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Author's Note: In 'The Pony Race', Bryony (also know as the ponygirl 'Sticky Fingers') enlisted the help of athletics coach, Mike to help her prepare for the annual village Mares' race. The intense and rather kinky nature of their training drew the two of them into an intimate relationship and exposed Bryony's submissive nature. Eighteen months later, the couple remain in the village of Mares-de-Launce, with Bryony living as Mike's slave...
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CHAPTER 1: GOING DOWN
Whipped Cream claimed that a good centre attack pony at the Buenos Aires PonyGirl Polo Club can hear the ball as it falls towards the centre spot at the start of a chukka and can thus anticipate the moment her player will set her to the gallop with the whip. When pony and player are in perfect harmony, the ball is as good as won. In the stillness the before the game as the referee throws out the ball for what is know as 'The Drop' I can almost believe it as every player, pony and spectator seems to hold their breath with anticipation of the explosive action to follow.
The sound of the bounce comes a fraction of a second too late to be of any use to a harnessed, bridled and hooded pony girl. The decision of when to move is thus up to the player driving her but the pony must be poised, ready for the off...must 'know'.
If the bounce was audible, I didn't hear it and I very much doubt my pony did either; when I saw the scuff of dirt as the ball struck earth I laid the whip across Bryony's buttocks and she lurched forward in an explosion of adrenaline; within five metres she was half way to full gallop, by ten she was there with matching red welts forming a V-shape across her straining buttocks.
Eighty yards away and closing, The-Cat-That-Got-The-Cream was racing towards us with equal fervor, driven on by her mistress, Whipped Cream.
It's hard to express the exhilaration of driving a well trained pony girl, watching as she strains in harness in front of you blind, helpless and obedient; her body perfectly honed and utterly under your control; and if that wasn't enough, there's the visceral thrill of the acceleration and the connection to her through the harness and reins; the creak of tack, thundering hooves (ok, I exaggerate), jingling harness clips; the smell of sweat and leather; the kiss of the whip on bare flesh.
Sometimes, it's better than sex.
Bryony is certainly a well trained pony girl. I know this because I trained her myself.
The fact that she's also small and pert with a mane of red hair (which I'm glad to say had grown back over the year since my first race with her) and intensely submissive are just the icing on the very rich and beautiful cake that life has recently cut me a slice of.
Who says a man can't have his cake an eat it !
It helps that Bryony is a superb athlete; determined, focussed and very, very fit (in every sense of the word). She's a pretty fair sprinter though middle distance would be her forte if she competed in more conventional events. Most importantly, for pony girl racing and, indeed PonyGirl Polo, she has strong legs (I know; as well as seeing her perform, I've had them wrapped round me enough times) and a gritty determination so that, even encumbered by my weight in the chariot her acceleration and stamina are impressive.
Of course, having me whipping the hell out of her arse as I drove her towards that ball was a pretty good incentive too.
Tearing my eyes away from my beautiful pony, I looked up; we were a little over twenty yards out from the ball and I could see The-Cat pounding towards us; hooded, harnessed, bridled and clearly just as determined as Bryony to get her driver, or 'player' as Cream called us, to the ball first. 'The-Cat-That-Got-the-Cream' was taller than Bryony, giving her longer strides but she was younger, her body less toned, lacking Bryony's wiry strength and, while the Goose had done a pretty thorough job training her in Cream's absence, the blonde wasn't a match Bryony. I was thus disappointed to see that, as we closed to within about ten yards, The-Cat and her Cream were a little closer to the ball than us.
The girls had a slight downhill advantage but even uphill they seemed to beat us and I couldn't for the life of me work out what to do about it. The reason they beat us to the ball was simple, Whipped Cream (I'll tell you the story of her name later) had been playing PonyGirl Polo for six months with the best team (The Caballeras Azuls) in one of the top competitions the world (The Buenos Aires PonyGirl Polo Club) even if I hadn't heard of them until two months ago. The delightfully perky blonde knew just when, where and how to drive her equally delightful, perky blonde pony and, try as I might, I just couldn't get the same level of performance out of Bryony.
My beloved pony might be the undisputed champion of the mares' race but polo was a different thing entirely.
We were just under ten yards apart, both still lashing our ponies to keep them at full gallop as we bore down on the ball when The-Cat turned.
Convention dictates that, players pass the ball to their right hand sides allowing the first player to reach it to scoop it up with her (players are usually girls and, usually, just as pert as their ponies) dominant hand. This, however, is only convention. Cream, it appeared, had decided to go left or, perhaps, I realised with a jolt, just slam her pony straight into us.
PonyGirl Polo is very much a contact sport.
It is, at this point, probably time to say a little more about PonyGirl Polo. It is played by teams of four (just as conventional polo) using a ball about the size of a football. The ponies are, obviously, two legged and pull gigs that resemble para-Olympians' wheelchairs, small and compact and very light; with shorter shafts than the standard 'Mares' chariot. The shorter shafts put the player quite close to the ponies and they thus use shorter whips. Ponies are driven hooded meaning that all tactics are entirely the remit of the player but rely on the athletic prowess of the pony and, of course, complete connection between player and pony.
As in 'Mares' pony racing, polo ponies are guided by reins that are either fastened to the bits of their bridles or to nipple rings. Good control and, especially steering, requires two hands but the whip is used frequently to augment this meaning most players hold the reins in the left hand while the right hand is used for the whip. When they play the ball, most players will put the reins in their teeth and transfer the whip to the left hand, using their right to play the ball.
The Polo harnesses we were using were, Cream told us, in the traditional style, simple affairs like dressage ones, strapped around the shoulders and chest and typically restraining to pony with her elbows behind her and her hands, safely protected in mitts, strapped to the side of her chest just below her breasts. Elbow straps are often used in this arrangement too to keep the elbows from swinging out and potentially causing injury (they also make a ponygirl's tits stick out beautifully).
This arrangement leaves the lower half of her body, down to the tops of her boots at least, completely bare and thus an open target for the whip which, being short and light, is used frequently and intensely. In Argentina, where the sport grew up, disobedient daughters and even wives were once sent to the polo stables for a few months to teach them to behave and, once aware of the full incentive a whip could provide they soon became completely obedient to it. Whips were heavier then and, sometimes, barbed too so, needless to say, it was a pretty brutal lesson and, I understood, it was not unusual for a girl to turn an ankle or even break a leg in her determination to obey the whip of her player or trainer.
The lighter pony whips of today are made of a handle with a long stiff section and a short leather blade, unlike the carriage whip I was used to driving Bryony with when I raced her; though, of course, some polo players knot the leather blade to increase its effectiveness. Injuries are less common too although this is probably because modern polo ponies wear boots with strong ankle and, usually, knee supports too, protecting them from the thigh downward, not only from the frequent twists and turns but also from the impact of other ponies and chariots. In these modern times, serious injuries are less common than they once were, with a broken limb occurring, according to Cream, rarely more than five or six times a season in any given stable.
We were about to collide.
The-Cat was still running towards us at full tilt, utterly oblivious to the course set by Cream and utterly obedient in following it. Her hooded head was drawn back and, as we closed, I could see the saliva spraying out around her bit and flecking the front of her hood as she panted hard from the exertion. She might not be in the same class as Bryony but she was an impressive pony, lithe and strong, the muscles of her belly and thighs toned, clearly defined like any good athlete; her breasts small and neat, jutting in front of her in the little black leather cones of her harness, supporting them but leaving her nipples exposed. She ran with long confident strides, her blonde mane flashing in the evening sunlight where it streamed out of the back of her hood and the buckles of her harness glittering. We were so close, I could see her brown nipples bra, stiff and erect, no doubt from exhilaration but also from the way they were being jerked around by the gold piercing rings to which her reins were clipped.
These were the triple piercings of a polo pony; Cream had a set too. Although, much of her time in Argentina had been spent in the chariot (or 'gig' as polo players described it) Cream had also played as a pony and even had a black horse's head with a blue bridle and plume tattooed on her shoulder; the mark of the Caballeras Azuls. Her's didn't have the gold ring around it; good as she was, Cream had only been there for one season; she'd only played for the second team.
Needless to say, after talking about her exploits on her return, it hadn't taken much to persuade the village girls to give the sport a try.
Faced with her skill, the fact she was ahead of us and the fact that I really didn't want my pony getting injured I reluctantly tugged on the reins pulling Bryony to the side and giving up on my claim to the ball.
It was close though; the ponies missed each other by inches passing so close I'd swear both girls turned their heads towards each other as they almost brushed past shoulder to shoulder. For a moment, I thought the wheels of our chariots were going to catch but, scooping the ball with a cry of triumph, Cream, leant hard to her right and her chariot rolled up onto one wheel, bumping over the axle of my own as she sped past grinning insanely, The-Cat running on unchecked.
There was nothing I could do but wheel Bryony round and head back towards our own goal line as Cream, the reins tucked between her teeth looked to her left and right where Reuben and Goose were encouraging their ponies to keep pace with their team's attacker.
There is, of course, 'no 'I' in team' as squad coaches tirelessly and tediously remind everyone and, even as Cream sped on, our hustler, Charles steered Barbie to block her path. As dressage competitors, Charles and his pony, were probably best in the number two, 'hustler', spot; attacking to win the ball in skirmishes when needed and manouvreable enough to tackle effectively if needed.
I watched Cream draw her head back, using the reins as best she could to signal The-Cat to slow. Reuben and Rubber Dolly were being marked by our number three, quarterback, Claire who was already turning Dirty Dancer to block anything but a good high throw. This mean't it was my job to mark 'The Goose'.
Over the year I'd spent in Mares-de-Launce, I'd grown quite fond of the 'Loose Goose'. She wasn't popular among the village girls which probably had something to do with her character and the fact she spent several nights a week, sometimes longer away from the village. She worked in London as an investment account manager and was, judging by the old manor house she'd bought and had renovated, clearly very good at it. The 'Loose' was something of an ironic addition to her name; Goose was organised to the point of obsession, something which apparently didn't endear her to the girls in the village but which I understood perfectly and respected. Goose was a fair choice for her name if a rather cruel one; she was a little awkward, tall and angular and, if was being really mean I would add that she had a pretty big nose.
Mannerisms and appearance aside; the Goose was a serious competitor. She could run in harness and had come third one year in the mares' race but, at some point, she'd clearly made the decision to move into the chariot and when Cream had left the village for her gap year, the Goose had pounced on the The-Cat who, much to everyone's surprise, had rolled over and embraced the advances of her new knight.
It wasn't long before the Goose approached me for some advice and, a few weeks later we were training side by side, literally, sometimes with Bryony and The-Cat harnessed together in the village's double chariot. It worked out well for me as, like the Goose, I had commitments out of the village which potentially left Bryony on her own for a week or two at a time and, while it was possible for her to train on her own, I was happier knowing someone was keeping an eye on her.
Of, course, I hadn't realised at that stage quite how much a rather predatory dominatrix the Goose was; if I had, I might have thought twice about leaving my beloved in bondage with her. Bryony certainly never said anything and besides, I told myself, the Goose had her 'Pussy' to play with and, by all accounts, play with her she did. The-Cat was deeply submissive; she and Goose were a match made in heaven or would have been if Whipped Cream had not eventually returned.
Just before Cream's return, Goose and The-Cat had taken second place in the Mares' race, giving Bryony a run for her money but then Cream had come back and, almost overnight, the Goose lost her paramour. Although she'd shrugged when I consoled her, she'd clearly been upset even if she had known it was coming.
Then, not long after, she'd taken up with Pretty Little Thing and Goose's world had been right again. Looking back, I think the pretty little blonde, just turned nineteen, had been biding her time, waiting for the moment to pounce herself. For all her girl next door charms and world conquering smile PLT knew what she wanted and how to get it. If she'd been that way inclined, she'd have been one of those girls that the guys cluster around but, in Mares, its is fair to say that pussy munching appeared to be very much the norm as well as, of course, kinky equestrian sports.
In some ways, PLT was almost a replacement for the The-Cat; blonde and pert though probably slightly smaller and still with a hint of adolescent fat that smoothed her curves. (The first time I'd seen her in action, I'd been convinced she was too young to race).
It was Goose and her pretty little plaything I was now chasing down the field, whipping Bryony hard to catch them before Cream passed the ball.
Once again, I was too late, only able to watch as the Goose neatly turned Pretty Little Thing a fraction of a second before she caught the ball pointing her towards Tom our number four where he and Cassie waited in front of the goal. They were still thirty yards from the line and, for all the perky little blonde's youthful enthusiasm, Bryony was already at full tilt and faster in the sprint.
I went in for the tackle, Bryony gaining ground quickly as I used the whip to drive her hard.
With the reins in her teeth, the Goose, couldn't turn Pretty Little Thing easily and, as Charles drove Barbie forward to force Cream and The-Cat to go wide, it looked like I might be able to atone for my earlier failing.
I caught them and, for a moment enjoyed the exhilaration of the two ponies running side by side; then I reached over to snatch the ball.
In response, Goose leant back and jerked her head tugging on the reins that were firmly clamped between her teeth.
Pretty Little Thing skidded to an almost instant stop and, before I could respond Goose had tossed the ball to Kevin (the pub landlord) who drove Salty Petals past on my inside and flipped it over Cassie's head to Cream who tossed it into the goal.
CHAPTER 2: BEST MAN
The game continued in pretty much the same way for all six chukkas. We were roundly beaten by nine points to three.
'Cheer up, Mike.' Cream slapped me on the back as I lead Bryony back to Tom's yard where we stored the chariots he'd knocked up for us. 'You can't win 'em all.'
'Yeah, Mike.' Goose said from her other side. 'May be you should hire a coach or something. She was walking Pretty Little Thing beside her, reins in her right hand holding the little blonde close (PLT, as she was known, was still unpierced so used a conventional bridle) and was caressing the girl's lovely bottom which, like the other ponies' was covered in red welts.
'Very funny, Goose.' I gave Bryony's reins a firm jerk and started walking ahead of the group.
Anywhere else, we would have made quite a scene, twelve players leading twelve semi-naked, harnessed and hooded women (reserves included) all hitched to little wheeled carts surrounded by a dozen or so onlookers who'd been cheering us on during our practice game.
As evenings went in Mares-de-Launce, it was pretty much business as usual even if we had obtained permission from the committee to 'sport tack in the village'.
It was, however, something of a shock to my mate Justin who, in the excitement of the game, I'd completely forgotten was coming. He made a slightly comical sight, standing outside the village pub, the Mare in Hand (it's sign restored to one of the four legged variety after the recent Mares' race) with a very surprised look on his face before glancing down at his pint to see how it had been tampered with.
Justin was my best mate and, about six months after I met Bryony I felt it was time to introduce them so I started to tell him about the somewhat unusual activities that took place in Mares-de-Launce. Despite my persistence, he'd dismissed it as a wind-up and when I showed him some (rather tame by her standards) pictures of Bryony and some of the other mares, he'd suggested I make sure I delete my browsing history on a regular basis. I'm not sure if Bryony's work as a part time fetish model helped or hindered the process; if he'd have been aware of 'Redd Hott' (her model name) then I could see how he might get the wrong end of the stick.
However, now he was here, and I was glad of the excuse to peel off from the others, still leading Bryony by her reins. As I approached, I gave him a friendly wave. To his credit, he recovered himself enough to put down his pint and walk towards us though he was openly staring at the pert harnessed redhead following me obediently (the reins were, after all, attached to her nipples) and still harnessed to the chariot.
'Mike !' He managed to tear his eyes of my fiance. 'Err...' Justin was rarely lost for words. 'The taxi dropped me at the house...you...er, weren't there...' His eyes drifted back to Bryony as she stood beside me, in her, polo harness, little more than one of those bras you can see on fetish sites that are simply an arrangement of leather straps, her wrists cuffed to the side of the strap that circled her chest under her pert little breasts; with her elbows were drawn back in this arrangement, it was as if she was almost encouraging him to look at nipples which were clearly visible and stiffly erect from the constant teasing of the bridle (she wasn't allowed to use the nipple bridle so simply had the reins clipped to her piercings). Her skin was still flushed from the exertion of the game and sweat ran down her body as she stood in front of him, her bare, shaved sex thrust forwards and her booted legs apart.
I really couldn't blame him for staring.
'You weren't in.' He managed to say, though this time he didn't look away from Bryony. 'I thought I'd stroll up to the village and get a drink.'
'Good idea.' I grinned, watching him turn red. 'We'll join you in a couple of minutes.' Then I couldn't resist increasing his discomfort. 'This is Bryony by the way.'
'Yes...' He said it slowly. 'I gathered that.'
Quite apart from the lovely pale freckled skin with its unusual tan lines, her red curly hair spilled out the back of her hood.
'Jushdin.' Bryony made a fair attempt to say his name despite the leather coated bit in her mouth, nodding her hood covered head in his direction. 'Good do meed you.'
Polo bridles, training ones at least, don't have a large bit though Cream told me that girls who misbehave often end up training with a large rubber ball in their mouths and, if they really play up, they get a butt plug too. Whipping a pony girl as punishment is a little like pouring water on a duck's back; they endure it on a daily basis. The butt plug, usually with an attached tail, however, is more for humiliation than pain. Polo ponies don't have tails but like many sports these days PonyGirl polo has cheerleaders and the ultimate threat for a polo pony (in Buenos Aires, at least) is to be dropped from the squad and sent to join the cheerleaders. Polo cheerleaders wear tails and having one shoved in her arse is a clear message to a pony that her position in the team is under consideration.
Despite his usual coolness, Justin was struggling but he's a mate and I saw no reason to ease his discomfort.
'It's good to see you mate.' I gave him a hug and slapped him on the back. 'You can ask her life history when I've had a chance to take off her bridle.
'Oh, don't go to any trouble on my account.' Justin had obviously recovered his power of speech and was rapidly adjusting to the situation.
Feeling guilty about leaving Justin alone, I removed Bryony's bridle in a bit of a rush leaving her harness in place; I didn't give her a chance to shower despite offers from Tom. This wasn't too unusual in Mares, there's something very wholesome about a sweat soaked mare (I still prefer 'pony') being taken for a drink after a hard day between the shafts. Keeping her sweaty also meant the white cotton dress Bryony had slipped on over her harness was wet and sticking to her skin by the time we reach the pub making it almost completely translucent and, with her wrists cuffed behind her back, there was little she could do to hide her obvious charms.
Of the players, we were the second couple to reach the pub; Salty Petals was already behind the bar having hastily thrown a T-short over her harness (yes, it was wet too and Salty Petals had plenty to display through it).
