling a gunmetal grey with spumes of white. It was a spectacular sight and I watched the flashes as I let Bryony rest.

She looked just as awesome and the steam rising from her body in the chill air the storm brought gave her an almost supernatural quality.

I planned one more run and with the storm coming turned her back, driving her down the hill towards the stream using the whip. She ran beautifully splashing through the water and toiling up towards the farm as I used the whip freely. Then, as she galloped towards the yard the rain began to fall more heavily.

I gave her only a moment's respite before turning her again. The rain was begining to soak into my clothes and, sat in the chariot I started to feel chill. Part of me wanted to stop but I wanted that final run.

A blindfolded pony at the peak of her fitness.

I sensed a slight reluctance but I used the whip and she obeyed, lifting her legs to a rising trot when I signaled despite her fatigue. It was all very different from that first run three months before when she'd struggled to pull me up the gentle slope in the warm sunshine. I put her to the canter and let her gather speed as we descended the hill and then felt the water of the stream splash up making me shiver but Bryony didn't slow and, when I flicked the whip under her buttocks, she strained in harness up the final climb. The stream had already risen several inches, the rain falling in torrents now; I saw her slip as her boots sunk into the mud.

I probably should have stopped but the sheer exhilaration was overwhelming, driving a pony girl, fully trained and utterly obedient.

I whipped her on and watched her strain.

For the last few hundred yards she toiled against a headwind; the rain stung my face as it struck almost horizontal in the wind and I marveled at her grit knowing her whole body was exposed to the biting torrent; just as I struck the whip repeatedly against her back to drive her on.

As we neared the top of the hill we slid into mist that reduced visibility to a few feet and, as it swirled around me, Bryony almost disappeared from view.

I decided she'd had enough and pulled her to a halt, turning her on the track to take her back.

With the wind behind us she seemed to fly down the hill, the mist chasing us so I only saw how swollen stream was at the last minute. Blindfold and utterly under my control Bryony plunged in, the water swirling around her calves then her thighs, clinging to her as the chariot stopped dead. I felt myself thrown to the side and the current started to take me.

'Fuck !'

We stopped for a moment, the water buffeting the side of the chariot. At first I wanted to climb out and push but, as I moved, I realised that without my weight the chariot would be swept away dragging Bryony with it. Helpless in bondage she could easily be drowned.

I shook the reins and used the whip, watching as Bryony strained to pull us free, the muscles of her shoulders and her back and buttocks tensing, straining as she took one step, then another.

I whipped her again and urged her on.

She gave one final heave and we were free.

'Good girl.' I shouted though I doubt she heard me.

She was naked and soaked and shivering.

I shook the reins and whipped her again forced her to the trot up the hill and ensuring she had no respite, driving her to pull with the last of her energy, her tired legs slipping as she tried to find purchase, puling the heavy chariot through the now soft mud that had once been the hard earth base of the track.

She was right, I can be a complete bastard when I need to be.

We reached the top of the hill and I whipped her to the gallop making her give everything as we hurtled towards the yard at breakneck speed; one slip and it could all have gone horribly wrong but I knew she could do it.

I hauled on the brake and the reins just before we entered the yard to check our speed and make sure we didn't skid even as a part of my thought how much fun it would be to do a handbrake turn..

She stood gasping, trembling, chest heaving, the rain pelting her body, running over her skin.

*

She start shivering violently even in the few moment it took me to fetch her blanket from the stable. I wrapped her in it and fumbled to free her from the traces and shafts with my cold fingers. Then I lead her inside.

The house provided some shelter from the rain and wind but it was chill; we'd enjoyed the coolness of the old stone during the heat of the summer but now I wanted warmth. I cast the wet blanket aside as water pooled on the stone floor of the kitchen and started to towel her down, rubbing her with the towel from the kitchen; she was shaking violently, her teeth chattering around the bridle.

'Come on.' I lead her through the hall and up the stairs into the bathroom where I pushed her into the shower turning up the heat before stripping off my clothes and joining her.

'You bashtard.' She screamed through the bridle.

Then she pressed herself against me her mouth seeking mine and, even as her tongue pressed from behind the bit trying to enter my mouth I realised that in my haste I had left her blindfolded.

I held her against me as the water ran over us; her skin was chill against mine but her tongue was hot and urgent in my mouth. My cock surged as she ground her hips against mine.

'Vugging chashtity.' She screamed in frustration. 'You're gonna have do schain me bloody shecurely donighd.'

An hour later, she knelt on the living room rug in front of the fire I'd lit. She was once again wearing her weighted harness and cuffs and, of course, her chastity belt. She looked pale and demure, the picture of submission though the mass of welts and bruises on her back and the shockingly bruised state of her nipples where I'd given her a night off from the bridle might suggest to the casual observer that she had been beaten into such a state rather than entering it of her own volition.

'Are you sure you're ok ?' I asked as I sat down in front of her with a steaming bowl of pasta in my hands.

'You can't possibly imagine how hot I am for you right now.' She said with a tired smile. 'I'm almost thinking of abandoning any thought of winning the race and walking up to Cassie's to get out keys. Except that I'm really not sure I can make it that far.'

I began to feed her, one mouthful for her and one for me.

'You know that thing you said about being here to train me and not enslave me ?' She said though a mouthful of pasta.

'Sort of.'

'Couldn't you do both ?' She blushed, 'Being kept chained up in the stable is actually quite a turn on. If I'm honest, I've fantasised about it a lot. Although, if you did stay, I'd expect to be chained to the bed most of the time when we weren't training.'

'And what would I get out of this little arrangement ?' I asked thrusting another forkful of pasta in to he mouth.

She glared at me. 'You mean having a hot little slave slut who would be willing to please you in any way she can isn't enough ?'

'It's a tempting offer.' I smiled a little sadly. 'But you really should ask me again when the race is over.'

'Yes, Sir.' She said. 'Looking at me intensely but I won't change my mind. Whatever happens in the race, I want you to stay here as my Master.'

I freed her hands when I walked her back to the stable and she crawled beside me on all fours, leashed and collared; at least it speared her nipples. Then I chained her spreadeagle on her back rendering her utterly helpless and vulnerable aside, of course, from the chastity belt.

'Would you mind gagging me too, Sir ?' She asked.

'If you insist.'

She opened her mouth and I put the thick dressage bit between her teeth.

'Sha uu, Shr.' She lay back.

She looked so helpless and vulnerable, I couldn't resist playing with her nipples and she moaned with pleasure despite their obvious sensitivity.

'Blsh, shtob, Shr.' She begged after a few minutes. 'U mag e sho hrny.'

I lifted my fingers away then I covered her in a dry blanket, bent to kiss her and left her for the night.

And that was more or less, how we spent the next three days. Bryony in constant bondage and utterly submissive, eating when she was told, stretching and rehearsing the tactics for the race. During these last three days, she showed no embarrassment squatting to relive herself in front of me and, on one occasion when she was tightly chained, even asked me to wipe her pussy afterwards.

I did let her jog a couple of times but only round the yard and only on a tight leash. I made her do it blindfold too.

She ate on her knees crouched over her bowl and asked to be gagged at all other times.

When she spoke, she addressed me as 'Sir' or 'Shr' or, with increasing frequency, 'Master' ('Mshdr') and, when not gagged always preceded it by saying 'If Slave may be permitted to speak...'

As final preparations went it was unusual but remarkably effective.

On the morning of the race I forced 'Sticky' or perhaps, 'Slave' to eat another bowl of pasta. She was clearly struggling to finish it and had been the same for the previous twenty four hours; I've seen it in a lot of athletes, a mixture of nervous adrenaline and attempting to cram as much nutrition into their guts as they'd normally eat in a week.

When she'd finished, almost heaving on the last mouthful, I let her into the house to shower. Mares, it seems, need to look their best as well as being at the peak of performance. It was at that moment that Cassie arrived with a very important key.

'Only one ?' I asked.

'You get yours after the race.' Bryony told me un a surprisingly unsubmissive tone.