Most of the other girls appeared over the next ten minutes; like Bryony they had all slipped on dresses though most had taken a little more time to cool down. It was clear most wore their harnesses beneath and their dresses which did little to hide swollen chaffed nipples and the associated piercing rings a number sported. Mares are required by the committee to cover up except on 'designated' days and, in the summer, the easiest way to do this was to pull a dress over your harness. It was late September and still warm enough for this practice (we didn't want to impose on the committee's good will).
In winter it is easy, girls just wore a coat.
Most of the mares had been freed of their mitts but like Bryony, Pretty Little Thing was still wearing hers, and had her wrists cuffed behind her; Goose lead her in by a leash clipped to her collar. (There were no rules about this).
Although our quick turn around didn't present Bryony (or any of the mares) in their best light, the way her dress clung to her body and outlining her little breasts ringed by the harness straps, and her stiff, ringed nipples, clearly drew Justin's attention away from the redness of her face and her disheveled, 'hood' hair. I couldn't help laughing as he held out a hand to her then drew it back as she turned to show him her cuffed hands.
He gave her hug and walking slightly awkwardly, went to buy us a drink while I sat at the table and Bryony dropped to her knees beside me.
'You wimped out again, didn't you !.' Bryony looked up at me accusingly. Adding after a moment 'Sir.'
She could be fiercely submissive but there were times when her other passions surfaced and winning at sports was a passion.
I should probably have given her an immediate demerit but I felt uncomfortable about my own performance, recalling the opening drop and, for that matter, the other ten or so I'd also lost until we'd swapped positions.
'Perhaps I didn't want my property to be damaged !' I told her.
It was not unusual for centre attack ponies to be stretchered off at the start of the game. It rarely happened in subsequent starts as one player has usually exerted dominance on the field. Cream had certainly done that this evening.
She'd done it in our previous match too. Bryony was only there because of her speed.
'Sir is very conscientious with his property.' She said with a flash of disapproval in her blue eyes.
'I don't want you hurt.' I reminded her.
'I can take it, you know.' She said, her tone softening. 'Sir.'
We were saved from any further disharmony by the arrival of Goose and Pretty Little Thing, the lovely blonde dropping to her knees beside Bryony as her mistress took up position on the bench opposite me offering what I felt were somewhat smug commiserations.
'I recon Pretty and I could do better than you.' She said pointedly.
I realised, not for the first time, why people disliked the Goose. She was way too direct.
'Perhaps you could try out as the hustler.' Bryony said without looking up. 'Sir.'
I mentally notched up a demerit for that one.
I doubted it would help; the dressage mares were far more adept at the manoeuvring needed for this role, being used to turning sharply under the whip and, for that matter running blindfolded.
I needed to up my game. Coaching Bryony to victory in the Mares Race had won me a lot of kudos in the village and it really would be humiliating to lose it all by being put in the subs bench.
Cassie and Tom slid onto the bench beside me.
'Can't win 'em all, Mike.' Tom said.
Bryony lifted her eyes somewhat reproachfully. She liked to win as much as I did.
'Is anyone else going to tell me I suck at polo ?' I asked rather more defensively than I meant to.
'You suck, Mike.' Cream came over trailing The-Cat on a leash which was clearly still attached to her nipple rings. Like most of the other girls, The-Cat still wore her harness, she was bridled too and although Cream had removed her hood, her hands were still mitted and strapped to the side of her harness like they'd been in the match. She wore a poncho with open sides that did almost nothing to cover the harness beneath or her fit, tanned body. I noticed she wore a tail too and wondered if it was a sign of her mistress' disapproval.
Justin came back to the table just behind the pair and I could see him staring at blonde strands hanging to just below The-Cat's knees. The poncho was so short, that, I expect, if she bent over, he'd be able to see how her tail was attached.
We slid up to allow Cream to join us on the bench and she was about to slide in when I heard 'Hey goucha girl !'
Cream turned to see Honey Pot clearly still in her work clothes mincing towards us hampered as much by the ludicrously tight pencil skirt around her knees as the six inch 'fuck-me' heels that, along with a slightly translucent white blouse revealing a black bra beneath that formed Honey Pot's work clothes. She was, as usual, heavily made up; all big hair, false lashes and heavy make up. I gathered she worked as a PA to a music producer based in Exeter and, assuming she focussed on her work as much as her personal grooming was probably very good at her job; I could certainly imagine her placating any of her boss' male clients and she had personality enough to soften the most temperamental of artistes. I could also imagine her filing her nails while her boss waited for an urgent report she'd forgotten to type.
'I'm soooo sorry.' Honey Pot hugged a slightly stiff Cream in an embrace that was way too familiar for a friend in the pub. 'Did I miss anything ?'
'You missed training.' Cream answered flatly.
'I'll make it up to you, I promise.' She looked over at Eye Candy who was sitting in corner. 'Double training tomorrow.'
'Whatever.' Cream shrugged. 'You were just in time to hear me slag off our resident athletics coach's latest dismal performance.'
'Your a gem and I love you.' Honey Pot teetered off down the table swinging her handbag to plonk herself down next to Eye Candy.
'And I'm a Caballera, not a gaucha !' Cream called after her.
But Honey Pot wasn't listening.
Cream rolled her eyes and jerked on The-Cat's leash encouraging her to join Bryony and Pretty Little Thing on her knees before resting her head on her mistress' lap.
I watched Cream stroke her little pet's hair.
Justin almost missed the table as he put the tray of drinks down; he was so busy staring at the two pert blondes. From where he as standing he would have a perfect view down the front of The-Cat's poncho but most of his interest seemed to be directed at Cream. To be fair to him, both were pretty and both blonde and (fuck me !) they were were hot !. They were similar enough that they could probably pass for sisters if they chose and, now Cream's South American tan was fading they looked even more alike except for their expressions; when with her mistress, The-Cat wore a dreamy submissive look, head bowed and eyes lowered whereas Cream had an arrogant demeanor, holding her head up and shoulders back, the tight slick, glistening ponytail matching her lean almost hungry expression that seemed to be forever issuing a challenge the world.
This was new, Bryony had told me. The girl had never been timid but her year in South America had certainly been an eventful one.
Tonight, as was usual when we played polo, Cream was wearing her 'Caballeras Azuls' strip, the 'colours' of her stable, the tight blue leather bolero jacket pumping up her small firm cleavage and the brief ultra tight leather shorts defining her exquisitely curved bottom and clearly displaying the bulge of her sex between her perfectly toned thighs. The full outfit had a cape and dress boots which were thigh high and had spiked heeled though, tonight, she'd not brought the cape and only wore her stable boots.
They were a little scuffed after the game but still gleamed, blue and shiny and I wondered how long The-Cat spent on her knees polishing them.
Even when not wearing her colours, Cream seemed to have a penchant for leather and, despite the warmth of the summer she had usually be seen strutting round the village in the guise of a leather-clad dominatrix, frequently sporting a coiled whip that I thought made her look rather like Catwoman. Like every good dominatrix she accessorized with a submissive plaything, in this case, The-Cat-That-Got-The-Cream who she liked to trail around on a leash minimally clad and usually with her wrists cuffed behind her back. This wasn't strictly against the rules but I understood the committee took a dim view of it.
In contrast to her own perfectly groomed dominatrix persona, Cream liked to present her submissive as a seminaked slut; dressing her little 'pussy' in clothes that did little to hide the girl's toned and tanned body; open sided T-shirt dresses that gaped to allow an almost uninterrupted view of her belly and breasts or to reveal slutty underwear if the girl was allowed to wear any; or, on warm days, a minuscule bikini that was little more than string and three tiny triangles of material.
The clothes also revealed the kind of games the girls got up to; The-Cat's body was rarely free of whipmarks, many in places that would not be caused by mare training or ponygirl polo.
Whatever Cream offered, The-Cat seemed to lap it up. It was clear the perky blonde pony was completely infatuated with her mistress and enjoyed every moment of the abuse the young dominatrix heaped upon her.
'I hope you're taking notes.' Bryony had said one evening in the beer garden of the pub as The-Cat lay under the table sucking her mistress' toes.
'This is Justin.' I said, trying to drag my mate's attention away from Cream's cleavage (it was definitely Cream that interested him, or perhaps it was her thighs or maybe her boots. Actually, it did seem to be those shiny knee high boots; perhaps it was as well she wasn't wearing the spike heeled thigh boots.
'He's a mate of mine.'
'Can you drive a mare ?' Cream asked lifting her head and giving him the full pout and glare of her deep hazel eyes.
Justin took on the rabbit-in-headlights look and shook his head.
'Shame.' Cream said. 'Perhaps you prefer to be between the shafts.'
Cream looked pointedly to the floor where the three ponies knelt and then back up at him.
Justin's mouth moved up and down but nothing came out
'Justin is a bit new to this.' I told them feeling somewhat protective and regretting my earlier teasing of him.
It's not every night a man meets a PonyGirl polo club and being cross examination by one of its most dominant players seemed unfair for a newbie.
'Goose.' The Goose seemed to came to his rescue too holding out her hand.
'Justin.' Justin took it somewhat shakily, looking at me as he did so.
'Pony...er, mare's name.' I told him. 'Her real name's Lucy.'
The Goose glared at me and gave me a swift kick in the shins under the table.
'There's plenty of space if you want to join us.' The Goose gestured to the floor, her lips curled into the hint of a smile as she appraised him and I wondered, suddenly, if there might be a little rivalry between her and Cream. The Goose isn't exactly pretty, nothing like Cream (or Bryony for that matter) but she's not bad looking in a stern, almost school-teacherly way, she has lovely grey eyes and waist length straight blonde hair which as usual was hanging behind her in a long tight plait. Like most of the girls on the village she's fit too and, she has a lovely pair of breasts; something that is a (sadly) unusual among all the slim, pert racing mares of Mares-de-Launce. At that moment they were displaying a perfect cleavage as they strained against her bra under the soft pink blouse she was wearing; and Justin was in a perfect spot to take full advantage of them. Her outfit was completed by a pair of very tight white jodhpurs and shiny black riding boots.
It was definitely the boots Justin was looking at and for a moment I almost got the impression he was going to kneel beside them.
'Hey, Justin.' It was Eye Candy who saved him. 'Come and sit with us.'
She was sitting with Honey Pot at the other end of the table where Claire sat in her wheelchair, her current pony, Dirty Dancer in her lap.
Honey Pot slid out for him then squeezed up against him as he sat down.
'I'm Honey...'
'I'm Candy...'
A smile spread across Justin's face as he looked at me and then across at Goose.
Happy as he seemed, I wasn't sure if Justin was relieved of disappointed.
At that moment, the rest of the team appeared, Reuben trailing Rubber Dolly on a leash that emerged from below the hem of one of her trademark rubber minidresses and was clearly attached to her clit piercing and Charles followed by Barbie; the big breasted blonde dressed rather casually in a short linen dress and restrained in a tight white single sleeve. I wasn't too surprised to see the two dressage mares had clearly taken up the offer of a shower and even retouched their hair and make up. Rubber Dolly joined the subs on the floor and Charles pulled up a barstool for Barbie who sat and crossed her wonderfully long legs giving the entire table a flash of neatly trimmed and multiply pierced pussy.
'Mum !' Cassie couldn't contain her horror.
Barbie fixed her daughter with a withering stare. 'If you're jealous Cassandra, you should get yours done. You did lose that bet, I recall.'
Cassie glowered even as her face turned scarlet and was clearly thinking of a retort but Cream headed off another row between mother and daughter by starting her team talk.
'We've got less than a month until the Dryad's Feast.' She told us. 'You've all got the skills but you lack the passion. Skills will only take you so far.'
It was typical coaching babble, I used this sort of stuff myself; the only difference was that, at nineteen, Cream believed it.
'Mike...' She turned to look at me. 'You've got to want that ball.'
I nodded. I knew all this but I still didn't want Bryony hurt.
'I'm just worried about injuries.' I told her. 'It is just a game...'
It was a red rag to a bull.
CHAPTER 3: SEX SLAVE
'I can take it, Sir.' Bryony said when I came into our bedroom. She was still cuffed and leashed and therefore kneeling still in her dress and boots at the foot of our bed.
I'd just settled Justin into the spare bedroom.
The walk home had been rather awkward. Bryony was in full submissive mode clearly angry with herself for her earlier petulance, for failing to act the perfect submissive she strove to be. She'd insisted on being collared and leashed for the walk, trailing a couple of paces behind like a good slave while Justin tried to make conversation knowing that there was some sort of stand-off between his mate and his mate's fiance and he was expected to spend the next few days with us discussing wedding plans.
'I don't recall giving you permission to speak.' I said irritably. I'd been quite looking forward to sharing Mares-de-Launce with my best mate but I was still smarting from Cream's summary of my performance; hell I was still feeling like shit over the performance itself.
I really didn't need a pouting Bryony reminding me I wasn't dominant enough.
Even after a year, I was struggling a bit with the Master-Slave thing. I was certainly into bondage and I loved the idea of having Bryony as my own personal sex slave, willing, eager even, to bow to my will to submit to bondage, I enjoyed spanking her and binding her in tight restraint as a punishment but I couldn't help feeling she wanted more and, sometimes, I felt I struggled to be the strong master she desired.
Most of the girls in the village liked to get strapped into harness and whipped but they weren't by any means all submissives although The-Cat seemed to be clear exception. Even PLT submitted on her terms. I'd always thought of Rubber Dolly as submissive but there were those stories of her playing the dominant... Bryony's friend Cassie or 'Swallow' to use her 'mares' name liked to be tied up and punished but she wasn't really Tom's slave even though she called him 'master' when they played their games; the same was true of Cassie's mother, Barbie.
I'd been attracted to Bryony for her looks and her personality (yes, I admit it was probably that order originally); the fact she liked to play pony and be tied up for a bit of light spanking was a definite bonus. However, I enjoyed her as the kinky lover who flirted and deliberately crossed the line to get spanked; I found the full on slave-girl a bit tiresome. However, Bryony was not a girl who did things by halves. Like me, she liked to be the best at whatever she did and if, as in her case, that goal was being the ultimate slave girl then she was going to achieve it. I could handle it most of the time but I found it hard sometimes, particularly when she wanted me to genuinely hurt her - except when she was in training when she deserved everything she got.
'I am going to punish you.' I said firmly.
'Yes, Sir.' She gave me the flicker of a smile, pleased no doubt that I was going to punish her properly.
'Get up on the bed.' I bent and freed the clip holding her mitted hands behind her back.
'Yes, Sir.' She paused a moment. 'I wonder if Master might like to use the knotted cat on his slave's breasts.'
I sighed inwardly. The knotted cat really pushed her limits.
'Bed.' I snapped trying to be the master she wanted.
'Yes, Sir.' Bryony flashed me a smile and dropped on to all fours.
She really was magnificent, crawling animal-like, her back curved as she stuck her bottom out. I watched her pause beside the bed and struggle to remove her dress with her mitted hands; her body was just so deliciously pert and was beautifully displayed in the tight polo harness and thigh high polo boots. The black leather collar I took her for walks in was still buckled round her neck.
She looked at me, grinning at the way she'd got my attention, at the stiffness of my cock, then she climbed up onto the bed and lay spread-eagled.
I could do this and I wondered if she was thinking the same.
The bed was fitted with chains but I preferred to tie her and I took a handful of leather thongs, tying one around each wrist and ankle and pulling them tight.
She was staring up at the ceiling, preparing herself for the whipping.
'Count for me.'
Yes, Sir.' Her eyes opened briefly flicking towards me. 'Thank you, Sir.'
I brought the lash down hard on her pert little mounds harder than I meant to and she cried out.
'One.'
I hit her again. The polo harness offered her almost no protection.
'Yessss...' She hissed between gritted teeth. 'Two.'
I brought the whip down again seeing red blotches linked by faint lines flower across her softly freckled skin, hearing her howl as one of the knots caught a nipple.
'Three !'
I gave her a moment to catch her breath.
'Four.'
Perhaps I should just go with it. She said she wanted to be treated like this.
'Five.' The tension in her voice rose and I struck again her watching her squirm as her skin turned redder.
Six...'
Tears squeezed out of her tightly closed eyelids.
'As Justin's in the room next door. I told her. I'm going to gag you.'
'Yes, Sir.' Her eyes flicked towards me and she licked her lips. 'Thank you, Sir.'
Being gagged always excited her and besides, if I hit her again, she was probably going to start howling.
I took the harness gag with it's large ball out of the drawer beside the bed. It was something we used frequently and was her favourite gag. She had seven and I'd spent a happy evening with her a couple of moths back trying each one in turn; needless to say she'd been restrained the whole time as I'd pushed various plugs, balls and bits into her mouth. I liked to think the harness gag was her favourite because I'd told her she looked good in it. On that recent evening, she'd slept in it. She'd even taken it to a photoshoot a few days later and, when I'd looked at the set on line the caption beside the shoot said how she'd brought it along because it was her boyfriend's favourite and she wanted to wear it. It was one of the sexiest shoots I'd seen her do, subbing to the gorgeous Mistress Gabrielle and ending up in an intense hogtie where her tightly bound arms, touching from the elbows down, were tied to rope harness and then her bound ankles pulled up almost to her shoulders before her head was tied to her toes using the ring at the top of the head harness. She said she'd lasted about fifteen minutes before she thought she was going to pass out but Mistress Gabrielle had made her do another five.
The gag wouldn't silence her but it was big enough to quieten things down unless she really screamed and it gave her something to bite down on.
With the gag in place, I gave her another two strokes across the breasts and then two between the legs the last of which made her squirm violently fighting back the urge to scream.
I knew she couldn't take much more and when she opened her eyes she had a pleading look on her face.
I caressed the side of her face, brushing her hair away from her eyes.
'Just another two.' I told her.
I could do this to her, it just didn't come naturally.
She shook her head. 'Nng, Shr. Blsh.'
'Are you arguing with Master ?'
Her eyes flooded with tears. I'd clearly taken her to the limit.
'Ngg, Shr.' She shook her head again.
'Then you will take two more.'
She looked at me, pleading, eyes shining with tears. The she nodded.
'Ysh, Shr.' She closed her eyes laying back, preparing her body.
I brought the whip down on her belly twice in quick succession; not hard, just enough to sting.
'Shng u, Shr.' She almost sobbed with relief.
'Kiss the whip.' I held it to her gag and she lifted her head moving her lips albeit rather ineffectually.
Then I fucked her.
She was spreadeagled on the bed, helpless, her breasts and belly and sex bruised where I'd jsut punished her; wearing leather bondage mittens and pony boots and harness and brutally gagged.
I was rock hard despite my reticence to hurt her and she was soaking wet, riding a wave of submissive satisfaction that the whipping had given her. It was one of those delicious fucks that fills you with pleasure, sheer exultation suffusing your body so that you don't want it to end. I tried to hold back but didn't take me long to cum and as I finished myself off, ramming into her to milk myself dry, she gasped and climaxed too and then I lay on top of her panting hard, aware she was doing the same thing.
I suppose, if I was better at this, I'd have left her frustrated.
'Shng u, Shr.' She whispered over and over again nuzzling her cheek against mine. 'Shng u...shng u...'
'Don't thank me yet.' I put on my dominant master voice climbing of her, my cock still semierect and slick with her juices. I could easily have taken her again. 'I'm not having a filthy slut like you lying in my bed all night. You haven't showered and you're drooling all over the pillow. You're spending the night on the floor.'
'Ysh, Shr.' She looked at me, her eyes shining. 'Shng u, Mshtr.'
The Goose arrived as we were having breakfast.
Justin seemed rather pleased to see her as she strode in dressed rather formally I thought for a Saturday morning practice in a riding jacket, jodhpurs and stable boots; I thought she was wearing more make up than usual too. Like many of Goose's clothes, the jacket was pink as was her lipstick. Village rumours suggested the Goose had a soft feminine streak beneath her tough and often aloof exterior. Her outfit certainly drew Justin's attention or, perhaps, it was just the relief of not having to stop himself looking at Bryony who after a night of chastisement had insisted on being the perfect slave, serving us breakfast wearing nothing but the black leather collar, a smile and a pair of five inch heels. I hoped Justin wouldn't ask too many questions about the whip marks on her breasts that she hadn't had the night before and really couldn't have come from ponyplay anyway.
The punishment had clearly been what she wanted. She had crawled into bed when I'd released her from the hogtie at around six in the morning and more or less forced me to have sex with her as much as any girl can who's bound and naked and gagged.
The Goose joined us as we finished our coffee. Since she'd taken up with Pretty Little Thing, I'd seen a lot less of her but at some point in her tirade the previous evening, Cream had suggested she 'work with' me to try and improve my gameplay. The Goose had smiled. 'Oh, I'd love to put Mike through his paces.' She'd said archly then looked at Justin. 'Perhaps Justin would like a few lessons too.'
Whatever she planned for later, the Goose suggested we start by warming the girls up with a run up to the moor in the double chariot and, when we'd finished our coffee, we all followed Goose outside to find Pretty Little Thing kneeling in the yard waiting for us. The pert blonde was on her knees, as naked as Bryony and also collared. PLT's collar was permanent; at least it was metal, locked and covered in pink enamel. She wasn't restrained but was kneeling with her legs apart and her hands behind her head.
She was also shivering violently.
'Good girl.' The Goose leant over her, cupping one of the blonde's large and impossibly firm breasts and teasing the very stiff pink nipple.
In response Pretty Little Thing's teeth chattered.
The first frost of the year was on the ground even if it was a bright, sunny morning.
Rather cheekily, I thought, the Goose looked at Bryony, gesturing for her to join the kneeling submissive; something which my slave did with a smile, sliding her hands behind her head and pushing out her small breasts.
We harnessed and bridled the mares and then hitched them side-by-side in front of the double chariot. By the time we had finished, they were shivering violently. Despite their recent foray into ponygirl polo, Bryony and PLT were racing mares and while they both looked rather fetching in their little polo harnesses like the other village girls, it was a pleasure to see them in full racing rig, arms sleeved behind their backs, bodies bound with straps, their waists girdled in leather. There's something about the way a girl moves in racing boots too, the way she constantly shifts her weight to maintain her balance.
I wasn't sure if Justin appreciated the subtleties but he seemed to be throughly enjoying the process especially when Goose asked him to help adjust the long leather traces that connected Pretty Little Thing to the chariot.
When she'd stood up, I noticed PLT was wearing her tail, blonde naturally to match her mane. Mares didn't usually train with their tails in but it seemed unfair to let Bryony miss out though she had shivered again as I pushed the cold plug into her. Rather generously, I'd lubed it; she was, after all, still getting used to the new size twelve.
Then, we were more or less ready.
With PLT still unpierced, Goose clipped the reins to the girl's bits and took up the whip; then, without further ado, she urged the girls into a trot with a shake of the reins and a couple of deft flicks of the whip.
'Come along boys.' She said turning back to us as the mares drew her across they yard in a beautiful rising trot, their boots clip-clopping on the concrete.
I looked at Justin and we broke into a gentle jog.
She let them fall into a lazy trot as they reached the track and then, as they warmed up took them to the canter. Running beside them was rather enjoyable, and, even if the Goose had rather taken over, the opportunity to watch Bryony running in harness like this more than made up for it; the fact she was harnessed next to one of the prettiest girls I've ever met made it even more special. They made a marvelous pair even if they weren't matching; two half naked girls running in harness with their heads up manes and tails streaming behind them, breath coming in steaming clouds around the bits of their bridles. They'd run together often enough that they were able to keep in step; something the Goose insisted on and enforced by free use of the whip and occasional commands.
It didn't take the girls long to warm up again though the little stream at the bottom of the hill splashed them with icy water as they plunged through; the girls' of course were largely protected by their boots and Goose by the chariot; it was only Justin and I that end up with wet feet.
Then Goose forced them to a hard pace as they climbed up to the moor, the air growing colder as we gained height until Dartmoor opened up before us, glorious and frosty in the autumn sunshine.
At the top of the track, Goose pulled the girls to a halt and dismounted her chariot.
'You're more out of breath than the mares.' She said pointedly to Justin. 'Perhaps I should be running a ponyboy school.'
Justin nodded as he gasped for breath.
'I used to play rugby.' He said leaning forwards and resting his hands on his knees 'But work got in the way. I really must get back in shape.'
He'd certainly put on a few pounds in the last six months.
We stood for a few moments enjoying the view, Justin's focus being largely on the mares as they took to opportunity to catch their breath. There was only a light breeze, coming on off the sea but the mares were naked and soon seemed eager to be off as the sweat cooled on their bodies.
'Want to drive them back ?' Goose asked.
I looked in surprise to see that she was addressing Justin.
'Me ?' He looked almost as frightened as he had in the pub the night before when Cream had asked him if he might prefer to run between the shafts.
'It's not difficult.' Goose persisted. 'Even Mike can do it.'
With some coaxing she got Justin up into the chariot and took him through the motions of pony racing, making him drive round in the corner of the field and along the track turning left and right and then walk the mares backwards. Although it kept the mares moving it was not enough to keep them warm and by the time he had learnt the basics both girls were shivering again, their skins pale and goosebumped and their teeth chattering around their bits.
'I think your ponies are getting cold.' Justin said gallantly.
The Goose, standing beside him in the chariot fixed him with one of her stares.
'They're mares, not a ponies.' She snapped curtly. 'And they'll do as I tell them.'
Justin looked suitably chastened and I certainly wasn't going to interfere; besides, if Bryony wanted to be an abject slave girl, this was presumably exactly how she wanted to be treated.
The ponies, sorry, 'mares' were shivering fairly violently by the time the Goose was happy to let Justin drive back but they warmed up quickly pulling the chariot containing both Justin and the Loose Goose while I had the pleasure of jogging alongside and splashing through the freezing stream again. Justin seemed to thoroughly enjoy himself standing in the chariot driving with Goose very close behind him, her body pressed against his, holding the whip and occasionally flicking it at the hind quarters of one of her charges if they showed any signs of slowing under the control of their new driver.
The two girls really had to work hard to climb the hill after the stream and earned themselves a good few whip marks as they toiled under the combined weight of their two drivers though they made a good attempt at a sprint as they were whipped to the gallop for the final straight and I heard Justin whoop with delight as they galloped into the stable yard.
It reminded me of the exhilaration I felt the first time I drove Bryony in harness.
'Good boy.' The Goose said, still pressed somewhat unnecessarily closely, I thought, against Justin's back as the two mares stood gasping, their breath emerging in clouds of steam.
Justin's smile said it all.
'Get the gate would you, Mike.' Goose said turning to me. 'I'll trot them up to Tom's.'
I started to protest but she gave me one of her looks and I wimped out. I knew my place and I really did need Goose's help if Bryony and I were going to make the polo team. Besides, it was ten months until the mares race; even if anyone did report us for 'sporting tack in the village' the worst that was likely to happen was a reprimand from the committee.
To be fair to Goose, there is something deliciously satisfying and illicit about trotting a mare along the road. Bryony and I have done it a few times and looks you get from passing motorists are priceless.
We haven't caused an accident yet.
CHAPTER 4: SAINTS AND SINNERS
I wasn't surprised when Justin came back for the Dryad's day. By the time he'd left Mares, he and Goose seemed to have a bit of a thing going on; even if much of it did involve the severe blonde reminding him of the need to loose some weight and a number of threats to put him in harness beside PLT to help him with the task. Justin seemed to thoroughly enjoy the humiliation but it was only when Goose gave him a peck on the cheek as they said goodbye that I realised there was anything more serious in it. Predatory dominatrix she might be but the Goose is not a woman given to displays of public affection except, of course, when handling a harnessed, hot and horny mare.
Bryony and I had done a lot of training in the intervening period largely under the watchful eye of The Goose who, to give her fair due, was very competent (for an amateur coach) and I now felt a lot more confident in my ability to charge down the ball.
I should probably also grudgingly admit that I'd been watching the way the Goose handled Pretty Little Thing. I'd not really thought about it when she'd been training The-Cat but now she had her own submissive little mare, there was something more focussed in the way she dominated the lovely blonde, positioning and handling her with an easy, almost casual intimacy, punishing and rewarding her both immediately and by a system of merits and demerits that Bryony liked me to use on her. PLT responded to this treatment by yielding herself utterly to the will of her mistress.
I was yet to find how Goose's flirtation with Justin would fit into the equation. Even if it was all talk and she was just flirting, I suspected Justin had a more than evens chance of dipping into the Honey Pot or doing more than just a little window shopping around Eye Candy; if he was really lucky, he might end up the filling in a Honey Pot, Eye Candy sandwich. The Goose wasn't the only sexually predatory women in the village. Honey Pot and Eye Candy just did it in a different way.
The Dryad's day was a Mares-de-Launce village fete. After the incident with King Arthur's knight that lead the whole 'mares' thing, the dryad apparently kept the village free from discovery for the next few centuries keeping it safe from Saxons, Danes, Vikings, Welsh marauders, various civil wars and even the black death. It had become one of those Christian-pagan celebrations that had rather taken on a life of its own and as it fell on the weekend closest to Halloween was now a good excuse for a party and a chance to dress up. Needless to say, after an afternoon of wholesome family fun involving bouncy castles, tombola stalls and candy floss on the Tourney Field there was an adult version that took place once the kids had gone to bed and, being Mares-de-Launce, this mostly involved the village girls getting strapped into harness for the torchlight parade before taking part in some interesting games in the Mare-in-Hand afterwards.
This year, there was also going to be our first Mares-de-Launce PonyGirl polo match.
In line with the theme of the night we'd called the teams 'Saints' and 'Sinners'; black verses white; dressing the mares in the appropriate colour bodystocking. As a line of demonic black and ghostly white figures we fitted right into the torchlit parade among Goth and skeleton ponies driven by vampire knights and some pretty scary looking demons; there were a smattering of dryads too in keeping with the event; pale etherial figures draped with wisps of silk and wearing garlands of leaves woven into their bridles. However, it was Golden Girl and her new boyfriend who won the coveted fancy dress prize; wrapped from head to foot in tattered bandages like an Egyptian mummy and even wearing an old harness that looked like it had been pulled out of an ancient tomb; she was driven by a jackal-headed god in a suitably pimped chariot.
The parade finished up on the Tourney Field where a bonfire was lit, something that was more than welcome on the chilly, moonlight evening.
Then, before the inevitable adjournment to the warmth of the pub the village's first PonyGirl polo match kicked off.
With Cream refereeing, I got to be captain of the Saints while Goose lead the Sinners, Eye Candy and Honey Pot stepping in to play black. If I hadn't known the village, I might have been surprised how much shiny black leather Goose and her team owned.
Without our resident professional, it was a reasonably fair game and I felt a lot more confident charging down the ball at the 'drop' against Goose and PLT than I'd done against Cream and The-Cat. With no subs, we only played four chukkas and swapped roles so everyone got a chance to play in each position.
In the end the Sinners won, seven to six but everyone seemed to enjoy themselves and Cream got a lot of kudos for setting the thing up; then we all adjourned to the pub for a well earned drink and some interesting variations on apple bobbing.
As we walked across the green towards the Mare-in-Hand, I wasn't surprised to see Justin and Goose make a bee-line for each other and, a moment later, after a slightly awkward embrace, he was in the gig driving PLT while a leather clad Goose walked beside him. PLT looked gorgeous in her shimmering black bodystocking which perfectly displayed the soft curves of her nubile young body as she waked ahead of the gig hooded and harnessed like a good polo pony should be. However, I could understand why Justin kept glancing towards the leather goddess who walked at his side; tall and elegant the Goose strutted in a shiny black leather cat-suit that covered her from head to foot except for an oval for her face and a larger one over her cleavage; her blonde mane hung in a heavy plait down her back, stark against the black leather, from a hole in the smooth shiny hood covering her head; around her neck was a studded leather collar and she wore a tight leather corset that was a mass of shiny black straps and glinting buckles and pinched in her already slim waist to emphasised the flare of her hips and her large breasts; she was also wearing toe boots that, like the corset were a mass of straps and buckles.
If my thoughts about Justin were correct, he was doing well not to be down on his knees worshipping her then and there; I was pretty sure, he going to be doing that later; it couldn't have been easy for Goose to play in clothing that restrictive; she could only have worn it for one reason and as she stroked her whip up the inside of his thigh, Justin clearly realised this too.
We parked the gigs in Tom's yard and Charles and I lifted Claire from her gig into her chair; then we prepped our ponies ready to lead them round to the pub where festivities were in full swing.
In the Mare, there was a lot of leather and quite a bit of lace too; there was a lot of body paint too; kinky leather vampires were intimately engaged with pale, harnessed maidens in dark corners while demons with whips encouraged dryads clad in wisps of silk mostly draped from nipple rings and other piercings to dance with them. I spotted Golden Girl, still in harness and the remains of her bandages which seemed to have slipped in certain areas, notably leaving her breasts completely bare; with her arms sheathed behind her back there was nothing she could have done about this but as she sat astride her new boyfriend's lap engaged in an earnest game of tonsil hockey it seemed reasonable to assume there were other things on her mind. Over by the bar 'Bristols'; identifiable by her generously proportioned arse, the green zombie body paint and purple tail hanging between her legs; was on her knees bent over a large half barrel apparently apple bobbing. The busty brunette was still in her purple field harness with her arms pulled up behind her and cuffed to her girdle; she was clearly taking the game very seriously as her torso hung over the edge of the barrel, her considerable breasts and shoulders half submerged and her head completely under the water. After a moment she surfaced with a triumphant splash and gasp for air holding a large apple in her teeth while water poured off her face and breasts washing away the zombie make-up. She blinked water from her eyes and offered the apple to her boyfriend who took it with a smile and kissed her full on the lips then stood up and replaced her bridle. Then she stood obediently and was lead away still dripping water and green bodypaint on the floor, leaving the barrel for Eye Candy and Honey Pot who squealed with delight at the prospect of being handcuffed and half drowned in a competition that would see one of them kept as the other's plaything for the rest of the evening as long as someone more interesting didn't come along.
Bryony stuck close to me, as usual at these events, still harnessed and wearing her white fishnet bodystocking; this time she'd little choice as she was still hooded, and bridled, following me on a leash clipped to her collar. She looked fabulous in the bodystocking and white leather hood, her mane of red hair tumbling down her back. I'd released her hands from the polo harness and then strapped them into a white leather single sleeve; I'd let her wear her tail too, locking the flange in place so it hung between her legs supported by nothing more than her well trained sphincter.
Hallowe'en needs more submissive ghostly polo ponies so I wasn't about to argue with her request to be kept like this; fulfilling her submissive desires and making me a lot less self-conscious when it came to looking at some of her fellow mares sporting various degrees of bondage and wearing next to nothing. Bryony could be pretty intense sometimes and being hooded and bridled at gatherings like this meant there was nothing she could do but play the obedient sub. It clearly turned her on to follow me round on her leash, my devoted pet, pressing her lovely against me at every opportunity as I chatted to everyone else. Schmoozing is something I've become good at over the years, it gets me contracts in the sporting world.
'Now there's slave who knows how she wants to be treated.'
I turned to see Rubber Dolly. The dressage mare was still dressed in her body stocking, black and shimmering, outlining her curves as she moved; it had a Hallowe'en theme, bats and black cats; and was a sharp contrast to the alabaster whiteness of her skin; she wore her pony boots too and a black leather collar but no harness or bridle.
'It sets my heart aflutter just to see it.' Her lips curled into a sultry smile.
The sight of her almost stopped me in my tracks. I was glad Bryony was hooded.
'Miss Carter.' I managed not to stammer.
'Perhaps you'd like to feel it.' She reached out and took my hand and pulling it to her left breast, pressing the heel of my hand to her chest while deliberately guiding my fingers towards the nipple with its prominent dressage piercing. 'My heart, I mean.'
She raised a dark eyebrow archly. She was stunningly, classically beautiful, reminding me of monchrome photographs of forties movie-stars; dark brows, the soft curve of her cheek; those storm grey eyes.
The only colour in her face was her lips; bright and red.
Her fingers curved mine around her breast.
'Or perhaps you'd like to feel something else.'
My cock swelled at her touch and the feel of her firm breast sent a thrill through me.
Though hooded, Bryony clearly knew there was something going on and I felt her press herself against me.
'Bryony always was very possessive.' Rubber Dolly's eyes roved over Bryony's captive body. 'Deliciously dominant.'
I frowned trying to understand her comment but her hand continued to press mine against her breast in a very distracting way.
'She certainly seems to have you well trained.'
'I think it's me who's doing the training.' I smiled quite pleased with myself.
'Just because a woman offers you her body doesn't mean she's giving up control.' She looked down at my hand and squeezed gently forcing my fingers to squeeze her breast.
'No, she's a submissive.' I tried to keep my voice steady despite the excitement of her touch. 'I thought you were a submissive too.'
'The-Cat and Cream might give you a very different impression.'