'But the extra weight...'

'Is nothing compared to the loss in performance if you loose control and take me over the kitchen table before we leave the house.' Bryony told me with a tension in her voice that meant she was not in the mood to argue the point.

She'd definiately dropped the use of 'Master'.

I refrained from commenting as Cassie unlocked Bryony's chastity belt and wished her good luck and then I kept a watchful eye while my lovely mare prepared herself. Then, still frustrated, I helped Bryony into her best harness before lacing the sleeve tight on her arms (racing tight) and strapping her feet into the pony boots. She'd polished the harness the night before and it shone in the morning sunlight. She looked gorgeous; lean, strong a thoroughbred mare; moving from foot to foot with a restless intensity; the pony boots almost part of her and the loss of use of her arms almost normal.

Then I fitted the nipple bridle.

I'd done this on a daily basis in training but handling her breasts like this today was an almost unbearable torment for my poor constrained cock; I'd been in chastity for nearly three weeks but like any good British officer it made another valiant if futile effort to escape.

It did the same when I clipped the nipple bells to her piercing rings.

'Don't forget my tail.' She reminded me, a slight smile surfacing through the tension in her face. 'The lube is in the tube beside it on the bed.'

My cock gave another surge and I'd probably have coped with this but she bent over and spread her legs, lifting her hands to allow me access to her rear end and in the process flashing her newly freed pussy lips. Her hair had started to grow back and I'd just had the pleasure of watching her give herself an intimate shave.

I felt my balls throb painfully, realising that I was about to spend the day among women like this, naked and restrained in pony harnesses and, quite probably, as horny as I was after a period in enforced chastity.

I really hoped Cassie was going to be there with the key when we finished the race.

It was the first time I'd handled her tail; it was lighter than I expected.

'Rubber coated carbon fibre.' She told me as I picked it up.

I ran my fingers through the long red hair.

'It's all mine.' She assured me. 'I had a complete shave when I did my first race and had the hair made up into a tail. Most of us do it at some point.'

I couldn't help smiling at the bizarre situation in which I found myself.

I lubed the plug and, with my cock straining and my balls aching, pushed it gently inside her.

It slipped in rather easily, and I saw it move as her sphincter closed behind the rib just above the base.

'I think I might need a bigger one too.' She said as I clipped the ring to the bottom of her harness to secure it in place.

Then I bridled her. Her 'race-day' bridle had a much better finish than the training bridle and a fitting to hold a 'favour'; all proper pony girls should have a plume to make them look their best. I couldn't help thinking she'd look better with a full mane of red hair rather than the GI Jane look she currently sported. In my view pony girls should have ponytails or, perhaps plaits. It was traditional for the knight to bring a favour for his (or her) mare and I'd made up a little spray of feathers about four inches high, it was the logo I used for my training company. My father was from Wales and it was a variation on the Welsh rugby logo.

'Getting a bit of free advertising ?' She chided as I clipped it in place.

'I'm thinking of coaching mare's full time.' I told her. 'Some of them are fairly highly strung but the fringe benefits are definitely worth it.'

'I doubt it pays much unless you find a dressage mare.' She sounded surprisingly serious. 'But you can always supplement your income by betting on the winner.' She was a flash of challenge in her eyes.

'I've bet on you.' I assured her.

'How much ?' She asked coyly.

'Only a tenner.' I felt embarrassed. 'It was all I had on me at the time.'

'That doesn't give me the impression you rate my chances.'

'You're going to win.' I told her in my best coach voice. Though without seeing any of the competition bar Fawn I really had no idea. However, the odds suggested the villagers knew she was in with a shot.

'Yes, I am going to win.' She told me levelly. 'And after the other day you're the man to help me.'

She leaned forward and kissed me then I slid the bit onto her mouth and locked it in place standing back to take in my perfect pony all decked out for her big race.

It was going to be way too distracting to have a fully harnessed mare in the house, especially with her bare sex glistening and available even if I couldn't make full use of it so I lead her out to the yard, hobbling her ankles with a pair of cuffs to stop her overexerting herself and then running one rein from each end of the nipple bridle to separate posts incase she decided to take advantage of her newly freed sex and rub against something.

Then I went inside, dressed in my 'knight's' costume; or rather the modern equivalent; green blazer (every sports coach has one), white jodhpurs and boots then I picked up my whip and went to collect my mare.

We walked in silence up to the village other than the almost clip-clop of her pony boots and the tinkling of her nipple bells. I didn't want to interrupt her mental preparation and the bit, I knew, made conversation difficult.

As we approached the village green I could hear the sound of the tannoy system from the Tourney Field making it clear the field events were already underway and as we walked across to the forge I caught the odd words, 'nice reverse', 'good use of the whip' and 'he'll be pleased with that'. It sounded like they'd got as far as the 'obstacle course'. Then there was the sound of applause and I caught the comment 'That Swallow really is a lovely little mare...she did well in the slalom and came fifth in the sprint...definitely in the running for a top three place this year.'

Bryony looked at me and smiled.

'Next up is 'Bristol City' or 'Bristols' to her friends; driven this year by 'Lady Grey'.'

There was a cheer and the sound of a hooter which I assumed signified the start of the 'obstacle course' for the buxom brunette and her 'knight'.

There really didn't seem to be enough men in this village.

I opened the gate to Tom's yard and lead Bryony it. The chariot was waiting for us just inside the gate.

'Ready ?'

Bryony shook her head and then gestured towards the wall.

'You need a pee ?'

She nodded and I let her squat, gallantly turning my back as she relieved herself in the corner of the yard. Then she stood, gave me a brief smile as I began to harness her between the shafts.

Twenty minutes later, after a brief turn around the yard to ensure everything was correctly adjusted I lead her out onto the green and up towards the Tourney Field.

We were half way across when I heard the sound of pony boots off to my left and spotted Fawn trotting gently towards us pulling 'Lady Claire' in the chariot.

'She'z sho vugging cocky !' Bryony exclaimed.

'She may regret it later.' I told her. 'It's a grueling race. In my book she should be conserving her energy.'

'She jussht wantz to magge an entransh.' Bryony persisted.

She would certainly do that. Tall and graceful, back straight and head up, small breasts thrust out the reins running back in a gentle arc from her nipples to her driver's hand. Fawn had a clear future as a pampered dressage pony when she finally gave up racing though, judging by those I'd already seen, she might need some breast implants if she really wanted to succeed in that class. We watched as she trotted along the road nipple bells jingling, tail swishing, knees rising with an easy grace. Lady Claire sat behind her in a neatly fitted red jacket over a tight white blouse and white leather breeches; she wore a fascinator which resembled a small top hat and had black father dancing beside it. Fawn ignored us but Lady Claire glanced over although she didn't acknowledge us.

'We're going to beat her.' I said.

'Doo righd !' Bryony agreed.


Chapter 11

There must have been nearly three hundred people on the Tourney Field; as well as mares in harness and knights there were crowds of spectators many sporting 'rural' tweed despite the summer heat; a few carried riding crops; there were others too, pony girl aficionados presumably; quite frankly it was incredible there weren't thousands of BDSM enthusiasts milling around the place to ogle village's kinky women in their harnesses. There were a few 'outsiders' dressed up including, noticeably, a pair of gorgeous blondes in clinging black rubber that must have been very hot as they strutted about the field; they were strapped into typical BDSM style harnesses with a convergence of leather straps stretched over their pert little breasts and running up to a ring over their nipples. They wore play hooves and were bridled, they sported play ears too and were lead around by a brunette in a white leather bustier and thigh boots; all highly decorative but probably not very functional. (Oh, how my views on life had changed recently). They had a photographer with them and I gathered they were from Equus Eroticus magazine.

The local press were there too but nothing national as far as I could tell. There were, however, a number of telephoto lenses and I was pretty sure Bryony was being snapped (papped) up as I lead her up the field.

The ground was slightly soft beneath our feet, the effect of the rain from a few days earlier leaving the going medium to firm though, from our point of view it made little difference as most of the Mares' Race was on road.