I was aware of the story or her taking the two blondes in hand after catching them in the school-yard naked and handcuffed and licking whipped cream off each other's bodies. Their presence in the village hitched to Rubber Dolly's double chariot had been the highlight of the summer a year before my arrival.
'So you like to switch roles ?' I asked.
'It's not switching.' She said. 'There's nothing binary about sex; all the kids these days will tell you that.'
'Really ?' I suspected she'd had a few drinks.
'Really !' She encouraged my fingers to play with her nipple. 'I take it you know what a Moebian strip is ?'
'One of those strips of paper that's looped on itself twisted so although it appears to have two sides but it only really has one.'
'Something like that.' She smiled. 'Though I'd expect my year tens to give me a better answer.'
'And...?'
'Dom and sub.' She smiled. 'One and the same.' She reached out with her free hand and began to tease Bryony's right nipple which responded immediately, the flush of pleasure spreading across her chest clearly visible through the bodystocking.'
'Has she had you running in harness yet ?' Rubber Dolly looked at me.
'No. Of course not.'
Rubber Dolly laughed again. 'You should try it some time. It's very liberating.'
'Bryony likes to kept as a slave.' I told her.
She was clearly amused by my discomfort.
'But you've thought about it.' She persisted.
'Of course not.'
Her smile told me she knew I was lying but she didn't say anything.
'Perhaps some people are naturally one or the other.' I said trying to ignore the insecurities I felt dominating Bryony. It wasn't that I was particularly submissive, it was just that it was sometimes hard work being the type of dominant Bryony wanted.
'Perhaps they are.' She used Bryony's nipple ring to pull her closer in. 'But that's a very narrow minded approach.' She leaned forward and, pulling on the ring, licked Bryony's stretched nipple. 'I would say such people are missing out on a whole world of corporeal pleasure.' She lifted her head, lips parted, tongue out. 'Which reminds me, I don't think I've congratulated you on your engagement.'
'Thank you.' I looked down at her realising I still had my hand on her breast.
'You must let me know what I can give you as a wedding gift.' She gave me a suggestive smile then leant in to whisper something to Bryony who stiffened, her lips quivering around the bit gagging her mouth.
'You don't have to make a decision now.'
'I'm sure we'll...think about it.' I said though I'd no idea what the lovely brunette had suggested.
'I'm sure you will.' Miss Carter smiled and gently brushed my hand away from her breast. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go and find Reuben. I'm just dying to tell him to restrain me like you're lovely fiance here.'
She turned away and I watched her go, tail swishing behind her as she went.
As the evening progressed, I tried to keep an eye on Justin; PLT might be the one on the leash but poor Justin was equally hooked and, to be fair to him, the Goose was a shiny leather goddess whose appearance alone commanded worship. I wasn't surprised when the three of them left together or when Justin didn't reappear at breakfast or lunch...
I did get a bit worried when he hadn't texted and didn't show up for his lift to the station that afternoon. I tried calling a few times then tried Goose's number too but didn't get an answer
In the end, I a drove up to the old manor house where she lived. It really was a nice place; Tudor in parts; naturally, it had a stable.
After a bit of hammering on the door, the Goose herself appeared her blonde hair slightly disheveled and her make-up a little smudged. She and Justin had clearly slept in or maybe she and PLThad slept in and... I tried to think of the possibilities.
Goose was wrapped in a white silk robe decorated with pink roses that gave me a nice glimpse of full creamy breasts and dark cleavage; interestingly, she was also wearing a pair or pink wet look patent leather boots which, when she moved and the robe parted slightly, I saw, went up to the thigh. I wondered if she was wearing any more of the outfit a drunken Cat had once waxed so lyrical about in the pub.
'Oh, yeah.' She gave me a predatory smile when I asked if Justin was home. 'He did say something about it last night.' She ran a hand through her hair. 'I guess you'd better come in.'
She lead me into a plush sitting room, her heels clicking on polished wooden floorboards, moving a pair of handcuffs off an expensive looking pink sofa to allow me to sit down. The wallpaper was white with embossed pink roses and the curtains matched.
'I'll go and see if I can get him up.' She said with an arch of her dark eyebrow and a faint smile.
Getting Justin up probably wasn't going to be a problem even if getting him out of bed might be.
When he emerged some twenty minutes later, Justin looked chastened or, perhaps I mean chastised. He was walking stiffly and had what could only have been rope burns on his wrists.
'He's so naughty.' The Goose said with unaccustomed girlishness as she followed him in and Justin turned to look at her with that rabbit-in-headlights expression on his face which turned instantly redder.
The Goose was still in her robe though it was now hanging open to reveal the rest of her kinky little pink outfit: corset with half bra-cups that didn't quite cover her nipples and a little skirt that just about reached the top of her thighs. She was carrying a riding crop; pink naturally, with a little bow on it.
She smiled as she noticed me looking. 'I can give you some lessons too, if you like.' She said tapping her crop onto the palm of her hand.
Even as I declined, I noticed Justin lean down to fiddle with his boot in an attempt to cover the redness on his face.
'Well, if you're sure.' The Goose placed her crop on the coffee table then took a leather bit out of her pocket. It was clearly wet and I could only assume that, until a few minutes ago it had been in my friend's mouth.
Seeing her like this made me wonder if the account fund manager thing was just a cover story; perhaps she worked as a high class dominatrix from the flat she had in London. I knew half a dozen guys who, I suspected, would be more than willing to pay to grovel at her feet.
I assumed Justin had been allowed to do it for free.
I had no idea what part her pert little blonde pony had played.
CHAPTER 5: SLAVE TRAINING
Bryony's legs were shaking. It was the Thursday after the Dryad Festival and we were back into proper pony training which meant wrist and ankle weights and the weighted collar had, once again, become more-or-less permanent fixtures on her body. We'd normally finished by this time in the afternoon and it was dark outside the stable, however, she was doing a little extra today; a mixture of punishment and training for earning a couple of demerits.
It was the end of the afternoon and after a healthy run in harness (and leg weights) she was squatting with her thighs parallel to the ground holding her wrists out at shoulder height, forced to stay in position by a clamp in her clitoris that stopped her straightening her legs and chains from the beam above her connected to her nipple rings to stop her sitting down; to add to her discomfort and ensure she kept her arms out, there were clover clamps on her nipples that were attached via pulley above her head to her weighted wrist cuffs.
She'd been there twenty five minutes and was sweating profusely, steam rising off her body in the chill air of the stable.
Rain began to spatter on the stable roof.
'Keep them up.' I tapped her right biceps with my whip and she glared at me over the large ball gag I'd inserted during the circuit session in the morning when she'd earned the demerits by making some remarks about how hard I was driving her so early in the year. I think sometimes she wanted to be gagged; despite the discomfort, it meant she had no choice but to obey me. I'd made her wear it all day, removing it only briefly once to allow her to drink some water after our first afternoon run.
I checked my watch; twenty seven minutes, I'd told her it would be thirty.
Her arms dropped again, jerking her clamped nipples upwards and she wobbled slightly making her grunt into the gag as the clamp between her legs tugged at her clit.
'Posture !' I brought the whip down on her right thigh.
Twenty eight minutes.
'Ugghhh !.' Her eyes focussed ahead as she tried to steady herself.
I walked around her again, throughly enjoying the sight of her naked body; shiny with heat and sweat; her back marked by the whip. I could smell her scent.
The air was getting colder, outside the rain became heavier.
Twenty nine.
'Nnnggghh !' She moved her head and I could see her trying to work her cramped muscles, trying to meet the target I had set.
If only all my athletes were as determined as this.
'Thirty minutes.' I reached out and freed her nipples.
Her arms flew towards her chest, hugging her breasts.
It was just as well she was gagged.
Then I freed her clit.
'Nggghhhh !'
She straightened her legs.
I gave her a moment then coaxed her arms away from her breasts and unclipped the chains from her nipple rings.
'Down !'
She dropped to all fours.
'Walk to heel.'
I stepped out into the rain and she followed me, crawling on her hands and knees across the courtyard towards the kitchen door.
'Stay.' I opened the door and stepped inside, turning to ensure she was kneeling up with her hands behind her back, head bowed.
The rain was falling more heavily and the wind starting to circle in gusts in the yard, stirring her wet hair. She would soon be shivering.
'Do you need to pee ?'
She looked up, blue yes wide, anxious over the straps of the harness gag, mouth stretched around the ball; nodded once.
'Very well.'
She crawled to the drain and came up onto the balls of her feet, knees wide. She'd told me she loved the humiliation of doing this in front of me. Despite the heat of her skin I thought her cheeks coloured slightly but then she bowed her head.
In a moment, a jet of steaming liquid splashed into the drain beneath her.
I waited, watching her until she looked up.
She was definitely blushing.
'Inside.'
She gave me a grateful look and scampered in through the door.
'Go and shower.' I told her. 'I'll join you in a moment.'
She smiled round the gag and crawled towards the stairs looking back to make sure I was watching as, still on all fours, she began to climb them.
I gave her a few minutes, taking the chance to grab a drink then went up.
There's something about seeing water running across Bryony's freckled skin, droplets beading, coalescing, trickling down her nubile body; whether it be rain or sweat or when we are together in the shower. Showering with her is something I particularly enjoy; there's something about the sensation of warm water running over us; her standing there naked aside from her collar and cuffs.
Entering the bathroom, I could see her silhouette through the frosted glass, her pert body side on to me; her small breasts and the tight curve of her bottom; her head was back, face turned up to the shower; it looked like she was trying to drink the water around her gag as it splashed across her face.
I undressed and slid in beside her enjoying the way she looked at me; the need in her blue eyes, the expectancy; noticing how she fought against the instinctive desire to push herself against me, making herself stand awaiting my command. She wavered for a moment caught between desire and her submissive nature. Then, slowly she slipped her hands behind her back and bowed her head, the water running over her wet hair and streaming down her body.
I teased her for a moment but I knew she could see my stiff cock; I guessed she was looking at it hungrily. If she wasn't gagged, I'd probably have made her go down and suck me off but, though I could have removed it, the gag made me pause and think about what I wanted. I reached up and toyed with her nipple rings, watching her little buds stiffen; the sensitive flesh was bruised from the clamps and the punishment they'd endured in the last few days harsh training.
My hands slid down her body, her skin, slick with soap, was warm now, pink and glowing from the heat of the water but she shivered slightly as I slipped a finger into the ring on her weighted collar and gently pulled her towards me. She took a small step forwards but still she kept her head bowed and her hands behind he back.
I lifted her chin and she looked up at me, her eyes shining.
I pulled her in and kissed her around the gag.
The self imposed tension melted away and she flung herself at me, hands sliding up around my neck and pulling my face towards hers as she strained against the gag, pushing her lips against mine, her hips pressing urgently against me; making it clear despite her enforced silence that she wanted me inside her. I held her like this for a few moment and then pulled her head back.
'Wash me.'
She nodded and then soaping her hands then began to run them over my body. I knew she enjoyed touching my body like this; something that was so frequently denied her because she was usually in bondage when we made love. She kept her head down but I could see her smiling around her gag as she ran her fingers over my shoulders; I'm a sports coach; I have a pretty ripped body. She moved behind me, hands running over my chest, the barest brush of her nipple rings against my back and then she embraced me, her breasts pushing against my back as her fingers teased my nipples. Her hands moved down my body and I felt her cheek rest on my shoulder.
My hand went up automatically to stroke her hair.
Then she took hold of my shaft, caressing it gently, milking it, her fingers teasing my balls.
When her hands moved away, I nearly commanded them back but I knew there was more to come as she knelt beside me running the soap over my legs, her face nuzzling against my thigh mere inches from my cock.
She moved lower, bending forward, brushing her gagged lips over my feet in a gesture of total submission.
Then she knelt up in front of me, her face in front of my cock, her hands falling to her side.
She clearly expected me to remove her gag and use her mouth or, perhaps, she hoped I would do more for her.
'You've been a bad girl.' I told her.
She nodded submissively, not looking up; her body shuddering with the excitement at being treated like this. It was a part of her submission I enjoyed too.
She knelt up, taking my cock in her hands and rubbing it against her cheek, her fingers expertly teasing my balls as she toyed with me.
It didn't take long and as my cock spasmed, she leant back ensuring I came across her face and breasts. She was just outside the jet of the shower and I could see the thick white liquid running across her body.
I knew what she wanted next but it would take a few minutes.
She knelt waiting patiently, as I washed myself down.
Then, when I was sufficiently soft I pissed on her, washing the cum off her body.
She came down the stairs about twenty minutes later still naked and gagged.
I'd left her to wash herself and the look in her eyes told me she'd been playing with herself too and had quite probably cum while she'd been doing it. At the bottom of the stairs she dropped to her knees and crawled across the kitchen then knelt up beside the table slipping her hands behind her back.
'Behind your head.'
Her shoulders were probably aching from the training earlier but she obeyed immediately, pushing her little breasts forward and spreading her legs wide. I picked up the crop from the table and brought it down on her breasts with firm a slap to show her I'd guessed what she'd been doing. Her blush and her smile told me I was correct.
I finished cooking dinner leaving her to kneel on the hard stone flags and served out two plates.
'Remove your gag.'
She reached behind her head, struggling with the buckles; her shoulders were probably burning and the weights on her wrists weren't making it any easier. Eventually, she managed to do undo the strap and then she eased the huge red ball out of her mouth. She'd been wearing the gag almost constantly for eight or nine hours now and she gave a little cry as the ball came out into her hand, saliva running over her lip and spattering onto the floor. Her jaw must have felt like her shoulders and I saw her wince as she closed it.
'Keep you arms up.'
A flicker of pain crossed her face as she lifted her hands, still holding the gag and put them behind her head.
I put her water bowl on the floor and she licked her lips with an expression of longing. Then I took the gag from her hands, the leather was soaking and the ball slick with her saliva.
'Drink.'
'Thank you, Master.' She dropped forward as eager, I'm sure, to rest her shoulders as to slake her thirst.
I watched her for a few moments as she lapped at the water and then walked behind her admiring the tight curve of her bottom, criss-crossed with bruises from the whip; her dark brown ring was puckered, tight and enticing and her glistening pink sex gaped below it.
She knew I was looking and lifted her bottom higher, spreading her knees a little wider on the floor and the lips of her sex parted invitingly. It was tempting; Bryony was always tempting, but we had all evening.
I fed her while she knelt beside me, using my fingers and sometimes a fork. When I'd finished, I made her lick my fingers which she did eagerly and lasciviously.
I sometimes missed the days when I held her in my arms to feed her; enjoying the warmth of her body nestled against mine; I did it occasionally but mostly she liked it this way, Master feeding his slave.
After dinner, I left her to wash up; I had cooked, after all; and went into the sitting room, where I dropped onto the sofa and switched on the TV.
When she came to join me, crawling again, she stopped in front of me on all fours to allow me to rest my legs on her back.
She had replaced the gag; a sure sign that she was horny as hell; it must have been pretty painful for her to push it back into her mouth again. There was a part of me that would have preferred to have her in my arms and, I suppose as Master, I should have insisted on it but this is how she was when we were training, completely focussed, utterly obedient and she expected me to dominate her completely.
We (I) watched TV for an hour as she knelt almost unmoving save her breathing and the occasional slight stretch when her muscles started to stiffen. In the end, I commanded her up beside me, pulling her into my arms, where she snuggled warm and soft in my lap.
I held her close, breathing in the scent of her hair, still slightly damp from the shower and the soft musk of her body that had become so familiar.
'Your drooling on my shirt.' I said as I felt a patch of wetness on her chest.
She jerked, moving her head quickly; she was clearly almost asleep.
'U .oo..y .ash.a !' The gag was huge and made her speech completely unintelligible.
She tried to climb back down on the floor but I held on to her and then made her sit still while I undid the gag. She whimpered again as the ball came out of her mouth.
'I'm shorry, Masder.' Her tongue slurred her words with its newfound freedom.
'You will be when I punish you.' I tried to say it lightly, teasing her but she stiffened.
'Yes, Master.' Her expression was serious. 'Slave is a bad girl.'
She was clearly angry with herself for falling asleep though there was no reason to be; it wasn't weakness; I'd been working her hard for the last four days and she'd spent three cold nights in the stable, one in her punishment cage.
I pulled her towards me and kissed her cheek sensing her reluctance to engage with me in any other way than as a slave with her Master.
'Slave.'
'Master ?' She turned to look at me and I kissed her on the mouth pulling her more tightly against me. Her body was deliciously firm and, after a moment, she was once again eager.
'You should be punishing me, Sir.' She said as we came up for air.
'Oh, don't worry.' I said with a smile. 'I plan to do that.'
She smiled, her eyes softening and I wanted to tell her again how much more I loved her when she was like this, submissive and loving rather than the cold obedient slave she made herself become. Perhaps, if I was lucky, she'd be deliberately naughty.
I thought of my conversation with Miss Carter.
Then I remembered she'd whispered something to Bryony.
'What do Rubber Dolly say to you in the pub ?'
She looked confused for a moment and then clearly remembered.
'Oh, nothing important.' She looked away as she spoke.
'Are you lying to Master ?'
'No, Sir.'
She clearly was. She was smirking about it too.
'That's two demerits !' I told her.
A smile spread across her face and I feared it was an excuse to slip back into her slave persona. Instead she slid her arms around my neck and kissed me full on the lips.
It was wonderful.
We were both breathless when she finally stopped.
'You can't get around me.' I warned.
'You can give me a hundred demerits, Master and cage me naked in the stable all winter but I'm not going to tell you.'
'Really ?' I reached for the whip on the sofa.
'It's a wedding surprise.' She said quickly. 'Sir.'
'Well, I guess I'll just have to wait to be surprised.' I kissed her gently. 'And you're drooling again.'
My trousers had damp marks on the crotch.
'Actually, Master, I think that's you.'
To fair to her, it was probably both of us.
I tossed her unceremoniously onto the floor and stood up taking off my belt looping it around her neck over her collar like a choke leash. Then, I lead her out into the hall and up the stairs to the bedroom with her crawling on all fours behind me.
In the bedroom, she knelt up placing her hands behind her head and thrusting her little breasts out.
'Sir ?' She said as I began to undress,
I knew what she was going to say.
'Yes ?'
'You could give me a collar, I mean a proper collar, like Pretty's.'
'You have a collar.'
She touched the one currently locked around her neck, it was thick, weighted, part of her training regimen.
'You know what I mean, Sir.' She fingered the collar. 'Something permanent... I'm sure Tom would weld it shut.'