The field events had just finished and girls in harnesses mostly still attached to chariots were being lead or driven away from the grass track after the final sprint. I spotted Cassie and Tom and the latter waved, giving a 'thumbs up' as he drove Cassie back up the field towards the starting grid they (well, Cassie) had just run up from. She looked as if she was labouring hard after a morning pulling Tom around but she smiled around the bit as she toiled to pull her chariot.

A few mares were already in the starting grid including Eye Candy, her bridle decorated today with a pink plume and The-Cat-That-Got-the-Cream decked out in a strange mix of anthropomorphism with cat ears as her 'favour' and whiskers drawn on her cheeks. Her driver 'Lady Loosy' wore a double breasted jacket over her considerable bust and, I judged, very little beneath; she also wore lederhosen and leather boots.

'This is it.' I told Sticky unable to resist giving her a gentle pat on the bottom.

She made a small noise in her throat but didn't look at me.

I looped the reins over her head and climbed into the chariot. This time it barely sagged at all; then I adjusted the reins in my hand, made sure I was comfortable and flicked the whip under her buttock ensuring I went slightly wide so I didn't catch her tail.

She started off beautifully, her pert little bottom tightening and toned legs straining. She held her head high and pushed her chest out. If she hadn't been papped before, she certainly would be now. I only wished she still had her lovely mane of red hair.

I negotiated the field following Hot'n'Wet past The-Cat-That-Got-the-Cream turning to take up position beside a mare I took to be Joy Toy. Lady Claire and Fawn followed us in. Directly ahead of us I recognised the girl who's nipple rings Eye Candy had been inspecting.

She was called 'Golden Girl' Bryony had told me later. I'd shrugged and suggested it rather an unoriginal name for a blonde considering the goings-on in this village. Bryony had laughed. 'Oh, it's nothing to do with her hair.' She'd said enigmatically. 'She has a habit of wetting herself when she climaxes.' I'd obviously looked puzzled. 'You have to remember...' Bryony explained. 'For most of us, pussy munching was our first sexual experience. GG gives a girl a rather unexpected shower.'

I tried to ask if she had first hand experience but she'd told me a girl had to maintain some degree of mystery which told me all I needed to know. I now knew three of Bryony's ex-lovers.

Whatever the provenance of her name, Golden Girl looked a pretty formidable contender with her Morrisey rings. Her 'knight' was an older lady who I knew to be the mother of Whipped Cream.

Slowly the grid filled, fourteen gorgeous ponies (sorry, 'mares') in full harness, lips drawn back round bits, heads up, breasts bare, nipples hung with jingling bells, sexes exposed and all prancing on their toes in shiny leather racing boots. At least five of the 'knights' were girls and I couldn't help thinking that there must be dozens of hot blooded males in the crowd who would eagerly to strap these pert young fillies into tight bondage and race them for pleasure; but then I'm a new man; I accept that one in four people are gay and, if girls want to drive girls I'm really not going to stand in their way.

The wait was almost unbearable and around me highly strung mares jittered in harness, nipple bells tinkled, manes were tossed and tails swished. A couple of knights used their whips across the top of their mare's buttocks and pulled tightly on their reins to still them.

'Ready.'

A silence descended and air of expectation; utter stillness where there had been noise.

The hooter sounded, impossibly loud, clearly startling the crowd as much as many of the mares.

I've been at the start of marathons and fun runs where the field is so large it takes twenty minutes to cross the start line; in my expectant state, the few seconds it took the mares in front to pull away seemed like an eternity; Bryony clearly felt the same and in her eagerness took a step forward almost colliding with the rear of the chariot in front and I pulled hard on the reins giving her a lash to the top of the buttocks; it was only a second's pause and then I let her go shaking the reins and lashing her to the trot as a gap opened up to our left. We were a fraction behind Fawn but did have the advantage of the inside track as when we reached the gate if we could hold this position.

The gap widened and I drove Bryony on, whipping her to the canter and matching Fawn's pace. The-Cat-That-Got-the-Cream was out ahead and Eye Candy not far behind. There was another mare too, a young blonde with a pretty female knight; neither of whom looked old enough for this event though I knew mares and knights had to be at least eighteen. She was straining in harness, her knight clearly allowing her to run as she chose and I could see her starting to pull into the lead.

The commentator announced her as 'Pretty Little Thing' and confirmed to me that this was her first race. They were once called 'Ponies' apparently, girls on their first race, Bryony had told me though all the competitors were 'mares' now. Pretty Little Thing would, no doubt, soon tire but her early enthusiasm had created space that allowed me to work up the field matching Fawn's pace. Bryony clearly wanted to gain more ground but I reined her back, using the whip hard to reinforce the command and she relented though a flare of tension in her shoulders told me she was not happy about my tactics.

We passed Salty Petals who I recognised as the barmaid from the Mare in Hand and I couldn't help a sideways glance to enjoy the bounce of her rather full breasts despite the firm support of her girdle and the straps that tried to restrain them; she was wearing clip on bells and these bounced wildly on her nipple's.

A subtle change in Bryony's pace made me look away and I realised the distraction had made me draw her too far to the right allowing Fawn to pull half a length ahead. At least one of us was focussed ! I let her run until we were level with Fawn then gently pulled her back.

Ten yards ahead, Pretty Little Thing was first out of the gate with Eye Candy just behind and Pussy ('The-Cat...') in third place. Brazen and Golden Girl were next and then Fawn level with us.

We went through the gate in fifth place and I pulled Bryony back to a lazy trot as we headed down towards the village green; she had five miles to run and while I needed her to keep up a good pace, I didn't want her tiring.

Ahead Eye Candy overtook Pretty Little thing as they turned onto the road that ran round the village green and I could sense Bryony wanting to move with them, probably keen to take on Brazen. The road was slightly downhill and I thought it might be good for morale to let her gain a little ground especially as Fawn was close behind.

I took her to the canter and we almost flew past Golden Girl and were pushing hard on Brazen half way round the green when Fawn went past just in front of the pub. Arch rival she may be but, God, she was hot; even more determined than the supreme athlete I'd seen the woods a couple of months before; those long legs stretching out, taut buttocks now surmounted by a streaming blonde tail, her nipple bells bouncing on the nipple bridle as she lengthened her stride. She took Brazen and then pulled in forcing the brunette to slow and us with her. It took only a moment for us to pull out but Bryony had to check her stride and we lost a few yards unnecessarily before passing Brazen. I thought the brunette scowled as we passed but then it can be hard to read a girl's expression when she's bitted and bridled.

Bryony seemed happier though, slackening her pace as we crept up on Pretty Little Thing on the climb at the far end of the green. I could see the blonde's knight using the whip quite harshly but the climb through the field had taken its toll on the young mare and I could see she was breathing hard. We passed her relatively easily despite the obvious effort she was putting in but at least she would have bragging rights of being the first out of the gate for her first race. Her name really was quite apt, she was a lovely looking girl; pouting lips, white teeth tight on the bit, green eyes and some lovely gentle curves; if she didn't make it in racing she was going to make a fabulous dressage pony and, decked out in full racing harness complete with tail, she was easily a match for the Equus models.

Despite my best efforts, I couldn't help looking back to get a final view of her lovely young body straining in the tightly strapped green leather racing harness with its gold buckles; the harness was very brief and breast rings gave her little mounds no support at all. She certainly wasn't holding back on style; her nipple bells jingled on dressage style piercings (illegal under racing rules - God, I was becoming to involved in this) ; her bare sex looked newly shaved and I was fairly sure she had a bell between her legs too (surely that was illegal too !). The look of determination in her eyes was delicious and when she fixed her gaze on mine, I almost felt guilty for leaving her behind.

As we turned back onto the top road of the green I caught sight of Golden Girl overtaking Brazen from the corner of my eye. Up ahead, Eye Candy was setting a grueling pace which Fawn was attempting to match and the pair showed no sign of slacking as they passed through the cheering crowd that had followed the competitors down from the Tourney Field. Bryony clearly wanted to join the leaders but I held her back using the whip to the top of her buttocks to reinforce the tug on the reins that held her to a slow canter so the leading pair slowly pulled away from us.