'Most girls just want a nice ring.'
'I'm not like most girls, Sir.'
I removed the belt from her neck. 'Up on the bed.'
'Yes, Sir.' She scampered up.
'Use the wrist cuffs.'
'Yes, Sir.'
There was a set of shackles locked to a ring bolted through the headboard of the bed; they has a longish chain making it easy for her to lock them around her wrists herself; there were similar ones on each end of the footboard. One Sunday she'd taken it upon herself to ensure she was suitably prepared for Master. She'd been in London at a shoot with Terry and had been sending me selfies of her in kinky rubber and leather outfits; there were a few that clearly weren't selfies too unless she'd found a way of taking them with her nose and in one she was muzzled so even that option was out. I was in Birmingham at an athletics meeting. Then, that evening, she'd sent a link to my phone. 'Don't be too long.' She said. 'I can't get out by myself.'
And there she was, naked, lying back on the bed, legs spread, ankles shackled, wrists cuffed above her head; there were clamps on her nipples and she'd collared and gagged herself. The link was to a web-cam set to show her, helpless and waiting.
It had been a bit of a shame that there was a traffic jam that day and it took me nearly five hours to get down the M5 from Birmingham.
She was utterly desperate by one o'clock in the morning when I'd finally reached her, but mostly for a pee.
We'd used the shackles a few times since though mostly when I went out to the shops than further afield.
I watched her lie back and shackle her wrists to the bed.
She was right, she wasn't like most girls.
I took some rope and passed it through the ring in the weighted cuff she wore on her right ankle then passed it through the ring that held the shackles she'd just locked around her wrists; then I did the same with her left ankle. Then, I pulled her ankles up so her feet were held over her face.
'This is vary undignified, you know, Sir.'
She was lying on her back with her legs folded up and her bottom exposed. I suspected many girls might find it uncomfortable.
'It's very functional though.' I smacked her bottom.
She giggled.
I sat down beside her and smacked her again.
'A girl could get to like this.'
I gave her about a dozen slaps; not a particularly harsh punishment but I had other things on my mind and she knew it.
'You are obsessed by anal sex.' She said, her face flushed.
I smacked her again.
'Alright then but just get it over with.'
'You are very impudent for a slave.'
'If you gave me collar, I might be more obedient.' She retorted, squirming.
'Perhaps I like my slaves to be a little rebellious.'
'Slaves is it now ?' She continued to struggle. 'How many of us do you want.'
'I thought a pair might be quite nice.'
'Funny you should say that what with Pretty coming to stay for the week.'
'Yes.' I smiled at the thought of having the little blonde to play with alongside Bryony while Goose was up in London. I'd minded The-Cat for her a couple of times during the previous year but it was the first time she had asked me to mind her latest muse. The thought of having the lovely young blonde as a willing pet between the shafts of my chariot and at my beck and call was certainly exciting. She really was gorgeous, those green eyes and that firm young body still gently rounded in places...and those surprisingly large firm breasts.
I'd been rather cautious when Goose had left The-Cat with me and really hadn't taken advantage of the situation despite Goose's suggestion that I use her as if she were my own. I'd patted her bottom and stroked her hair; I'd even handled her pretty intimately; it's hard not to when you're strapping a pony girl into harness. I'd enjoyed watching her perform too. However, although the suggestion that I use her had been there, I'd felt uncomfortable doing this in front of Bryony. My beloved, on the other hand, had shown no such scruples and I'd caught the pair of them 'hard at it' in the stables on more than one occasion.
Bryony had teased me about my 'chivalry' afterwards but I think she'd been flattered in a way. It was shortly after this that we had decided to tie the knot (pun intended). Incase you are wondering, it was her who asked me; she had, after all, been down on her knees anyway.
CHAPTER 6: PRETTY IN PINK
The Goose dropped Pretty Little Thing off early on the Monday morning. I heard the huge Nissan pick up truck pulling into the stable yard and went out to meet her, smiling as the Goose in her power suit and heels swung down from the cab. The Goose scrubbed up well, blonde hair braided, pale lip gloss, eyeliner and a very expensive looking pink suit.
'She's in the back.' Goose gestured to a square box about two feet high covered in a tarpaulin.
It was clear I was going to have to climb up and get her.
Opening the tailgate, I climbed into the back, undid the restraining straps and pulled off the tarpaulin.
Wow !
The little blonde was locked in a cage, naked save her pink enameled collar, crouching on her knees with her wrists shackled behind her back; her ankles were shackled too and she looked out with huge green, slightly tearful eyes over a thick black leather muzzle that covered most of her face.
With some difficulty, I lifted her down.
'She was a bad girl yesterday so I locked her in her cage overnight.' Goose told me matter-of-factly. 'If she's naughty it's the best punishment. She enjoys the whip a little too much.'
Goose had obviously tried the whip or, more accurately, the cane looking at the marks on PLT's bottom that clearly weren't from training.
'Be a good girl for mummy !' Goose squatted beside her helpless pet and slid her fingers through the bars.
PLT nuzzled them.
'Thanks for agreeing to look after her, Mike.' The Goose stood up brushing her hands and looked at me. 'She can't be trusted on her own. Cane her if you need to and use her as you see fit. I'll be back on Friday.
She pulled a bag out of the back of the truck.
'This is her tack.' She said. 'Make sure she cleans it after use.'
PLT pouted as far as a girl who's face is almost entirely hidden can.
And with that, Goose climbed into her pick up and drove off.
I looked down at the helpless blonde kneeling somewhat dejectedly in her cage then squatted down. The bolt to the cage was across but not padlocked and, as far as I could see the keys to the girl's shackles were clipped to her right nipple.
I threw back the bolt.
'Use her as you see fit.' Goose had said.
I was going to enjoy this.
'Out.'
PLT crawled forward wiggling her shoulders and then knelt up stretching her back.
'Stand up.'
She stood, placing her feet about six inches apart, shoulders back, head bowed and pushing her breasts forward; her ankle chain hung slightly slack.
I undid the tack bag and pulled out Pretty's sleeve and harness; as a racing mare, her harness was like Bryony's only providing a little more, alright, a lot more support for her breasts (D-cup, Bryony had informed me, considerably bigger than Bryony's little fried eggs).
It was lovely stuff; Goose certainly hadn't spared any expense on her pony's tack. It was pink, of course; Goose seemed to love pink, somewhat in contrast to the 'one of the boys' ladette behavior she liked to adopt.
Shaking out the straps of the harness, I hefted it over PLT's head, settling the shoulder straps in place and then pulling the chest strap in and positioning breast rings.
'You'd better make sure you strap them in nice and tight.' A voice behind me said. 'Don't want them bouncing all over the place.'
PLT shot Bryony a glare.
I turned and scowled. 'Silence.'
'Yes, Master.' Bryony assumed the model of contrition and dropped to her knees.
I unclipped the keys from PLTs right nipple drawing an audible gasp from the pretty blonde. Her nipple was bruised where the clamp had been and I guessed it had been there all night. Then I guided her breasts into the breast rings and ensured the leather cups supported them. The cups came to just below her nipples and were designed for use with a mare who had piercings although, as yet PLT's nipples remained 'virgin'. There was an unwritten rule in Mares that a 'pony', a girl in her first year between the shafts, was not allowed to have piercings. PLT was twenty and had raced twice but it wasn't unusual for a girl to wait a few years before taking the plunge; Morrisey piercings were large and, once there, were pretty much there for life. Bryony had not had hers done until she was twenty six.
Pretty's breasts were delightfully firm and the nipples swelled as I handled them; bits of me swelled too.
I waited for a sarcastic comment but none came.
I tightened the chest straps and then the girdle to hold the harness in place and then fastened the thigh straps; PLT's thighs were deliciously firm. Then I removed her shackles and slid the single sleeve up her arms. I'd noticed Goose always did her slave's single sleeve up to full tightness, 'bedroom tight' as Bryony called it.
Bryony watched as I laced it up and I could see her pushing her elbows together behind her back.
Then, I had her step into her pony boots, in shiny pink of course, and laced them up to her thighs.
Finally, I bridled her; I think this is my favourite part of tacking a pony, pulling the bit between her teeth and tightening the straps. PLT held the rubber covered bar firmly in the teeth as I adjusted the harness and pulled her blonde hair into a pony tail.
When I'd finished, I had the perfect blonde pony, standing obediently in harness rocking slightly on her toes, her breath just visible as steam emerging from around her bit between her gently parted lips. I turned to find Bryony watching me. She was still on her knees naked and from the paleness of her skin, clearly starting to feel the cold
'Well, don't just kneel there watching me.' I said. 'Go and get your tack too.'
'Yes, Master.' She practically sprinted to the stables.
I turned and looked at the pretty blonde standing beside me. She was about the same height as Bryony, a little over five feet but slightly stockier; giving her enough flesh that it dimpled beautifully around the harness straps and breasts that, as I've already mentioned were a good handful, she had big red nipples that were, at that moment, stiffly erect, it was, afterall, a fairly chilly morning. Her skin was honey tanned and currently covered in goosebumps and her hair gathered now into the ponytail, hanging just below her shoulders was straw coloured. Like all good mares, she was smoothly shaved.
And, of course, she was now completely helpless in the single sleeve.
It was hard to resist touching her.
Fortunately, before temptation overtook me, Bryony returned and I buckled her into harness too.
Then, I lead them to the double chariot.
They were clearly excited as I clipped their harnesses to the shafts and traces, glancing at each other, rocking on their boots or, perhaps they were just cold.
I climbed into the chariot and flicked the whip catching Bryony on the bottom as I shook the reins and my two lovely ponies stepped out pulling me behind them.
There is something beautiful about driving a pair, especially when they are running in step. Mares is very much driven singly in the village and, as far as I am aware, the chariot I was driving was the only one built for two. As I've mentioned, village gossip said it had originally been made for Rubber Dolly for use with Whipped Cream and 'The-Cat'.
The story went that Miss Carter, the village schoolteacher (also known as ultra-hot dressage mare, Rubber Dolly) had caught them sneaking into the schoolyard one summer. Before anyone goes off to inform social services, I would point out that the girls had both left school that summer and were both eighteen !
Anyway...
I'd learnt from Cassie at Cream's welcome home party that the name 'Whipped Cream' had come from a game she and 'Pussy' (aka 'The-Cat-That-Got-The-Cream') were caught playing involving a can of squirty cream and four pairs of handcuffs. Needless-to-say, both girls were naked at the time they were found and, thanks to the handcuffs, rather intimately entwined. It wasn't clear why the lovely Miss Carter had gone into the school out of term time but Bryony hinted that she had a locker there in which she kept some interesting 'toys' and the kinky brunette might have been going there to play a few games of her own. However, she'd discovered the girls, former students of hers but now very much grown up, and apparently changed her plans.
From what Cassie told me, the two blondes had spent the summer as virtual slaves of their former teacher enjoying the benefits of her considerable experience in a number of fields that went well beyond trigonometry and algebra. She'd trained them both as ponies in preparation for the upcoming race even asking Tom to rig up the double chariot so the lovely pair could run side by side as she put them through their paces. I'd also been told that nobody had raised objections to Kate and Tessa (to give them the names they'd been Christened with) practicing openly before the event and that, when the pair were out prancing together the village virtually ground to a halt. There were a number of near miss road traffic collisions which probably explained why the committee were now so rigourous in their enforcement of the rule about training in public.
Miss Carter had been planning to drive the better of them in the race and it became clear that Tessa (soon to be know as 'Whipped Cream') had the edge. However, both showed equal enthusiasm and the lovely Rubber Dolly knew that Kate (The-Cat) would be disappointed not to race. In the final couple of weeks, she thus trained Kate as a field mare.
Neither won, of course, but both girls entered their first Mares day competition under the whip of Miss Carter and (rumour has it) thanked their mistress diligently for the opportunity she had given them. She was clearly enjoying their relationship as much as the girls were and, perhaps it might have continued except that, at that stage, Reuben (Rubber Dolly's master) returned from Germany whence her periodically disappeared. Miss Carter went back to being Rubber Dolly and the girls were left to fend for themselves. There was a sneaking suspicion that Kate would be the dominant one but for some reason it ended up the other way around leading to speculation that when 'The-Cat' got 'the Cream', she'd been forced to lick it from between Tessa's legs.
Whatever the details of the story, I did know that after ensuring her domination over 'The-Cat', Whipped Cream had subsequently gone off for a gap year in Venezuela (leaving her 'Pussy' in the care of Goose) but had heard about the Buenos Aires PonyGirl Polo Club and relocated with all possible speed to Argentina.
I trained Bryony and PLT hard and, at the end of the day planned to stable them together. It seemed unfair to take Bryony to bed and leave PLT chained in the stable, besides, the thought of them snuggling together for warmth was rather appealing. I was pretty confident that Bryony was up for it.
Perhaps, if they were good girls, I'd give them a blanket to share. (There is a heater in the stable, it's not good but it stops Bryony's water from freezing over).
So, when I released them from harness, I left them sleeved though I did loosen these a little. (Bryony clearly didn't want to be outdone by her visitor and both had trained all day with their elbows touching). Then, I left them kneeling in the stable, Bryony chained by her nipples and PLT by her collar.
I'd made a stew at the weekend and reheated this; then I took it across to the stable in two metal bowls that were clearly designed for use by pets. It was getting cold and the stew was steaming when I placed it on the floor infront of them; both girls were starting to shiver, their sweat cold now on their bodies and they were hungry from a day's training. I watched them crouch eagerly over the hot food on their knees blowing on it and sucking chunks of meat into their mouths even though they were hot.
Their complete submissiveness was a joy to watch.
I was rather coming round buying Bryony a proper collar.
'Sir.' Pretty Little Thing looked up at me with her lovely green eyes.
She was so beautiful, so submissive and, somehow angelic; or would have been if she didn't have her dinner plastered across her face.
'You may speak ?'
'Sir, Mistress told me to thank you for looking after me by sucking your cock every night.'
'Did she now ?' I hadn't expected that.
I glanced over at Bryony who was still crouched over her meal though her body was suddenly tense and she wasn't eating.
'I think your Mistress is being a little too generous.' I told her. 'I'm happy to look after you.'
Bryony bent and took another mouthful of food but I could tell she was listening intently.
'But, Sir.' Pretty Little Thing blushed. 'Mistress said it was something her slave needs to learn and that you would teach me how to do it properly.'
Bryony choked, spraying a mouthful of stew across the stable floor.
'Did she now ?' I looked anxiously at Bryony as she began to cough violently.
'Yes, Sir.' PLT continued demurely. 'She said she would put my skills to the test when she got back and punish me if I was no good at it.'
Justin appeared to have landed on his feet !
Bryony's coughing fit continued unabated and for a moment I feared she was going to need the Heimlich manoeuvre but after a few moments she managed to catch her breath as PLT knelt with her head bowed like a good little slave girl.
'If I may speak too, Sir...' Bryony knelt up with her head bowed, her breathing still a little rapid. 'I would hate to see my sister in bondage punished, Sir. And it is a useful skill for a slave girl to master.'
I looked down at her but she kept her head bowed.
'So, may I suck your cock, Sir ?' PLT looked up and smiled shyly.
How could I refuse ?
I opened my flies and slipped my cock out. Not withstanding the fact I was feeding two chained naked girls, the thought of what one of them had just offered to do had made it swell and I saw PLT look up at it with mixture of anticipation and anxiety.
I watched her part those lovely plump lips as she leaned towards me.
She really was beautiful with her little heart shaped face and those lovely green eyes. It would have been perfect if she didn't have stew smeared across her face and my fiance wasn't watching.
Awkwardly she took the end of my cock in her mouth and licked it with her tongue.
Goose had been right; the girl clearly had a lot to learn.
Even so, as she slid her lips down my shaft, little ripples of pleasure cascaded through me.
Then, with my cock deep in her mouth, she stopped and looked up at me before pulling back and sliding down my shaft again.
I tried very hard not to look at Bryony.
'Sir ?' Bryony said suddenly.
I turned to look at her.
'Would you mind if I gave my fellow slave some instruction.'
'That would be acceptable.' I knew there was tension in my voice but I could't help it.
Bryony shuffled over on her knees, the chain to her nipple rings clinking on the floor.
Her face was covered in stew too.
'Like this when you start.' She said and ran her tongue down the side of my cock.
Pretty Little Thing let go of my shaft and leaned over to run her tongue down the other side of my shaft.
Fuck !
They knelt there for a few moments, teasing me and clearly teasing each other with their tongues playing together around my shaft.
'Now underneath.' Bryony slid her tongue along the bottom of my cock.
PLT followed her.
I swallowed hard.
'Most men like to have their balls licked too.' Bryony nuzzled my shaft with her cheek and lapped at my balls.
PLT did the same.
'Gently !'
My cock was being squeezed between their cheeks.
'Now you can take him inside you.'
Bryony demonstrated once then her lovely pupil took over.
My cock twitched violently.
'Gently !'
PLT slid backwards and forward, her lips apparently gliding over my shaft with a gossamer light touch.
'Very good.' Bryony smirked. 'Now, take him a little deeper.'
'Good girl.'
'And a little deeper.'
'Deep breath.'
'Deeper.'
The little blonde's chin nudged my balls and I felt my tip slide down her throat.
I couldn't hold on any longer.
My cum began to erupt into the kneeling girl's mouth and I heard her gasp of surprise, pulling back. Released from her lips, my cock swung, spurting wildly, spraying cum over her face and hair and then across Bryony's face too.
'Oh !' Pretty Little Thing looked around, shocked as the warm liquid ran down her face. 'Did I do that.'
Her smile said she knew exactly who'd done it.
'We may need to work on your ending.' Bryony said with a wink.
Pretty Little Thing laughed. 'It's a lot easier than pleasuring a girl.'
'Yeah.' Bryony said. 'Men are fairly simple creatures.'
CHAPTER 7: THREESOME
The week continued in much the same manner. During the day I put two hot wiling and gorgeously fit pony girls through their paces and at night I put two hot wiling and gorgeously fit pony girls through their paces.
I hadn't meant for any repeat of the first evening after training on the second day and had resolved to take Bryony to bed leaving PLT in the stables. After feeding my ponies, I chained Pretty Little Thing by her collar to the ring in the floor leaving her naked but unrestrained and could see her glancing at the blanket that lay folded in the corner as I prepared to leave.
'It would be unfair to leave her all alone, Master.' Bryony had said as I commanded her to walk to heel. 'If you're going to leave Pretty here, I should stay too.'
Having watched my two ponies in action all day I was a horny as hell and certainly wasn't about to let them have all the fun.