The route lead out of the village, down a long curving road that passed close to Bryony's farm leveling out for almost half a mile before it started to climb again and I settled back to enjoy the race and the lovely redhead in front of me taking in the swish of her tail, the clip-clop of her boots and the tinkling of her nipple bells. She tried several times to close the gap separating us from Eye Candy and Fawn but I was firm despite the slowly increasing distance between us and the two leaders who were still, I thought, setting themselves too swift a pace as they jockeyed for the lead. I reminded myself we were nearing a mile and a half in and there were almost four more to go.

Bryony's strength lay in her tenacity and endurance; I didn't want her to end up like Pretty Little Thing.

About ten yards behind us Golden Girl was settling into a pace that matched ours and I kept an eye on her knowing that if she made her move, Bryony would want to go with her. However, I guessed that her older knight might have a degree of experience and know how to play the long game too.

The valley floor was wooded and quite cool considering the heat up on the Tourney Field.

There were few spectators on this section of the course but a few enthusiasts had made their way down through the trees and a couple of groups were picnicking be the roadside as we trotted past including an S&M couple with her kneeling up in chains wearing nothing but a collar and displaying a lovely pair of breasts while he reclined on a blanket fully clothed with a beer. If it hadn't been so shaded, it might have been a good spot for photographers as the course was straight and the mares were likely to be trotting lazily along this section. There were a few men with cameras, however, (only men) and some fairly intrusive lenses too all mounted on tripods. My friends who are into this stuff (photography, I mean) tell me that cameras can virtually see in the dark these days and, when I looked afterwards I found some pretty stunning shots of Bryony labouring in harness; her expression making it clear what she thought of being held back. I also found some shots of Pretty Little Thing and her image went viral for a while on all kinds of kinky Tumblr and Pinterest sites; one pony girl site voted her 'stablemate of the month' five months running.

Though relatively flat compared to much of the course, the valley road was gently undulating and I was fairly sure that when we climbed we made ground on the leaders, losing it slightly on the downhill sections and, by the time we were half way along the valley I realised we were slowly gaining ground.

It was when the road began to climb more steadily that Fawn made her move. Eye Candy was clearly tiring, dropping back so that she was only thirty yards ahead. Fawn on the other hand still looked fresh, hitting into the hill at a canter until she passed the pink maned mare and even then not slowing.

The blonde was clearly pulling away from us and Bryony obviously yearned to follow but I still wouldn't let her.

We took Eye Candy about half way up, the perky little mare was panting hard and climbing at little more than a walk, her knight allowing her a little respite in view of the grueling climb.

Golden Girl came with us but made no move to pass, taking Eye Candy after us but making no further attempt to move up the field.

By the time we reached the crest of the hill, Fawn was out of sight.

I saw Bryony sag, the empty road ahead must have felt soul-destroying after effort of the climb; even though she'd done it well, digging in and driving, the leather harness and traces creaking with the strain of pulling an eighty kilo male up a steep slope with her hands tied and what was to all intents and purposes, a gag in her mouth.

Her skin glistened with sweat and her shoulders heaved as she gasped in deep breaths.

I gave her a little gentle encouragement to keep her recovery active while she got her breath back and then, a few hundred yards on, with the road climbing gently forced her to the canter.

I think she was a little surprised though we had discussed this tactic. I had to use the whip to make her stretch her tired legs hoping that six weeks locked in leg weights had built up her stamina.

Some fifteen minutes later we crested the rise that lead us back into the village. Golden Girl had dropped back about twenty yards but was still hanging on to us. I could see the ford at the bottom of the short slope. A crowd was gathered around the water; if there's one thing move exhilarating than watching a pony girl at full gallop, it's watching one splash through water at full gallop. We needed momentum and Bryony knew it; I felt her surge forward and held tightly as we gathered pace. This was a dangerous part, the hill was very steep; too fast and my weight in the gig would overtake her making us crash; too slow and we'd be dragged to a halt in the water like we had while training. The river was still a little high and I knew there had been talk of changing the course.

At least there was no chance of us being swept away today.

I let her go, my hand hovering over the brake as we gathered speed and then just checking our descent as we neared the bottom. I got this almost right but the tension in the traces showed that perhaps I'd slowed us just a little too much.

We could discuss it later and, I felt sure we would along with all the other decisions I'd made along the way but (coaching hat on here), I was in charge and this was not time to worry about what had happened. Bryony surged forward with enthusiasm; probably with the thought of cold water on her hot, sweating body. I let her go but then pulled the reins reminding her to judge her pace; so she would cross the little stream in two steps without loosing momentum; she judged it perfectly, stepping out with her right foot and plunging it in as deep as she dared then launching forward to plant the toe of her left boot as near to the other side as possible. Cold water splashed up over me and the gig lurched but we sped through, Bryony pulling us free of the water with almost no difficulty.

I was dimly aware of cheering from the assembled crowd and camera lenses focussed like a hungry press pack on a fallen celebrity, however, there was not time to savour this triumph as the road began to climb again almost as steeply as the slope we'd just run down; this was the hardest section of the course and I didn't want her winded; she tried, of course; with Fawn still somewhere ahead and the exhilaration of fording the stream, to take it too fast and I pulled hard on the reins to slow her to a more sustainable pace and in a few yards she reluctantly slowed though I could see the tension in her body at being thwarted; I delivered a stinging reminder to her bottom with the whip of the need to obey me.

That seemed to do the trick and she settled into a steady climb.

The hill was a popular spot for spectators, shaded by trees from the sun and a place where the mares went past slowly enough to be enjoyed fully. It was also a short walk from the Tourney Field and the Mare in Hand. Many of those watching carried cameras, and those that didn't used their smartphones. I wondered again how this annual race remained any sort of secret at all.

A number held pints too and I rather envied them until I remembered how hot and thirsty Bryony would be toiling up the hill with the bit in her mouth. I'm not a completely heartless bastard.

We were about half way up the hill when it became really steep and Bryony slowed to a crawl; at this point it was largely survival and my lovely redheaded pony had the tenacity to pull through. We moved so slowly at one stage, that a man held out his drink to me offering me a sip. Though I was tempted, I politely declined and, moment later judged it was time to make Bryony's training pay off.

A sharp flick of the whip produced an angry growl but we did gather speed and with a cheer behind us suggesting Golden Girl had just split the ford and the slope leveling out a little Bryony moved to something resembling a jog or 'lazy trot' as the aficionados called it. I could see her shoulders heaving again as if her chest was fit to burst but I didn't spare the whip; this was the place to make up valuable seconds. This sort of exercise was something I needed to introduce onto my conventional training regimes.

By the time we reached the top of the hill poor Bryony resembled a dressage pony, her buttocks and thighs decorated dozens of red marks though her skin she was so flushed with exertion that it was almost impossible to see them; but our tactics had worked because there; no more than two hundred meters ahead on the far side of the village green was Fawn.

Even from this distance I could tell she was tired; she was a fantastic runner but the pony race required more than just long legs.

Bryony was panting so hard around the bit I could hear it and could see her shoulders rising and falling; the sweat was literally running off her body in rivers, her harness stained and her tail dripping but the sight of Fawn seemed to give her a second wind, or perhaps a third. She surged forward and I allowed this; giving her free rein for about fifty meters before gently curbing her enthusiasm. She bridled but I held firm; drawing even harder on the reins than should have been necessary and shouting 'Whoa !' to emphasise the need to conserve her strength.

The worst of the course was over but we still had nearly three quarters of a mile to go along the green and then out on 'the loop' and then back to the finishing post at the top of the Tourney Field.

I think Fawn might have heard me shouting or perhaps it was the cheers of the crowd because for a few moments, she did seem to pick up her pace, lifting her tired legs and stretching her stride but then I noticed her slow again though I couldn't tell if this was exhaustion or simply her driver holding her in check before the final pull.