'Sir.' Bryony said. 'Pretty's Mistress said she was to be your slave completely this week.'
'Did Goose say anything else ?' I asked.
PLT looked up, her green eyes wide with projected innocence. 'That she expected me to loose my virginity, Sir.' She said.
'You're a virgin ?' I almost choked this time.
PLT gave me one of her cute dimpled smiles. 'Only with a man, Sir.'
Once again, I could hardly refuse.
They crawled beautifully to heel across the yard, both naked except for their collars and Bryony's weighted cuffs. Then they followed me into the house and up the stairs to the bedroom.
'Would you like us to shower, Sir ?' Bryony asked as they knelt back side by side in the kitchen floor, sliding their hands behind their backs. There was mischievous quality to her voice. 'Or do you like dirty girls ?'
The two of them giggled at the way she said 'dirty'.
I should probably have given her a demerit but I liked her suggestion of bedding two 'dirty' girls. I also liked the idea of showering with them too or perhaps watching them shower together but I wasn't sure I'd last the distance; my cock was already straining at my jeans.
'Are you going to tie us up, Sir ?' PLT looked up with one of those 'butter wouldn't melt' expressions, all big green eyes and parted lips.
'I could tie Pretty if you'd like me to, Sir.' Bryony said rather too eagerly.
'That would be fun, Sir.' PLT fluttered her lashes.
Bryony's red single sleeve lay on the kitchen table and I tossed it to her. Still on her knees she crawled behind the kneeling blonde.
Though it's normally me putting the sleeve on her, Bryony was clearly very adept at applying it to someone else and I watched as she quickly slid it over her fellow slave's arms, then tightened it and adjusted the shoulder straps gratuitously playing with the blonde's nipples as she did so. By the time she's finished, PLT was panting, her chest and face flushed and her nipples were twice their normal size.
'Oh, I just love being tied up, Sir.' PLT gushed. 'Especially like this.'
She shook her shoulders for emphasis and I watched her breasts wobble.
'Perhaps I should get the other sleeve and restrain you now.' I said to Bryony as she knelt beside the little blonde.
'I was thinking it would be much more fun for all of us if I had my hands free.'
'Should we undress you now, Sir ?' PLT asked.
'Let's go upstairs first.'
'Yes, Sir.' The chorused.
Without asking, Bryony stood and picked up her leash which she clipped to PLT's collar.
'Come along, Slave !' She said to the kneeling blonde.
'Yes, Mistress.'
I followed them up the stairs.
In the bedroom, Bryony stood behind me, reaching round to undo my shirt buttons while PLT crawled forward and used her teeth to undo my belt with surprising skill. Then Bryony pulled down my shirt and PLT got to work on my fly buttons.
'She spends a lot of time without the use of her hands.' Bryony whispered in my ear. Perhaps if you restrained me more, it could develop my oral skills.' She nibbled my ear as her hand extracted my cock from my boxers even before PLT pulled them down.
I could smell the sweat of their bodies, especially Bryony's musk. I'd fucked her dozens of times when she'd been hot and sweating from training. She wasn't the first girl I'd done it to either; quite a few of the athletes I've coached get very horny after training sessions and there's something deliciously dirty about the taste of salt as you rake your tongue over a girl's hot sweating body.
Then, I took them to bed, lying back with one of them on either side of me, stretching my arms up above my head as they pressed themselves against me.
'Would Sir like to be restrained too ?' Bryony asked saucily as she nibbled once again at my ear.
The cuffs that Bryony used to 'prepare' herself for me were in easy reach.
'I'm fine thank you, Slave.' I told her firmly although the thought was appealing.
'Do you like to be tied too, Sir ?' PLT asked innocently as she pressed herself against me.
'Do you tie your mistress up ?' I countered, quite intrigued to hear the answer.
'Oh no, Sir.' PLT was clearly quite shocked. 'But she does play bondage games your friend.' She rubbed her thigh against mine, nudging it against my cock. 'He's very submissive.'
'Pretty !' Bryony warned. 'I think I should have gagged you too.'
'Sorry, Mistress.' PLT sounded suitably chastised but I was a little stunned at the ease with which she called Bryony 'Mistress.'
I might have said something but at that moment PLT's thigh brushed my cock again and she kissed the side of my chin.
'Sir is very bristly.'
'Pretty !' Bryony admonished. 'I'm sorry, Sir. Shall I gag her.'
'No. I'm rather enjoying our little chat.'
'Yes, Sir.' Bryony tried to sound demure but she stiffened slightly; perhaps disappointed at not to be allowed to gag the little blonde or, perhaps, there was something she didn't want me to find out.
PLT moved her lips to the side of my neck and Bryony squirmed down the bed, wriggling onto her belly and kissing my right nipple, her hand sliding over my chest where it found PLT's nipple.
'Do men have sensitive nipples too ?' PLT asked.
'Master's are quite sensitive.' Bryony told her.
'Justin squirms when Mistress uses clamps on him.' PLT told us. 'After a couple of hours last weekend, he begged Mistress to take them off.'
'Men are wimps.' Bryony licked my right nipple and I jumped confirming her comment.
PLT transferred her lips to my left nipple.
The girls worked their way down my body using their lips and tongues though Bryony's hands spent a good deal of time on PLT's body too. They finished up with PLT licking my cock while Bryony held her from behind, with one hand on her nipples and the other stroking her pussy while nibbling at her neck. I began to wonder just how much they got up to when Bryony was in the care of Goose.
'I think it's time you submitted yourself to Master.' Bryony said.
PLT smiled. 'Yes, Mistress.'
'Assuming Master doesn't mind.' Bryony said.
'Master doesn't mind in the slightest.'
Bryony knelt up and helped PLT to her knees, positioning her over my cock then she guided her down, reaching between her legs to take hold of my shaft and using it to tease the blonde's labia. They were very wet.
'Gently.' Bryony instructed.
'Yes, Mistress.' PLT's voice was unsteady with arousal though this probably had less to do with my presence and more with what Bryony had been doing to her for the last twenty minutes.
Kneeling behind her across my legs Bryony reached round in front of her to grasp my cock again. The fingers of her other hand then went back to teasing PLT's clit.
Women are so good at multitasking !
'Ohhhh !' PLT was very close to orgasm. 'I think i'm going to cum.'
Bryony's right hand stilled and PLT panted gently.
'Sorry, Mistress.' The blonde closed her eyes still fighting to stay in control. 'And, Master.' She added as an afterthought.
Bryony smiled at me over PLT's shoulder. 'And you think I'm submissive.' She whispered.
Slowly, Bryony pushed PLT onto my cock.
'Ohhhh !' PLT whimpered as she slid down onto me.
I was pretty close too.
'Please can I cum ?' PLT opened her eyes.
'Only if you want to be punished.' Bryony's right hand was free now and it went immediately to PLT's nipples.
'Mistress.' PLT gasped. 'Please.'
Bryony held her close and begin it move up and down on her knees pulling the girl with her, making her rise and fall with her pussy stretched around my cock.
It was heaven !
PLT came quickly, throwing back her head and howling as she shuddered violently. I could feel her internal muscles spasming around my shaft and then I spurted up into her too, arching my back to push myself deeper inside her. This just made the blonde howl louder and a second orgasm ripped through her. Bryony did the rest, continuing to tease the helpless girl, tweaking her nipples and playing with her clit as she told her what a slut she was and how she was going to be punished for cumming without permission. The effect was to force another orgasm and then another from the blonde's helpless body until she couldn't take anymore.
Finally, PLT's head fell forwards and her body slumped. she was panting hard, her face red and her hair disheveled. Bryony held her as she recovered.
'Where the fuck did you learn to do that ?' I asked.
Bryony shrugged. 'I've done porn. I know what men want.'
After giving PLT a few moments to recover, Bryony helped the exhausted blonde down onto the floor and clipped the chain at the foot of the bed to her collar. Then with a surprising economy of movement she hooded and gagged the little blonde, bound her ankles and, after kissing her goodnight, covered her with a blanket.
Then she crept back into bed.
'I'm hoping Master has a little energy left for his devoted slave.'
She wrapped herself around me, naked save the weighted cuffs and collar.
Watching my fiance bind and gag the little blonde had started something and when she slid a hand down to tease my cock back to life, it responded. She played with me until I was fully erect, her hand sliding over it; it was slick and wet with PLT's juices and my cum; then she slid down the bed and slipped into her mouth giving it a few sucks just to make sure she had my full attention.
'Blondes.' She said as she gave my stiff shaft a final lick. 'They taste so bland don't you think.'
'I hadn't really thought about it.'
'God !' She rolled her eyes. 'Men are so unobservant.'
I watched her reach for the bedside table and pick up a set of handcuffs then lock her wrists behind her back.
'Can't let the blondes have all the fun.' She said, and I know how you enjoy your bondage.
She knelt up, shook her head to clear the hair from her eyes and straddled my cock; despite her cuffed wrists she had no difficulty sliding onto it.
'As you've already cum...' She told me sliding up and down my shaft. 'I'm hoping for a long slow fuck.' She smiled and arched her back thrusting her breast out. 'And I'd like Sir to play with my nipples.' She winked. 'Assuming Sir doesn't mind.'
Sir didn't mind at all.
After that, we took PLT to bed every night, Bryony was clearly up for it and I certainly wasn't about to let such an opportunity pass. I rather enjoyed my submissive fiance disappearing upstairs after dinner with the lovely little blonde crawling leashed at her heel to 'prepare' her for Master. Bryony demonstrated quite a dominant streak and seemed surprisingly good at bondage; but then, she had grown up in Mares-de-Launce. Presumably she'd got through a few cans of whipped cream herself.
Bryony seemed, particularly to enjoy using rope on PLT's body and especially the blonde's large firm breasts. On a couple of occasions I'd come in to find PLT helpless in pretty intense positions, her arms bound in a reverse payer tie and her lovely breasts dusky from a tight rope halter. Of course, the two of them clearly took the opportunity to indulge in a little girl-girl action and, while I should have punished them, the discovery one evening as I went in the bathroom to find Bryony wearing a strap on fucking the little blonde sub up against the wall of the shower simply made me want to encourage their experimentation rather than curb it. Needless to say, on that occasion, I took the 'droit de senor' and we finished up in bed with Bryony fucking the little blonde from the front while I introduced her to heterosexual anal sex. Being a pony, PLT was no stranger to having stuff forced through her sphincter and, after I'd removed her hood, she told me she actually enjoyed anal play.
Bryony just rolled her eyes but, the next evening did offer to be the filling in the sandwich.
Goose called out of the blue on the Friday saying she was tied up in London. I assumed this wasn't literal but I did wonder who she might have tied up with her. I was doing some circuit training with the girls and they were currently doing alternate burpees in the yard. PLT was clearly less used to this form of exercise than Bryony and had several more whip marks on her buttocks to prove it.
I let her pause briefly and held the phone to her ears.
'Yes, Mistress.' She said after a moment. 'Yes, Mistress...of course Mistress...yes, Mistress. Four times, Mistress. Yes, he's been very strict. All three, Mistress. No, I think it's about the same size as Justin's...'
She passed the phone back to me.
Sadly, it seemed I would have to keep the girls for the weekend. So I extended the training programme ensuring that I paid diligent attention to all PLT's training needs and on the Sunday, it was Bryony that lay hooded and restrained at the foot while a handcuffed PLT took a final oral exam to confirm she'd learnt what was required. I felt a little twinge of guilt about this but as Bryony lay hooded and helpless and, apparently utterly submissive despite what was happening a few feet away, I took the opportunity to extend PLT's training further; she was, after all, a very pretty girl and one blessed with marvelous tits. Kneading her firm mounds as I took her from behind was a real treat as was the way she thanked me afterwards, licking my cock clean before snuggling against me.
We spent the night in the arrangement, the little blonde pressed firmly against me and my fiance chained naked and hooded at the foot of my bed. It was the stuff of sexual fantasies even if it did happen largely because I fell asleep I could release her.
When I woke on Monday, the pert little blonde was still in bed next to me and I was a little nervous as I freed Bryony from the hood and sleeve. However, as I pulled the hood over her head, she simply smiled up at me and asked if Master had been fully satisfied before winking and drawing me into the shower as PLT still slept on our bed.
She had a shoot with Terry in London and I had to free her from the weighted cuffs for the day.
'If I had a proper collar, Sir.' She told me as I unlocked her. 'You could leave to on me. I think Terry would quite like to tell his members that his model was a proper slave-girl.'
I had a meeting about an upcoming international meet so I dropped the two of them off at Temple Meads just after eight in the morning and went on up the M5 to Birmingham. It was probably the first time Bryony had worn clothes for over a fortnight and watching her dress rather than strap her into harness had been a rather novel experience. Of course, as a bondage model, Bryony had a certain appearance to keep up: lacy black bra...check, tiny black thong...check, leather mini skirt...check, bare midriff jailbait top...check, five inch stilettos...
PLT hadn't been expecting to go out so Goose hadn't left any clothes with her. She, thus, squeezed into one of Bryony's more elastic minidresses; a red one; it was so tight on her it showed every curve and made her nipples stand out like buttons waiting to be pressed; at least, as there was no way she was going to fit any of Bryony's underwear, she had no visible underwear lines. She had bigger feet than Bryony too but managed to squeeze into a pair of wet-look patent black thigh boots that were in the back of the closet.
'They're Rubber Dolly's old ones.' Bryony said as if that explained why they were there.
I decided not to ask any questions.
I'm sure the guy at the station who saw me drop them off assumed they were whores I'd taken home for the night.
By the time I picked them up at a little after six in the evening, PLT was wearing a pink catsuit that drew even more attention to her lovely young body; she still wore the thigh boots. She was also wearing false eyelashes and pink lipstick that matched her catsuit. Bryony had apparently lost her bra at some point during a shoot and the crop top had been cut away so she was wearing the red mini-dress PLT had left the house in.
It appeared that Terry had taken quite a shine to Bryony's friend and offered her a day's shooting too but when she hadn't been able to produce any ID he'd had to say no. He had, however, let them play on set and I'd seen the results courtesy of WhatsApp. If they were ever shot properly they were going to be a popular set with PLT in the pink jumpsuit bound with black rope being dominated by Bryony in a white leather minidress. Bryony made a delicious dominant, a kind of smaller, perter version of Mistress Gabrielle, Terry's resident dominatrix. Seeing her like this, leaning over the helpless blonde, whip in hand with a predatory expression almost made me want to try a little role reversal. In a break in the afternoon, they had swapped roles and I'd got to see Bryony indulging in a little foot worship, her pink tongue working diligently on PLT's patent leather toe as she knelt with her arms restrained in a leather straight-jacket that was cut away to reveal her perky little breasts with their piercings.
They were clearly both on a high after their day modeling and talked incessantly about Terry, his make-up girl Tanya, the various restraints that had been used, vibrators and the gags they'd used on each other. I briefly wondered if they'd had a similar conversation on the train and what their fellow passengers might have thought.
'No Mistress Gabrielle ?' I asked trying to squeeze a word into their excited conversation.
'Pregnant.' Bryony said. 'Babies are due next week.'
'Babies ?' I asked.
'She's having twins.' Bryony told me. 'Terry's looking for a new dominatrix.'
'Are you thinking of applying ?'
'Too far to travel.' She said. 'But I quite like the idea.'
'She can be really dominant when she wants to be.' PLT, sitting in the back, slid her arms around Bryony.
'Sub...dom.' Bryony shrugged. 'It's all much the same thing.'
I remembered Rubber Dolly's comments on Dryad's day.
They were still chatting when we pulled into the stable yard to find Cream waiting for us. She was clearly excited and had come in a hurry. The-Cat stood in harness, tethered to the post in the middle of the yard.
Cream rushed up to us as we climbed out of the car. The young blonde was flushed with excitement.
'I've had an email from Don Hernan.' She said waving a print out. 'I sent him some pictures of the Dryad's day match and he's invited us to come and train with the Cabelleras.' Then, unnecessarily, she added. 'That's the team played for in the Buenos Aires PonyGirl Polo Club.'
We managed to calm her down enough to get her inside and Bryony made coffee as she told us more about it.'
We were invited to stay at Don Hernan's Hacienda, his training ranch in the Andes and train alongside the 'potras', the young pony girls in the build up to the new season which kicked off on New Year's eve with a match in Buenos Aires.
By the time Cream had finished the explanation, PLT was almost as excited as she was.
'I'm sure Mistress will let us go.' She said.
'And what about, Master ?' Bryony looked at me with a measured smile though I could see her eyes flashing with excitement.
'We do have some money set aside for our honeymoon.' I reminded her.
At PLT's insistence, we phoned Goose. She was up for it too.
The three girls hugged each other in excitement as Cream told the others about how she'd been kept in a stable usually wearing her pony boots and under constant restraint, chained at night alongside her training partner; how she'd been trained hard and punished at the whim of her coach...
I peered out of the window to check The-Cat was still alright, standing tethered and harnessed in the courtyard.
'And you're ok with all this ?' Bryony asked later when Cream had gone, driving The-Cat back up to the village.
PLT was upstairs peeling herself out of Terry's catsuit so she could take a shower.
'All what ?'
'You know what happens to ponies in the stable, don't you Sir ?' Bryony was finishing her coffee and eating some toast. It was probably the first time she'd been allowed to feed herself for a week.
'You mean the fact that they are open to abuse by anyone ?' I asked with a grin.
'Yes, Sir.'
I shrugged. 'As long as nobody damages my property.'
'You really are beautifully dominant sometimes, Sir.' She winked at me. 'And may Sir's property ask if he will be sharing his dominance tonight as he has done this week with a certain pretty blonde ?' She pointed upwards.
'Is it any business of a slave ?' I countered.
'Of course not, Sir.' She bowed her head. 'But this Slave hopes that Master will not forget her or be too distracted by a stable full of hot dusky maidens to visit his her once in a while.'
'I may consider it.' I told her. 'And what about you, Slave ? How do you feel about being kept in a stable tightly restrained where that lovely body will at the beck and call of all ?'
Her eyes flashed with excitement and she blushed beautifully though she tried to hide it by lifting her mug to take a sip of coffee.
CHAPTER 8: PONYGIRLS IN TRAINING
The flight to Buenos Aires passed unremarkably, the only hiccough being the need to take a party of girls with a variety of interesting piercings through security at Heathrow. The-Cat and Bryony had been frisked while Rubber Dolly was lead away and we waited for an anxious thirty minutes especially after a young woman whose badge identified her as Dr Collins, followed her into the holding room carrying several packets of latex gloves. However, after her detention and presumably intimate examination, the enigmatic brunette emerged smiling and apparently laughing with the young woman doctor beside her.