We'd gained perhaps twenty or thirty meters with Bryony's little surge and I sensed her frustration at being held back from the bunch of her shoulder muscles and the tension in her legs. However, after a few moments she seemed to relax, content to trot on at the slower pace, finally allowed to get her breath back.

I guessed the muscles in her legs must be burning from the effort she had put in and the last stage of the course was going to be a real test of stamina and determination. I knew Bryony had it; I just didn't know if Fawn did too.

For me, I must say it was wonderful; of all the moments in my crash course introduction to pony girl racing, the next ten minutes or so were the most memorable; perhaps it was because the end was in sight and Fawn was clearly tired and we were slowly gaining ground or perhaps it was that Bryony had trained hard and performed brilliantly or perhaps it was because I was sitting in a gig somewhere in the Devonshire countryside, driving a real live and very beautiful red-headed pony girl in full harness listening to the jingle of her nipple bells.


Chapter 12

As we left the green I knew we had a little under half a mile to go. We were no more than fifty yards behind and Fawn showed no response to our approach. All that remained was a gentle climb, 'the loop' up to the Tourney Field and then the final dash to the finish line. I was aware that, if it came to a straight sprint, even in her tired state, Fawn could probably carry the day. If we were going to pass her, it had to be just at the right moment and with enough pace that she wouldn't have time to respond.

I saw Claire glance back, perhaps surprised at how close we were and watched her shake Fawn's reins delivering a couple of sharp licks of the whip. The blonde increased her pace a little but not by much.

Bryony saw this and her response was immediate; she surged forward and I pulled hard on her reins to keep her in check. I was willing to risk a hundred meters of open competition but ideally, I wanted less.

In a few minutes we were thirty meters behind and then twenty. Fawn was either really tired or just trying to draw us on so she could pull away and leave us standing as we entered the Tourney Field. After what Bryony had told, me, I wouldn't put anything past her; the girl had style and, again, I could imagine her as a dressage mare.

*

I could hear the blonde's nipple bells and the wheels of her gig.

Bryony was up for the challenge and I was keeping her on a tight rein.

Ten meters.

We rounded the final bend; the gate to the field was dead ahead and the finish line was about two hundred yards away. Crowds lined the final straight.

Claire glanced back and shook the reins; Fawn increased her pace.

I let Bryony match it.

She so wanted to take the blonde but I held her back.

At one hundred meters the clip-clop of boots and roar of tires vanished in the grass of the field.

We were about eight meters apart.

Claire glanced back and smiled, turning back and continuing to encourage Fawn to run for home.

I hit Bryony with the whip. I single blow across the buttocks, no shout and I released the reins.

Bryony surged forward gaining ground with every step.

Seven meters...six...

We were about meters out when we drew level and I let Bryony have another slap of the whip. I wanted her to know that it was now or never.

Fawn glanced across and increased her pace to match us.

I could see the slight look of surprise on Claire's face and saw her use the whip leaving a long red weal across Fawn's tight, toned buttocks. The fact it was delivered in haste was evidenced by the fact that the whip snagged in Fawn's tail and tore out a tangle of blonde hairs.

At twenty meters, they were half a pace ahead, at ten we were level.

Beside me, Claire whipped Fawn mercilessly thrashing the mare's buttocks and thighs with no thought to placement.

Bryony got one more; a stinging blow across the shoulders, so hard it tore a wound in her skin drawing bright red blood in a line between the shoulder straps of her harness as it urged her to lunge forward like a sprinter hurling herself at the line.

I felt the gig surge as she drew it with her.

It was enough.

Bryony took the tape across her breasts hauling me across the line mere inches ahead of Claire.

We had done it; Bryony had done it; though I like to think I was of some help.

I pulled hard on the brake and the reins as Bryony slowed and then collapsed to her knees still harnessed between the shafts. Her breath was coming in great gasps, her chest heaving. Her body was running with sweat, hair shining with it, wet from root to tip, the leather of her harness soaked, tail dripping.

She couldn't talk, not just because of the bridle or even how breathless she was.

She was crying too.

I knelt beside her and hugged her feeling the heat of her body and the sweat soaking into my shirt. Pulling her head to me, I kissed her hair and stroked it.

'Shang you.' She managed to gasp around the bit.

Then she turned her head up towards me and kissed me on the mouth with a passion I've never before experienced.

If there'd been any chance to do so, I'd have thrown her down then and there and fucked her senseless. I doubt it would have taken long.

As I held her, I was aware that Cassie and Tom by my side, Tom unclipping Bryony's harness from the traces and shafts.

When she was free I helped her to her feet; her legs were shaking so much, she could barely stand and Tom and I had to support her. I suggested we get her out of the harness and sleeve but she refused.

'Nnngg. Shtay in id undil we ged zhe drophy.' She told me around the bridle shaking her head for emphasis, saliva spraying as she spoke and her soaked hair flicking round and spraying us with sweat.

'At least let me take the bridle out and have something to drink.'

'Yesh.' She nodded. 'Good !' It was almost as if she was drunk.

I flipped out the bridle and Tom held a bottle of sports energy drink to her lips.

Bryony drank thirstily, sucking the bottle dry between breaths.

'Thank you. That's much better.' She almost convinced us and then she staggered and sagged between Tom and I, shivering violently and vomiting half of the liquid she'd just drunk.

'Come on.' I said, as we more or less dragged her by the arms trying to get her out of the way of Golden Girl as she crossed the line in third place. 'Let's get her into the sunshine to warm up. Do you have anything to wrap her up in.'

Someone produced a picnic blanket and we sat Bryony in a patch of sunshine with her knees pulled up wrapped in the blanket and leaning back into my arms.

'At least let me take the single sleeve off.'

'Not gonna happen.' Bryony shook her head again emphatically covering me in another shower of sweat. Her teeth were still chattering. It's not an uncommon reaction to see athletes do this at the end of endurance races and I knew it would pass but it did upset me to see her like it especially, given all our preparations. I should have prepared her for it but then what could I say ? 'You'll feel like shit afterwards...' It's not a good motivator. I sat holding her in my arms watching as Eye Candy crossed the line fourth some ten minutes behind us.

When that bout of cheering settled I became aware of shouting, a commotion a few yards down the field.

'Get a fucking grip you temperamental bitch !'

The shout was accompanied by the crack of a whip and I peered round a line of spectators to see Fawn, still in harness, shaking her head and stamping her feet and cursing through her bridle. Claire was using the whip to the top of the blonde's buttocks and pulling on her reins as she tried to control the angry mare.

'Stop it !' Claire targeted the top of Fawn's buttocks again and the mare twisted in her harness as if trying to shake herself free. I was tempted to intervene and, if Bryony had been in a fit state to leave, I probably would have.

It took a while but eventually, the blonde mare calmed down and stood sobbing dejectedly.

I watched Claire pull in the reins again. 'Back up you prissy blonde slut !'

She delivered a couple of fierce 'reminders' to the top of Fawn's buttocks one of which drew blood and this seemed to be enough to bring the blonde under control. With obvious reluctance Fawn took a step back ward and then another.

'Who says you can't make a racing mare back up.' Tom said with a faint smile.

Claire looked back over her shoulder and used the reins to guide her chariot towards us.

'Well done !' She held out a hand to me and I took it. She had a powerful grip; most wheelchair athletes have. Then she leaned down awkwardly and gave Bryony and hug of sorts. 'Great performance, Sticky.'

'Thanks.' Bryony looked up holding onto Clair's arms as she tried to stop her teeth chattering.

'The first round's on us.' Claire told us. 'Well, me.' She looked towards Fawn standing stiffly between the shafts, rocking from foot to foot. 'I don't think Fawn's quite ready to be gracious in defeat yet.'

'Thank you.' I stood and gave Claire a hug, noting how she was strapped into the chariot like a wheelchair athlete, on her knees. Then I stood back as she flicked the whip and shook the reins, driving Fawn across the Tourney Field away from where the crowd was starting to gravitate to towards the dressage arena.

We missed Rubber Dolly's performance, Bryony still wasn't up to moving so we sat and watched the later runners of the Mare's Race coming in; Pretty Little Thing bringing up the rear and limping badly. There weren't many to see her personal triumph but I gave a cheer and was rewarded by the most dazzling of smiles as the pretty blonde gratefully stopped to catch her breath.

Bryony nestled her head against my shoulder.

'Come on.' She said. 'Put my bit back in and let's to watch Barbie.'

By the time we made it to the bottom of the field, Miss Carter/Rubber Dolly was being driven out of the dressage arena. The teacher and part time ultra-hot dressage pony (I know) looked almost as perfect as she had done in Tom's yard though I detected a very slight tremor in her legs as she trotted elegantly, head held high and breasts thrust out. Her pale skin shone with sweat and her back, buttocks and flanks were a mass of fresh angry looking red welts. Just as the time I'd seen her in action in Tom's yard, she was way more than half naked, the girdle that attached her to the chariot her only slight modesty, this one was obviously heavy-duty black rubber as were the dressage boots that came up to her knees; other than that, she wore her dressage harness and the full face rubber hood although this was now topped with a bridle sporting a tall black head-dress set on a 'bridle' of sorts although, of course it had no reins just a huge black rubber bit that held her jaw wide and made her drool incessantly. The head-dress, her 'favour' took the form of a stylised tree bearing a crop of gemstones that danced and sparkled in the sunlight; she wore nipple bells too, dulled to black to match the rubber of her costume. She looked magnificent as she trotted past her nipple bells jingling and the crowd cheering.

Barbie was up next and if Rubber Dolly lived up to the village legends about a dryad crossing into the mortal realm, Barbie was the beautiful doll come to life. Slightly taller than Rubber Dolly she entered the arena at a trot taking a cut of the whip to her buttocks as she passed her rival though neither girl could have known how close they passed as both were hooded. The two 'knights' nodded in salute.

Barbie's rig, at least her hood, girdle and boots were in white leather that shone in the sunlight. The straps that restrained her and the laces of the boots and hood were in purple and gold and her blonde mane cascaded behind her, plaited with ribbons to match; her bridle supported a single white ostrich feather fluttering above a gold disc on her forehead. Dressage is all about show and Barbie was the perfect show-pony even down to her bit which was clearly a ball gag, a crowd-pleaser, this huge purple ball stretched her jaw as extremely as the harness restrained her arms tightly behind her and the girdle narrowed her waist to an almost impossible looking hour-glass. Her huge breasts jutted in front of her, nipple bells swinging; these weren't the little round cat-toys like Bryony and the racing mares wore on their nipples, these were proper bells three inches across with a clapper swinging inside them that rung like cowbells as she trotted into the arena on her toes, forced to there by the most gorgeous pair of pony boots I'd ever seen; in thigh high white leather.

The dressage arena was a large rectangular area of grass with six upright posts in the centre. The final run of the day had attracted quite a crowd, more, I thought, than had lined the finish of the race and they stood three to four deep watching expectantly as Charles drove round the perimeter to give all the spectators the full benefit of his gorgeous mare in harness.

Dressage is done to music, a sort of pony dance and, while it shares a lot of features with the obstacle race in the field competition it provides way more opportunity for expression; a sort of bondage pony ballet. Barbie was performing to the Copelia which I'd googled to discover was about a doll who came to life in a small village and from the first bars she had the crowd's full attention lifting her leg gracefully and sinuously into the air and, in the process, giving a large section of the crowd including her daughter who stood beside us, a very clear view of her clit ring and it's attached rein nestled in a beautifully sculpted pink rose. Then she lowered her leg slowly, completely balanced between the shafts and suddenly struck out in a rising trot that saw her bring her knees up to the height of her huge breasts.

She was perfectly upright as she crossed the arena and then reversed before 'cascading' through the six uprights, still at the trot; she paused for a moment marking time, hips swaying, and then peeled away in a 'dressage' canter which was essentially skipping before taking the posts at the gallop; her shoulder seeming to brush past each one such was the tightness of her line.

After that there was some high kicking timed to the music and the whip and another run at the posts; then she dropped to a crouch spreading her thighs and arching her body in a display which would have been the envy of any limbo dancer and ensured every member of the crowd had seen her piercing in detail.

Finally, she took the poles backwards before galloping down the field to come to a perfect stop before the judges.

We waited nearly fifteen minutes for the judges' verdict during which Charles drove Barbie out of the dressage arena and 'parked' his chariot beside Rubber Dolly and Reuben; the two ponies standing stock still side by side while the judges conferred. It was a beautiful sight, these two perfect mares blonde and brunette, black and white standing obediently on their toes, blind and helpless for the pleasure of the crowd who pressed closely around them.

It wasn't too surprising that a few of the more adventurous tried their luck, fingers brushing flesh and even hands setting nipple bells swinging. Despite such liberties being taken, both girls remained statue-like, the glares of their knights and the occasional flick of one of the knights' whip ensuring that liberties were not taken too far.

A huge cheer that went up when Barbie was declared the winner and, realising how close it had been, I wished I'd seen Miss Carter in action. I did, however, have the pleasure of watching the two dressage mares trotting side by side towards the presentation stage followed by the crowd and the remaining knights and mares.

Dirty Dancer won Queen of the Field while Cassie came third overall but seemed pleased with second place in obstacle race.

'You're going to have to lose some weight.' She chided Tom as he helped her down from the stage with her rosette clipped to her left nipple bell. 'There's no way I can do well in the sprints with you on board. Perhaps mum's right and I should trade you in for a lighter model.'

'You say that now...' He said, patting her on the rump but size is an advantage in some areas.

Cassie giggled and pressed herself against him.

Bryony had recovered enough to climb onto the stage and, like Barbie, she received the red rosette, the head judge clipping to her nipple bridle as she stood still fully bridled and in harnessed. I had to accept the trophy as my lovely mare didn't appear to have a free hand with which to receive it. There was a distinct absence of anyone to take credit for second place but Golden Girl accepted her third place rosette with good grace and this seemed popular result judging from the cheers, applause and general shaking of nipple bells that accompanied her presentation.

After the prize-giving, the contestants and spectators began to disperse, mostly drifting towards the pub, some with more enthusiasm than others. With Bryony in tow and Cassie and Tom at our side, we followed them. Business was brisk and already there were people spilling out onto the green, drinks in hand, a mixture of spectators and contestants, mares still in full harness and bridles; some of them, like Bryony still sleeved or cuffed.

The sign above the door had changed; the'Mare in Hand' was one of the two-legged variety and, I noticed, a redhead. I wondered if there were at least two other signs sitting in the cellar waiting their turn; one, perhaps, depicting a leggy blonde and the other a brunette; perhaps there was even a pot of pink paint incase Eye Candy had won.

As we entered, I passed Miss Carter better known this afternoon as Rubber Dolly, runner up in the dressage contest; she had traded her full face hood for a Gwen style hood, still in black rubber, of course, and her arms also still encased in rubber were folded more comfortably behind her back more in the style of a field mare. She still wore her black favour and, I spotted as we passed, she was now sporting a tail; for some reason I felt the urge to run my fingers through it; and she turned to gave me saucy wink before following her knight and master out onto the green guided by the leash that was clearly attached to her clit piercing. It took all my willpower not to slap her on the bottom as she went.

Inside, Bryony pressed herself close to me and I shouldered my way to the bar; as a 'knight' I found a certain willingness among spectators in the crush to allow me through in a way that was almost unheard of in an English pub though I think this might have been to allow them to close ranks again as I passed and press themselves against the completely helpless and almost naked redhead I had in tow. I ordered a couple of pints watching Tom pocket just over a hundred quid for his bet on Byrony and wished I'd bet more too. He'd bet each way on Cassie too though that little windfall wasn't going to allow him to retire. I took out my wallet not expecting to pocket much of my thirty quid but when I came to pay for my drink but the landlord waved me away pointing across the bar and I turned to see Claire sitting in one corner in her chair with Fawn kneeling at her feet.