'I have a G-spot piercing.' She said with a grin when quizzed. 'It's not a crime.'
Apparently the piercing was inserted under guidance of an ultrasound probe and consisted of a bimetallic strip that, in the depths of her pussy generated minute electric currents.
'I'm constantly horny'. She confided at the end of her explanation. 'And when Reuben's tongue stud catches it, I couldn't stop myself climaxing even if I wanted to.'
She concluded by revealing that the young doctor who'd just examined her had taken details of where they were available.
Perhaps, the sensations kept her amused through the flight although, I noticed somewhat jealously, that she slept through most of it, her head lying gracefully on Reuben's shoulder, her face in a half smile while the rest of us flicked through entertainment channels and tried to find a comfortable position.
Thus, as most of us emerged from the fourteen hour flight bleary eyed, the lovely brunette strode out bright eyed if not bushy tailed.
We were clearly expected; there was a very fit looking senorita waiting for us in arrivals dressed in a blue jacket, crisp white blouse and very tight white jodhpurs. She was clearly an athlete, standing upright with her head up and shoulders back, hips thrust slightly forward; a woman who was proud of her body and worked to maintain it. Even if she hadn't carried a sign saying 'Mares-de-Launce Pony Club' I think we'd have spotted her, especially when I realised the shiny black leather knee high boots she wore ended in the shape of a hoof.
She had typical Hispanic features with dark eyes and full lips though her hair was dyed blonde and drawn back in a sleek, oiled pony tail. She introduced herself as Jacintha in a strong, lisping Spanish accent, something that wasn't helped by the tongue stud that clicked against her teeth as she spoke. Jacintha clearly remembered Cream rather fondly judging by the way they'd said their 'hellos'.
After welcoming us, she lead us out of the terminal through an almost overpowering wall of heat to a waiting minibus where a man in a peaked cap loaded our luggage while we climbed aboard.
Ezeiza International Airport is just outside the city and we bypassed it in air-conditioned comport before heading west towards the distant Andes soon passing into farmland where cattle grazed as far as the eye could see.
At some point I nodded off and awoke as the bus wound its way up a mountain road through a mix of vineyards and coffee plantations until we began to follow a high wall that eventually gave way to a huge steel gateway. I could see a driveway stretching beyond flanked by a wide area of grass and scrub that then gave way to vineyards. A figure in black stood on the other side of the gate and as the bus pulled up another appeared. The men were both Hispanic, well built and suited; both carried automatic rifles. Don Hernan clearly took no chances with security. However, formidable as they appeared, a moment later the electric gates swung open and we drove inside, the black clad security detail waving as we passed.
It was clearly a vast estate and there was no sign of the Hacienda as we climbed steeply through the vineyard I'd seen from the road. Disappointingly there were no herds of pony girls sweeping majestically across the grassland, manes and tales streaming behind them, just a few workers, tending to the vines.
Then we rounded a bend and there they were, a line of carts ahead of us, harnessed ponies trotting between the shafts as they toiled up the steep road. As the bus overtook them we all looked out. The ponies were all dark skinned brunettes, small and pert like our guide though probably a little younger; and were all naked aside from their harnesses, boots and bridles. The harnesses were fashioned in the more modern polo style but more substantial, looking a little like Bryony's training harness but with with heavier shoulder straps running to rings round their breasts and a leather girdle; there was not crotch strap were leaving the girl's sexes exposed and no thigh straps either. Their arms were bound in an arrangement I'd seen in drawings of pony girls but never in photographs; each girl had her arms folded behind her back with her hands touching the opposite shoulder leaving her elbows pointing down towards her bottom, one over the other in the middle of her back; their arms, thus restricted were entirely encased in a triangular leather sheath. They weren't hooded but were bridled in a fairly traditional way, although this appeared mostly for show or, perhaps, discipline as the girls were all pierced and controlled with nipple reins. A couple, I noticed, had a single rein between their thighs too like that seen on a dressage mare.
It is perhaps worth noting at this stage that, unlike the Morrisey piercings of Mares ponies with which, thanks to Bryony, I was intimately acquainted which consisted of a single heavy set vertically just behind the nipple and is used with a nipple bridle; polo ponies usually have triple piercings; a small light ring set horizontally quite for forward in the nipple and two heavier vertical piercings in the areole on either side. In harness, the heavy rings on the inside of the breasts are joined by a short chain that stabilises the arrangement a little like the horizontal bar of the nipple bridle, the outer rings take the weight of the reins; there is then usually a fine chain or, sometimes a rubber strip connecting the outer ring to the small ring in the nipple itself. The constant jostling of the reins which occurs during a polo match is thus absorbed by the outer ring while the link to the small nipple ring provides the fine control needed to manoeuvre a girl in the close quarters combat that is PonyGirl polo. The various stables of the Buenos Aires PonyGirl Polo Club that use nipple reins have their own ways to maintain the sensitivity of their ponies' nipples ranging from the use of plant stings (a little like stinging nettles), through insect venom (the Wasps, not surprisingly, use South American hornets to sting their ponies' nipples before the start of a game), electrical stimulation up to good old fashioned flicking, pinching and biting. (The 'nipple posts' in the stableyard of the Angels are there for precisely this reason and in the build up to a match the ponies endure an hour a day bound to them with a groom assigned to each nipple).
In passing I would also note that genital piercings are not universally used on ponygirls for much the same reasons as they are not used in the racing ponies in Mares-de-Launce; in short they can chaff and affect a girl's performance. When they are inserted it is mostly to control girls who have a habit of running on in defiance of their player's attempts to slow them down either through over-enthusiasm or, in some cases, a fear of the whip.
As we passed, the look of determination in each girl's face was evident, eyes focussed and teeth clamped tightly around the leather bits in her mouth, sweat running down faces and beading on firm, pert breasts. Their athletic prowess was unmistakeable as each girl performed a perfect rising trot in her thigh high leather boots despite pulling the short shafted polo style gig to which she was harnessed up the slope.
Their drivers were very similar to their ponies and, surprisingly, also wore harnesses and boots though not bridles. They all held driving whips in their right hands which they used almost constantly so that the ponies' backs, bottoms and thighs were covered in red welts and bruises.
The leader of the group was slightly different; though harnessed and restrained in the same way she was hooded and sported a horse-head tattoo with blue bridle and plume like Cream's on her right shoulder. He driver wore the colours of Don Hernan's stable, the tight blue leather bolero jacket and tiny shorts that Cream wore when we trained; she wore a hat too, a flat topped brimmed one in the typical Spanish matador style which offered her some protection from the sun.
'This year's potras.' Jacintha told us. 'You will training along with them.'
I saw Bryony glance up at me wide eyed in a mix of excitement and anxiaty then, as we left the group to their training, we rounded a bend revealing Don Hernan's Hacienda, a sprawling building in a Spanish colonial style that commanded views of the surrounding estate and the valley beneath stretching away into the haze of the late morning sun.
The bus pulled into the courtyard and we disembarked, again feeling the heat of the day although here in the foothills of the Andes it felt cooler than in the oppressive humidity surrounding the airport.
We were offered drinks on a terrace, iced water and juices and a seat in the shade while our luggage was unloaded. Jacintha waited with us. Then, a few minutes later, another woman in equestrian dress strode into the courtyard followed by a group of six others, three men and three women who were similarly clad though jacketless and carried what were clearly harnesses and bridles. The new arrival was a little older than Jacintha and rather stern looking; and wore riding boots rather than pony boots and black leather riding gloves; she also carried a riding crop. I could tell she was clearly more senior from the way our guide clambered quickly to her feet as the woman entered.
'Welcome to the estate of Don Hernan de Cortez de Medellin.' The new arrival said, addressing us in almost perfect English as her followers fell into line behind her with their burdens. 'I am Juanita Mendez-Garcia, StableMistress of Hacienda de Medellin.'
As she spoke she drew her riding crop across her bottom. 'Don Hernan bids you welcome. Neustra casa es su casa.' She nodded her head in a brief bow her eyes meeting mine and then seeking our Reuben and Charles. 'In a moment, I will have you shown to the guest rooms but first, the ponies will present themselves for harnessing.'
I think we were all a little stunned but Cream was the first to recover, slipping off her dress, kicking off her shoes and tripping forward to drop to her knees in front of the StableMistress.
Juanita cracked a smile and stroked the little blonde's hair.
'Welcome back pretty one.' She said in Spanish, reaching to touch the tattoo on Cream's shoulder.
'Gracias, Senora.'
The-Cat was only a moment behind, as naked as her lover and just as eager.
'Esta es El Gato, Senora.' Cream said. 'Mi cono.'
Senora Mendez-Garcia laughed. 'I like the use you make of pet names for your ponies but I don't think I can call her 'pussy' in front of the stableboys.' She looked round briefly at the row of stablehands behind her and they looked down quickly. 'The-Cat will do.' She smiled. 'And I see you have already prepared her.' She used the whip to tease The-Cat's triple nipple piercings.'
'And where is Latex Dolly ?' She looked directly at Bryony.
'That would be me.' Miss Carter peeled off her linen dress revealing some delicious black lacy underwear. 'And it's Rubber Dolly.' She strutted forward undoing her bra and then sliding out of her knickers.
She held the stablemistress' gaze for a moment but then dropped to her knees.
Juanita was clearly not impressed, her face coloured slightly and her mouth became tighter.
'You are a little older than most of our ponies.' The stablemistress said pointedly.
'That's because I'm a mare.' Ms Carter shot with a slight smirk.
The crop struck her across the breasts before any of us had even seen Juanita move.
There was a moment's tense silence.
'Lo siento, Senora.' Miss Carter said. I'm sorry.
The woman bent slightly and took the kneeling mare's chin in her hand, lifting her head to look her in the eyes. If the school teacher and part time fetish goddess was truly magical as village rumours suggested, I could imagine Senora Mendez-Garcia turning into something unpleasant or perhaps just bursting into flames.
Needless to say, it didn't happen.
'I will enjoy training you.' The stablemistress said tensely. 'And you will get no allowance for being...'a mare'.'
'I wouldn't expect any, Mistress.' Miss Carter said with voice that dripped with submission. 'I look forward to receiving your full...attention.'
Despite her severe demeanor, the stablemistress smiled and looked up.
'There are three more.'
Bryony and Pretty Little Thing needed no further prompting, in a moment, both were naked and kneeling side by side.
'I'm Sticky and she is Pretty.' Bryony said way too coyly.
Charles and I both laughed.
I expected the whip to fall but Mistress Juanita apparently saw the funny side too.
'I am loving your sense of humours.' She said pleasantly though the tip of her whip teased the ring piercing Bryony's right nipple in what I thought was a somewhat threatening gesture.
Then the tip of the whip moved to Pretty Little Thing's pink buds. 'A virgin ?'
It was Goose's turn to laugh.
'There is one more.' The stablemistress looked at Goose who, somewhat uncharacteristically took a step back.
'Not me.' Goose recovered and pointed to Barbie.
'Now you are teasing me.' Juanita said. 'It must be you.'
'And why not me ?' Barbie stepped forward.
'Madam !' Stablemistress Juanita looked suddenly tense. 'Polo is a young woman's sport and, while I admire your zeal, I can tell you that you cannot play.'
For a moment, I imagined a cat-fight.
'Yes.' Barbie's eyes were beginning to tear. 'You're right.'
'If you want to...' Charles stepped forward and put a protective arm round his lover, glaring at the stablemistress.
'No, Charles. She's right. I was out of breath walking up the stairs just now. I've been worried about this and I know I'm not up to it.'
We were over three thousand meters up. I was out of breath climbing the stairs and, despite the fact it was cooler up in the mountains, it was oppressively hot and quite sultry.
Juanita nodded.
'Just five then ?' She looked at Goose.
'Solomente cinco !' The Goose said in what sounded to me like very good Spanish. Only five !
'Jacintha !' The stablemistress snapped her fingers and pointed to the floor beside Rubber Dolly.
Jacintha stiffened but only for a moment before shrugging off her jacket.
Then, unselfconsciously and deliberately, she undid her blouse before slipping that off to reveal a firm and very toned body and similarly firm breasts supported in a white sports bra . On her shoulder was a stable tattoo, the first I had seen with a gold ring around the horse's head. I wasn't surprised when she peeled the bra off over her head to expose polo piercings in her nipples.
I'm sure I wasn't the only one watching her enforced striptease.
By the time she bent and unzip her boots, I'm sure she was smiling and, after sliding them off her feet she undid her jodhpurs and slid them down her beautifully toned legs standing for a moment in just a tiny white thong as if she wanted to give us one more thrill of expectation.
'Jacintha !' Juanita barked.
Jacintha quickly slipped out of the thong though, I'd swear she bent forward way more than was necessary. Then she scampered to kneel beside Rubber Dolly.
The message was pretty clear.
Rubber Dolly turned and smiled at her new training partner and Jacintha thrust out her tongue in what I can only describe as a wantonly lascivious gesture. With Jacintha's tongue stud they were apparently a perfect match.
I'd love to be a fly on the wall in that stable.
Mistress Juanita clapped her hands and the six stablehands stepped forward to harness the new ponies.
The harnesses were similar to the ones we'd seen the girls in training wearing though didn't appear as thick and so presumably weren't weighted. The stablehands spent some time adjusting the straps, several across each girl's shoulders and then around her waist, ensuring they were a perfect fit and buckles neatly aligned.
'They will be wearing them for the duration of their time in the stables.' Juanita told us as she walked up and down the line of kneeling ponies inspecting the work of her stablehands. 'It is important they fit correctly to prevent chaffing. The harness must be snug, a girl must be constantly aware that she is wearing it; reminded of the need for obedience.'
She tapped the whip against her gloved palm.
After the harnesses been tightened around the kneeling girls' bodies and locked at strategic points by small padlocks, I was able to watch how the triangular armbinders worked. Firstly the girls' hands were placed in leather mitts that were strapped around the wrist and, as with the harnesses, locked in place with small padlocks; then the tips of the mitts were drawn up to the girls' shoulders and fastened to the shoulder straps of the harness. Then the triangular leather sheath was slid up over the girls's elbows, locked and fastened to the harness.
'Out of sight out of mind !' Juanita said idly. 'A good pony should almost forget how to use her hands.'
Bridles came next.
There's something beautiful about watching a woman being gagged, especially a submissive one; seeing her open her mouth eagerly or, perhaps nervously, knowing it will deprive her of the power of speech, applying another level of bondage to her helpless body; amplifying her submission. Watching all six of them take the bit one after the other was an almost sublime experience; lips parting submissively as they looked up at the stablehand standing above, meekly taking the thick black leather bar between their teeth, closing their lips a little around it, exploring it with their tongues.
Pretty Little Thing was the first one to drool.
I'd swear the little minx did it on purpose because when I looked at Goose her hand was gently rubbing her crotch and her erect nipples were clearly visible through her soft pink blouse.
Then, when the bridles had been tightened and adjusted, came the boots; thigh high black leather, cut to follow the curve of the calf and tapering of the thigh but clearly reinforced at the joints.
'These are training boots.' Juanita explained. 'They are only partially weighted and lightly sprung. They require a degree of...effort to use.'
Finally, with the six newly harnessed and bridled ponies standing somewhat unsteadily in the unfamiliar boots and rendered helpless in their new tack, reins were clipped to bridles or nipple rings and they were lead away towards the stables.
Only Bryony looked back, giving me a beaming smile and then a sexy wink.
I hoped she'd have fun but perhaps not too much without me.
CHAPTER 9: PONYGIRL POLO
Somewhat disappointingly, we weren't taken to the stables to see what was to happen to our ponies but, as guests of Don Hernan, were shown to our rooms in the guest wing before being offered a buffet style lunch consisting largely of steak and then invited to take a siesta. Though I was eager to explore, I got the distinct impression we were expected to wait upon our host and thus made my way back to the room for a sleep.
I'd just dozed off when I was awoken by shouts outside the window. I ignored the first few but then intrigued got up and went to look out.
There was some sort of polo match underway; eight girls harnessed to buggies, eight others driving them with whips; the ponies wore standard polo harnesses with the triangular sleeves pinning their arms behind their backs and pony boots leaving them exposed to the whip from half way down their backs to the middle of their thighs, all were hooded and guided by reins clipped to their nipples; their lithe, toned bodies performing obediently and perfectly to the commands, both unspoken and shouted by their players. I could tell at a glance these women were superb athletes, the way they carried themselves, the way they moved; their acceleration as the whip urged them on, their agility as the reins drew them into turns.
I soon realised it was a training session, not a match; though they appeared to face each other, two teams of four (or, perhaps eight) they were clearly practicing set moves, one team manoeuvring and passing, the other trying to intercept.
Whatever Don Hernan expected of his guests, I couldn't let this opportunity pass. I looked at the groom's outfit I'd been given and considered wearing this but decided to dress in my own clothes then raced down the stairs to have a closer look.
Finding my way out of a side door, I hurried across the field towards the action, watching excitedly as the teams returned to their starting positions in preparation for another pass. Up close, it was even more spectacular; Cream had shown me a few videos on line but nothing could have prepared me for the sheer adrenaline rush of watching these athletes clash head to head; of the drivers poised in their gigs, focussed, intense, wielding whips and reins in gloved hands, shouting to their ponies, urging them on; of whips falling on bare flesh and leather tugging urgently at gleaming nipple rings; sweat glistening bodies straining in harness; the rumble of wheels, the clash of gigs.
The ponies and drivers all bore the same tattoo as Cream, the black horse's head with the blue bridle and plume, the mark of the second team.
Now, I really wanted to see the firsts.
Beside the pitch a blue jacketed figure called instructions and several other trainers or grooms or whatever they were ran among the ponies and players watching their performance. These were clad similarly to the coach though they had shed their jackets and ran in their shirtsleeves; a mix of both men and woman; like the coach, they wore pony boots.
The pass finished and the pitchside coach called them over; the players guided their ponies towards her and the assistant coaches jogged beside them. Several of them noticed me, for the first time, I think, and the head coach turned towards me. She was a striking woman, taller than most of the ponies around her, muscular, presumably once a pony herself but now older, perhaps in her late thirties or even early forties; she was attractive too, and would have been more so if her right eye was not covered by a black patch and there had not been a ragged scar down her right cheek.
She fixed her single dark eye intently on me, the boots making her slightly taller, and hefted her whip in a similar way that I had seen Juanita do.