I'd assumed they'd gone home with Fawn in a sulk or perhaps to plan for next year.

I made the reverse trip, Bryony sticking close and went over to thank our clearly sporting rivals.

Claire raised a half drunk pint glass; an empty one sat beside it. 'To the winners.' She said. Then added with a smile. 'Though we will beat you next year.'

I tapped my glass against hers. 'May the best mare win.'

She looked down at Fawn who appeared the picture of dejection. 'Come on Helen.'

The blonde mare was still harnessed and sleeved and wore her bridle and, when she looked up, I could see she was still bitted too. She had clearly been crying giving her blue eyes a watery hint.

'Well done, Shir.' She said with as much grace as she could muster and a decent dose of humility. She looked at Bryony. 'Well done, Mishtresh.'

Bryony detached herself from me for a moment and squatted down, nuzzling her cheek against the kneeling blonde's then she stood and reattached herself to me.

'Come on.' I said taking a swallow from my glass. 'Let's go and find Cassie.'

'Dring, please, Mashter.' She said.

'What ?...Oh.' I held her drink to her lips and she took a sip. 'Oh, that'sh good.'

'I can release you if you want me to.'

'No.' She shook her head forcefully. Then she leant in and whispered. 'Not pony now, Shticky ish Mashter'sh liddle shlave shlut now. You have to keeb Shticky in bondage. Shtricd bondage.'

'If you say so.' I grinned.

'Yesh, Mashter.' She giggled. 'Don'd worry, we don'd have to shtay long. Then you can tagge your liddle Shticky home and vugg her shenshlesh.'

She'd only had a couple of sips so I knew she wasn't intoxicated; I guessed it was nervous exhaustion and a lot of intensely bridled lust.

We went out into the garden passing a line of girls, Eye Candy and Pretty Little Thing among them taking part in a race to see who could down a pint quickest while wearing a bridle; like most of these 'boat race' type events, more beer was spilt than was drunk but I suspected all six girls would have plenty of offers to have their bodies licked clean later and, from what I knew of the village, guessed that some of them might even be planning to do this to each other.

We found Cassie kneeling in front of Tom who was being congratulated on winning the 'obstacle course' by a knight and (field) mare I didn't recognise. Tom had released Cassie's hands from the back of her girdle and taken out her bit but her hands were still in the bondage sleeves. This appeared to be an arrangement she enjoyed. She held a pint glass between the flippers her hands had become and when she spotted Bryony she downed the last mouth full and jumped to her feet.

'Sticky !' She hugged Bryony squeezing her and kissing her on the lips. At this moment, I really didn't mind though I did look away; there was plenty to distract me including the arrival of Barbie.


Chapter 13

The blonde dressage mare had clearly been somewhere to change and for a makeover after removing her hood. Her hair was primped and her make up perfect, lips and eyelids a purple to match her rig. Her hood might be gone but her neck was now encircled by a surprisingly strict posture collar in white leather and she still wore her bridle and white plumes; she was still 'bitted' too, the purple ball gag forcing her mouth incredibly wide, purple glossed lips stretched intensely around it. She was no longer restrained in the dressage harness, it had been replaced by a shiny single sleeve in purple with white straps and gold buckles, there was no doubt her elbows were touching. I was pleased to see the thigh high pony boots in still in place keeping her very much in her toes; they looked as if they'd had a quick polish. Like Rubber Dolly, she wore a tail too; another 'village tradition' I assumed or, perhaps dressage mares didn't want to miss the opportunity to go to the pub in wearing a butt plug like any other mare. She wore no harness so, other than the boots and the bondage she was gloriously naked, though I was glad to see she was still wearing her nipple bells; I could hear them jangling as she walked, following 'Sir Charles' who held the leash that was clipped to her clit ring.

Dressage was all about the showmanship so I supposed it was expected that dressage mares should want to hog the lime light. She might be twenty years older than some of the racing mares but she was immediately the centre of attention even in a crowd of seminaked and harnessed women.

When I looked back, Cassie still had her arms around Bryony but she was looking at Barbie with a frown on her face.

'Cassh !' I heard Bryony say.

'Oh, alright !' Cassie tossed her head petulantly and, disengaging herself from Bryony, walked towards her mother.

They stopped in front of each other, Charles looking way more nervous than a man leading a beautiful leashed and submissive woman had any right to. It was almost as if the entire village held its breath.

'Well done, Sir.' Cassie said to Charles.

'Thank you.'

'Well done, Barbie.' The blonde said, looking directly at her mother.

Having delivered her piece, I though Cassie was about to turn on her heel but then she took a step forward and wrapped her leather sleeved arms around her mother. Helpless to resist or to respond, Barbie looked rather stunned for a moment but then she leant forward pressing herself against her daughter and touching her cheek on Cassie's.

The village released it's collective breath and there was even a small ripple of applause.

'May I ?' Cassie reached out towards her mother's leash and, after a brief pause, Charles passed it over, looping it around Cassie's wrist.

'Well done, Charles.' Tom strode over and shook his hand. 'Barb.' He nodded to the slightly perplexed looking blonde as her daughter lead her over to the side of the garden for what I can only assume was a 'daughter-mother' chat or, given that Barbie was very securely gagged, perhaps more of a lecture.

A string of mares came to congratulate Bryony which largely seemed to be an excuse to fondle her rosette and thus play with her nipple bridle. I'd almost got used to the idea of strange women playing fast and loose with my girlfriend's nipples (and any other parts of her anatomy they chose) but, on this occasion a number of them congratulated me too; including Pretty Little Thing, whose gushing praise for my training of 'Sticky Fingers' and unrestrained thanks for my cheer as she crossed the line lead even Bryony to raise an eyebrow. My interest was, of course, purely professional, but I have to admit that, were Bryony not to need my services next year, I was certainly willing to offer them to this lovely pert and clearly very determined little blonde.

As a string of nubile young women in various states of undress and restraint pressed their bodies against me I got the opportunity to put a few faces to names. (My cock was still firmly restrained so there wasn't much else I could do to take my mind off it).

I thus got to meet 'Saucy Peach' (redhead field mare with a nasal piercing), 'Fussy Duck' (very sexy blonde field mare with a big nose and a nervous laugh), 'Dewy Petals' (slender brunette racing mare who gave me a very intimate thank you) and 'The Pink Pussycat' who was called 'Pee-Pee' (nothing to do with Golden Girl) who had bright pink hair like Eye Candy. 'The Cat That Got The Cream' came to pay her respects too looking rather resentful to be still in harness and lead round on a leash by the 'Loose Goose' or, as she was this year 'Lady Loosey'. I found out that 'The Cream' or 'Whipped Cream' to give her the full glory of her pony name was absent this year because she was in Venezuela on a gap year.

I also had the pleasure of meeting 'Dirty Dancer' who I recalled had rather enjoyed herself playing with Rubber Dolly's outfit on our last night in the pub. She was a very pretty latino looking girl with lovely dark eyes; I didn't have the opportunity to find out how she'd ended up in a rural Devon village, the girls' school, I assumed. However, she wasn't going to be fiddling with anything today; her knight had very sensibly kept the lovely brunette tightly strapped in her field harness and, as a 'fully fitted out' mare, he was keeping her in check with a leash through her clit piercing.

There was a lot of drinking and I managed to get a second pint in leaving Bryony with her entourage of admirers briefly as I went to the bar. Inside the pub, I was pleased to see that Fawn seemed to have recovered a little of her spirits and was sitting in Claire's lap knocking back what looked like a neat scotch and apparently enjoying a little nipple play. It was probably just as well I'd left Bryony behind because I met Miss Carter again and this time gave into the urge to slap her hard on the bottom. I met Honey Pot too or rather she met me and, without Bryony's nipples to distract her, she made an instant grab for my cock giving it a squeeze.

'She still has you locked away then.' She laughed then proceeded to wrap her arms round my neck and attempt to push her tongue down my throat.

My cock responded appropriately and got another squeeze for its pains. 'I see she has you well trained.' Honey Pot said with a smile taking my pint and helping herself to a healthy swallow. 'Thanks.' She said with a grin. 'By the way, you do know that Bryony takes a size ten don't you.'

I opened my mouth to speak but shut it again because I couldn't think on an appropriate response.

'Though that is confidential.' Honey told me. 'As far as I'm aware no man has ever proved it if you know what I mean.'

She gave me a peck on the cheek and vanished and I returned to the beer garden with a half full glass.

As I emerged, I was greeted by a drunken chorus of 'Barbie Girl' and found mother and daughter down on their knees taking part in another 'mares' drinking game. They were both crouched over what I can only describe as dog-bowls filled with what I assumed to be beer (there was a lot of it so I hoped it wasn't champagne for both their sakes); both were lapping furiously to the encouragement of the surrounding crowd. Barbie was still very much in bondage, arms sleeved and with her bare pussy and it's shining ring very much on display where her blonde tail had somehow ended up draped over her buttocks; I gathered this was something to do with the fact that Charles was standing behind her holding her leash, still attached to her clit ring. It also revealed that her clit wasn't the only part of her sex that was pierced (she'd been some distance away in the dressage field); she had eight labial rings too, at that moment locked together with a pin through them and, from the way her sex bulged, it was fairly obvious something large was locked inside. Perhaps this was why dressage ponies always seemed to have a smile on their faces. Cassie was crouched beside her on all fours facing me and presumably giving a similar show (minus the piercings) to the crowd behind her.

Tom gave me a knowing wink and raised his glass to mine, telling me that Cassie had agreed to have her clit pierced if she lost. I was about to ask him what would happen if Cassie won; I certainly hoped she wouldn't be expected to hang up her bridle and retire, but at that moment Bryony suddenly pressed herself against me with an urgency that made my cock stir.

'I've been looging for you, Mashter.' She said with a slightly accusatory tone or perhaps it was the effect of the bit still between her teeth.

'I went to get a drink.' I told her holding my pint to her lips. 'I thought you'd enjoy a bit of time with your admirers.'

'A knighd ish shuppozed to loog after hish mare.' She told me looking up at me with what I can only describe as hunger in her blue eyes.

'I'm sorry.' I said. I genuinely was. I hadn't meant it as a challenge. 'Drink ?'

'You can'd ged round me thad easily.' She said though she gratefully accepted a sip around her bit.

'And how can I get round you ?'

'Well, Mashter, I'd give almosht anyshing to have your cogg inshide me righd now.'

'Anything ?' I looked down at Barbie, sliding my hand between my own mare's legs.

She was soaking wet.

'Does Mashter wand to mage me a dresshage mare ?' She clearly knew what I was thinking.

'Might be fun.' I said playing with her clit.

'I'm sho horny, I'd led Dom hammer a hod rivid through if id meand you'd shag me righd now.' She looked at me with an urgent intensity. 'Bud if you don'd dage your hand ovv my clid I'm gonna cum in frond of all theze people.'

Reluctantly I slid my hand out of her wet pussy.

'Tage me home and vugg me.' She said. 'Now !'

I thought I was supposed to be the master and her the slave but I didn't argue.

It was another kitchen table moment when we finally made it back to the house. Bryony still resolutely in bondage, booted and bridled. My first full pony fuck if you include the tail.

'It'sh in the drawer.' Bryony gestured with her head as I virtually forced myself on her the moment we entered the house.

'You've had it here all along.' I almost screamed at her. 'You are going to get so spanked !'

'Yesh, Mashter !' She said with obvious enthusiasm.

I pulled out the key and fumbled with the chastity belt barely able to get it off my rampant cock then I shoved myself inside her feeling her squirm underneath me, howling and writhing as I pounded away at her, to the sound her tail plug thumping against the table with every thrust.

She climaxed just before me, screaming as she came and then I wasn't aware of anything as my cock erupted inside her and pleasure overwhelmed me.

When I opened my eyes, Bryony was lying beneath me, eyes glazed.

'Bedroom !' She gasped then as I climbed off her. 'And will you dake thish bloody shing oud of my arshe'

We made it to the bedroom, her running up the stairs in front of me with her tail swishing and throwing herself on her knees against the bed.

I unclipped the tail and pulled it out.

'Shank God for thad.' She gasped.

'Don't you miss it ?'

'No !' She looked around at me. 'Don'd even shink about id !'

'Really ?' I asked with a slight smirk. 'You know I'll fit. I am a size ten'

'Bashtard !' She didn't move. 'Oh, jusht ged id over withh.'

It was a bit more fun than that, certainly for me and I think she enjoyed it too.

I pushed my cock against her stretched sphincter and it slipped in easily; I was stiff again already and still wet from our kitchen table fuck.

'Vugg !.' She gasped as I slid further inside her.

The tightness of her arse felt a bit like the prison my cock had so recently been released from but this ring stretched to accommodate me.

As I pushed in, I slid my hand between her legs finding her clit slick and swollen.

'I could clip a bell to this.' I told her as I played with it.

'Don'd pussh id.' She whspered even as she pushed herself back onto to me and a deep moan escaped her throat.

I didn't push it, not too hard anyway. Even this soon after cumming it would have been over very quickly. She was so beautifully tight. So, I took my time freeing her nipples from the bridle with my cock gently sliding back and forth. After their long captivity, her little buds were intensely sensitive firing her with a true mix of pleasure and pain as I played with them, pushing my fingers through the piercing rings and teasing her as I nibbled at her shoulder and pushed myself inside her until my balls tapped gently against her sex.

'You bashtard !' She said.

I slipped my hand back between her legs seeking her clit again.

'Shtop drying do make me enjoy id !' She said rather unconvincingly. 'Oh ! Vugg !'

I was pretty sure she came but I know I did, shooting another load into her body.

'You do know you have lipstick on your face ?' She lay back on the bed, free now of the bridle but still harnessed and still wearing her boots. She had her thighs spread, her sex gaping in front of me.

I rubbed my cheek where Honey Pot had kissed me.

'Actually, it's all over your lips.'

'Honey Pot Jumped me...' I tried to explain rubbing my lips and noticing that I'd smeared the vivid pink lipstick on her lips and shoulders.

'Yeah, yeah.' She shook her head. 'And Rubber Dolly's arse slapped itself against your hand.'

I felt myself reddening.

'You're cute when you blush !' She said with a giggle. 'Maybe I could get you a modeling job.'

'I owe you at least two spankings you know !' I told her. 'I can make it three...and then, there was the business of the key.'

'You think I'd trust Cassie with the key to that thing ?' She shot back looking at my already stiffening cock. I'd suggested she could lick it clean after taking her anally but she'd told me I had to go and wash it before it came anywhere near her again; not very submissive but it was a point I wasn't going to argue over. I had plans to keep her in line.

'You really are going to get spanked now.' I told her.

'You've been promising to spank me for days.' She said with a look of defiance. 'Weeks, in fact. The last really good spanking you gave me was when you found me frigging myself in the stable. Now that was a spanking.'

I rolled her over. Her back and buttocks were black and blue and red from where I'd used the whip in the race. The gash at the top of her back he closed over but she still had a trail of blood down her back.

Despite the abuse she'd already endured, she giggled as I brought my hand down on her bottom.

'You hit like a girl !' She squealed kicking her legs.

I struck her again.

'Worse than a girl.'

I hit her harder.

'Better.'

By the time I got to ten my hand was sore and she'd stilled; her bottom was glowing.

I rolled her over and she lay on her bound arms looking up at me spreading her legs.

'Keep me like this !' She said with a dreamy look in her blue eyes. 'Master.'

If she meant she wanted me to keep her in bondage, it was an offer I couldn't refuse, but if she meant she wanted to stay in the bedroom, that wasn't going to last long; I was already planning her training regime for next year so in a couple of weeks, she was going to be back in the stable, for a few nights a week, at least.