I hastily explained who I was in my best schoolboy Spanish.
'Ah, the English team.' She gave a slightly derogatory laugh. 'Come to see how the game is really played.'
'Si, Senora.' I replied, relieved that I had been understood.
There was a slightly nervous laugh from the assembled players who, as they had arrived at this 'team huddle' had dismounted their gigs and were standing by their ponies, holding them by the reins where they attached to the nipple rings. Riders and ponies all wore pony boots which came up to the thigh. A few of the ponies murmured around their bridles and shook their heads and one or two of the players whispered to their mounts.
Clearly satisfied that I wasn't a spy in the camp, or at least, not one who posed any threat, the coach turned back to her team, haranguing them in a torrent of Spanish that was beyond my ability to follow but I did pick up something about footwork directed at a tall, slender pony called Marianna to my right and something about keeping a tighter rein to the left directed at her driver. However, most of the coach's wrath was directed at Ximena and her pony, Valeria, who were called forward.
'Se quite !' She snapped at the player who, wide eyed, immediately shed her leather bolero jacket and holding it behind her back as she thrust her breasts forwards. Her nipples were pierced just like those of her pony.
The one-eyed coach launched into another tirade and, as she spoke, brought the whip down repeatedly on the breasts of both girls, pony and player, who stood firm, the player staring forward dispassionately enduring both their coach's physical and verbal assault. The other players kept their gazes into the middle distance though they clearly were all watching the reprimand from the corner of their eyes; the hooded ponies rocked nervously on their toes.
When the punishment was over the players and ponies went back to practice, the chastened player remaining bare breasted. However, she was only the first to suffer the coach's wrath and an hour later three girls were topless, their breasts as liberally decorated with welts as the bodies of their toiling ponies.
Ximena and Valeria seemed to be having a particularly bad afternoon.
Sadly, I couldn't see this form of discipline catching on in more conventional sporting circles.
The Goose joined me some time later as a fourth player and her unfortunate pony were being chastised.
'Skins verses shirts ?' The blonde asked with a rueful smile.
I chuckled. I'd been thinking the same thing.
Goose had taken the time to dress in the outfit she'd been given. It looked rather good on her, the white blouse stretched over her large breasts and the jodhpurs hugging her toned legs and bottom. Her hair hung loose, moving slightly in the breeze. She looked as if she felt right at home here.
She made some comment in Spanish for the benefit of the coach.
'You think I am unnecessarily harsh ?' The coach said in slightly accented English, taking her eyes off the players for a moment.
I shrugged. 'I'm sure you know what you are doing.' Several times, I'd not been sure what the girls were being whipped for. Sometimes, the player dropped the ball or the pony was a little out of position and the coach just smiled and made them repeat the move; other times, everything looked fine but a player and her pony were whipped.
'Everything must be right.' The coach explained. 'Mind and body...focussed. Polo is a dangerous sport...the pony must be utterly obedient, the player utterly focussed, confident...'
They went at it again, the coach directing Ximena and Valeria to the hustler position to intercept and win the ball.
We watched closely as Ximena drove Valeria at another pair but where before I had seen other girls come too close and collide, Ximena steered Valeria too wide and missed the tackle completely nearly colliding with another player.
The coach blew her whistle in frustration and called them over again.
'Carmen !' She called to another of the players who drover her pony over towards the coach. Carmen was a typical Latina, dressed like the other players (those still clothed, at least) but had a blue collar around her neck; it looked shiny; metallic or perhaps enamel. 'Take them up to the Hacienda and tell StableMistress Mendez-Garcia that they need punishment, then exercise Camilla, she has been stabled all day and I don't want her getting out of condition.'
'Si, Senora Valentina.' Carmen said. She flicked the whip and wheeled her sweating pony. 'Come along, you two.'
Then she turned towards the Hacienda with Ximena and Valeria beside her.
For the others, the practice continued for at least another two grueling hours by which time the ponies looked exhausted, lifting tired legs as they dragged the chariots with increasing effort to complete the moves under the direction of their drivers. However, no quarter was given and buttocks and thighs were lashed repeatedly. Several times ponies stumbled and at one stage, one fell as she completed a tight turn, her legs buckling under her; she earned the whip of her player as she struggled to her feet but not the retribution of the coach.
They were still training when a stableboy came for Goose and me, asking us to come to the stables to begin training.
'So, you gonna get fitted for a pair of those boots ?' Goose asked me as we followed the stableboy around the side of the hacienda towards the stables.
'I don't think so.' I responded rather coldly.
'It wouldn't help you to get between the shafts, you know.' Goose told me. 'We've all done it. Well, I've done it.'
'No !'
'I'm just saying.' She persisted. 'It's how they train them here; pair them up, make them swap roles; get them thinking like each other.'
I was saved from a lecture on teamwork and a potential argument with Goose by our arrival at the stable yard.
It was a little like yard at Goose's place, but bare baked earth rather than concrete and there were stalls on three sides with an office and store rooms on the other. In the centre, somewhat ominously were two wooden blocks; mounting blocks presumably from when the stable had four legged horses; and two posts set so they sloped apart. Chained to these with their wrists above their heads were Ximena and Valeria. The girls were still booted but Valeria's harness and hood had been removed; Ximena was otherwise naked.
That both had been soundly whipped was obvious from the marks on their breasts and inner thighs; more so in the case of the player who like her pony had fresh red welts across her shoulders buttocks and back although these overlay older bruises that clearly had a similar origin.
However, Ximena and Valerie were not the only ponies in the yard.
Bryony and Pretty Little Thing were there, harnessed side by side to a double chariot; standing beside The-Cat and Cream, a player in full colours holding their reins. Facing them was Rubber Dolly alongside Jacintha; Juanita mounted behind them, still in her blouse and jodhpurs, addressing them.
Our ponies had clearly already been put through their paces and their fatigue was evident in their faces; a sheen of sweat covered their now noticeably pale skins and their harnesses were soaked with it. It appeared no quarter was being given for the altitude or any jet-lag they might be feeling. Though still harnessed and bridled, they made a rather unglamourous sight as they stood, covered in dust and dirt, mud on their boots, their hair hanging limp and wet about their shoulders. They had clearly endured the whip harshly and all of them had markings like dressage ponies after an event. However, when she looked at me, I could see in Bryony's eyes a look of grim satisfaction, triumph even, and undaunted spirit that, when I looked, shone in all of them.
Reuben was already there and as Goose and I entered, Juanita shook her reins and wheeled a tired Rubber Dolly and Jacintha towards us. They were clearly too slow for the strict stablemistress and a lash of the whip cut across Rubber Dolly's flank, closely followed by a strike to Jacintha's buttocks. The two ponies lifted their legs in response, tired muscles straining. I noticed that Rubber Dolly's left ankle was cuffed by a short strap to Jacintha's right and, when I looked at the other pairs, I saw the same they were thus forced to run in step albeit with the opposite leg.
'You're late, Juanita.' Told us, her eyes flicking towards the two punished girls in the centre of the yard perhaps implying that the Goose and I might replace them. 'And you.' She looked at me. 'Are improperly dressed.'
I realised I was still wearing my own clothes.
'We're sorry.' Goose said in Spanish. 'Mistress.' She added after a moment.
I looked at her but she focussed her gaze on Juanita, head up, perhaps challenging her to carry out her unspoken threat.
'Get to your chariot.' Juanita told her gesturing towards Bryony and PLT.
I watched Goose with a little envy as she walked towards her pet and my fiancee. We'd flipped a coin for who had got the two village girls. I'd lost.
'Come on Englishman.' Juanita smiled thinly. 'You are a famous sports coach in England, I think.'
'I've had my successes.' I said modestly.
Juanita frowned and shook her head. 'Then let us show you if you can train Argentine ponies.'
She wheeled her chariot, again whipping Rubber Dolly who seemed to have required more encouragement than her fellow pony or, perhaps, it was because she was the right hand one of the pair and therefore easier to whip. I wondered if this had been something to do with their earlier exchange and the comment about being a 'mare'; the lovely brunette's back was covered in weals from just below her pinned elbows to the top of her boots.
I followed on foot. I might be Don Hernan's guest but it was clear I was now in StableMistress Jaunita's stable.
There were benefits to my position though; Juanita had a lovely tight bottom and a slim waist and she was wearing shiny black boots; more importantly, however, I had a gorgeous view of the two ponies she drove. I always liked the idea of matching ponies and had developed a fantasy about finding another pert redhead to run with Bryony but the contrast between Rubber Dolly's alabaster skin and lustrous dark hair with the deep tan of Jacintha and her dyed blonde hair was rather delicious; other than this they were well balanced, similar heights and similar builds, both a little more buxom than the average racing mare and the way they moved in unison, obedient despite their obvious exhaustion sent a delicious shiver of pleasure through me at the thought of driving or even owning such a pair.
My pair were, by contrast, matching in almost every way; to my eye, they could have been sisters; small, pert bodies tightly strapped into harnesses that dimpled their dusky flesh; their small breasts, thrust forwards by the tight bondage of their arms and shoulders, bulging through steel rings. They regarded me with exotic dark eyes over the straps of their bridles, their white teeth bared around the thick leather bits that filled their mouths clamped down by the tight straps under their chins; each of them had a long lustrous mane of black hair.
The stablehand holding them firmly by the nipple reins introduced them as Shiraz and Helena.
I suppose I should have noticed; the sly smile of the groom, and the brief exchange in rapid Spanish with his stabelmistress, the way he handed me a riding crop as well as the driving whip exhorting in broken English to 'use them much'; I should probably have noticed the ponies' stances, slack and casually at rest between the shafts rather than the eager demeanor of the other girls and, when I thought about it, the sullen challenging looks in the girls' eyes.
I should definitely have noticed the tails or, rather understood the significance of them.
However, I was so excited by the prospect of driving this sultry pair of beauties, I missed all these things, enjoying only the sight of their bare harnessed flesh, the beautiful tight triangular sheaths constraining their bound arms and pulling their shoulders back, their tight bottoms and strong thighs tapering to rounded calves and then the flare of the boots that were strapped to their feet.
So I climbed aboard my chariot, slid the crop into my belt, and took up the reins, excited by the thought that they were clipped to the pierced nipples of two exotic ponygirls and I would soon be using them to guide my lovely Hispanic ponies as I used the whip to drive them on.
CHAPTER 10: HELLCATS
It was only just before we started off that Juanita ceded control of Rubber Dolly and Jacintha to Reuben and, I got the impression she did it reluctantly. The lovely Miss Carter was in for a hell of a holiday. As a replacement, a stablegirl brought the stablemistress an unusual looking gig pulled, to my surprise not by a pony girl but a pony boy.
He was hooded, so I couldn't see his face but a black ponytail emerged from the back of the hood and his skin tone suggested he was Hispanic. He wore a heavy harness with straps across his shoulders that met at a ring in the centre of his chest and between his shoulderblades; from these, a single strap went down to a thick waist belt; the harness had a crotch strap too, unusual in a ponygirl harness apparently because of chaffing. The crotch strap had a ring at the front for his cock and balls, which were pulled through it, his cock enclosed in a leather sheath held in place by series of straps around his balls that lifted and exposed them making him rather vulnerable; his shaft was then strapped vertically to the crotchstrap of his harness. There was a ring was at the back of the crotch strap for his tail. His arms were strapped behind his back in a more conventional heavy duty single sleeve. Aside from this he wore typical pony boots like the stablehands and a bridle. He was unpierced and his reins were clipped to the end of his bit.
I wasn't surprised to find Goose pulling up beside me.
'Nice bit of horseflesh.' She opined pointing at the pony boy with her whip. 'Are you sure you don't fancy a go, Mike ?'
The image of the pony boy was striking and I must admit there was a small part of me that wouldn't mind trying, for the right driver. I recalled Miss Carter's words about denying myself the full gamut of pleasure by not exploring my submissive side.
'Of course, if you were mine, I'd have your nipples pierced like a proper pony.' Goose continued as Juanita climbed onto the gig which was little more than a frame: wheels on a axle and two shafts to which the ponyboy was fastened; although there was nothing to hold onto, she seemed to maintain her balance easily.
The stablemistress flicked her whip and the ponyboy started forwards.
We followed, Juanita leading the way with her fresh young ponyboy followed by Reuben whipping his tired pair to the trot and Goose behind with Bryony and Pretty Little thing. It was only as they clattered out of the stableyard that I realised something was wrong. I shook the reins and called to them as I'd seen was customary here, flicking the whip across Shiraz's buttocks to set them to the trot. They barely moved though Shiraz took a small step forward as the whip struck her bottom.
I delivered a second stroke and one to Helena too managing to get them to a shambling walk.
The stableboy who'd been holding them brought his gig alongside; he was driving The-Cat and Cream..
'Whip !' He exhorted. 'Hard !'
He drove his ponies forward, they were both, hooded and restrained in a standard polo harnesses responding obediently, eagerly even, to the reins and the whip. The stableboy leaned over and whipped both of my ponies shouting at them in Spanish and bringing them to something resembling a trot.
I flicked my whip at them again, catching both girls on the buttocks, Helena's tail dancing where I caught it.
'Keep the whipping.' The stableboy called back as he urged The-Cat and Cream to the canter to catch the others.
I did as he bid, shouting at them in a mix of Spanish and English as I rained blows down on them. Eventually, they seemed to get the message and I drove them through the gate at something approaching a canter to see Goose driving Bryony and PLT some twenty yards ahead with the stableboy just behind her.
Then it happened. Shiraz planted her left foot wide and Helena tripped over it, stumbling in harness and falling to her knees, partly supported by her fellow pony. I leapt down from the chariot concerned that Helena was injured wondering how Shiraz could have been so clumsy. Helena glowered up at me with an angry expression and I was suddenly concerned I'd done something wrong. I helped her to her feet asking her in Spanish if she was hurt but got no response then, suddenly, she turned towards her partner as far as the harness would allow and began screaming around her bridle, swinging her booted feet and kicking Shiraz in the shins.
Shiraz turned and responded in kind.
I stood for a moment I stood pulling ineffectually on their bridles but they were harnessed side by side and there was no way to separate them. Glancing over my shoulder, I could see the others disappearing over the edge of the hill, that dropped down towards where the second team had been playing.
It was up to me to deal with this pair of spitting, snarling she-cats. It was at that moment I remembered the crop in my boot. I drew it and, pulling Shiraz's reins with my left hand to try to turn her away from the partner I struck her hard on the breast with the whip. She stilled a little and I struck her again. Helena's tirade continued. It was just as well the boots were reinforced and padded. After another fierce blow to Shiraz's breasts I turned the crop on Helena's.
The Spanish I'd learnt in school hadn't covered disciplining volatile ponygirls but I did my best managing to convey that they were 'naughty girls' even if I'd rather have told them they were the spawn of Satan.
'I will punish you both later.' I told them as they calmed down though they were still glaring angrily at each other over their bridles, slips drawn back around their bits, nostrils flaring. I hoped it was a threat I could carry out but given the set up with ponies kept naked and in bondage and the free use of the whip, I guessed it wouldn't be too difficult.
Then, I gave them a final blow each ensuring I caught at least one nipple on each girl and climbed back into my gig as Juanita appeared over the hill.
'Is everything alright, Michael ?' She called in what I think was a rather amused tone.
'Fine.' I called back angrily. 'Helena stumbled and I was just admonishing her for her clumsiness.'
Juanita drove her lovely docile pony boy towards me looking down at the ponies who now stood still and, I thought, rather meekly.
'And, Shiraz ?' Juanita said looking down. 'You have 'admonished' her too ?'
'It seemed only fair.' I lied. 'I am hoping that you will let me chastise them both properly later.'
Juanita smiled. 'I'm sure a good pussy-whipping will teach them the value of obedience.' Then she turned her gig around and whipped her ponyboy to the canter to catch the others. I followed, my ponies responding a little more cooperatively this time.
Whether it was the beating I'd given them and the threat of more punishment or the fact that Stablemistress Mendez-Garcia hung back to keep an eye on them, my ponies gave me little more trouble and as we cantered through a section of woodland beyond the training field and I once again felt the thrill of driving harnessed pony girls. Sullen and uncooperative they might be but they were also feisty and when put under the whip they responded with the acceleration of trained athletes so that when I took them to the gallop the effect was exhilarating and we easily gained ground the tired mares.
As we emerged from the trees, slowing to a canter another pony and driver joined us; the girl between the shafts appeared fair-skinned compared to the native ponies and a blonde mane danced behind her hood as she ran, driven by a Hispanic man wearing a blue riding jacket and jodhpurs; he stood on a gig like Junaita's, little more than an axle and wheels, perfectly balanced flicking the whip neatly at his galloping pony who seemed to pull him effortlessly up the slight incline. The pony was strapped tightly into a blue leather harness, complete with crotch strap, that was highly decorated with gold that looked like braided rope, her arms tightly sheathed in the traditional manner, forearms pressed together; the sheath and her boots were also made of blue leather; a blonde tail fluttered behind her bottom. With her long stride, she reminded me of Fawn, the blonde mare who had been Mare's Day race champion before Bryony took her title (with a little help from your's truly) and, for a moment, I considered the possibility it might even be her; she had disappeared a few days after her defeat. However, this mare had considerably larger breasts, obviously enhanced like Barbie's so unless the athlete had undergone a considerable transformation, I suspected it wasn't Helen Dorsman.
The rider guided his pony skillfully alongside Juanita and they spoke to each other briefly before he turned and waved to me and spurred his pony to the gallop leaving us behind. He nodded courteously to Goose as he passed her and then pulled alongside the stableboy driving The-Cat and Cream. I watched them exchange a few words and then the driver pulled forward and used his whip on Cream's bottom before turning back up towards the house.
'Don Hernan.' Juanita told me, dropping back beside me. 'He has invited you and the other visiting players to dinner tonight.'
'And the ponies ?'
Juanita gave me a look of disdain. 'They will be stabled as they should be.'
It sounded as if Bryony would be getting the full submissive treatment.
'And Don Hernan's pony ?'
She smiled slightly.
'One of his mistresses, Helga. I expect she will be there. She is certainly his favourite at the moment but I think he has a fondness for Cream too.' She laughed at her own joke and whipped her ponyboy. 'Home James, and do not spare the horses !'
Though I used the whip, I could only watch as she pulled away.
I managed to get back to the stables without incident but as I pulled them to a halt in the yard, Helena and Shiraz turned to glare at each other moving apart as far as their harnesses would allow. I jumped from the chariot and marched round to stand in front of them holding the whip up before them and trying to think what else I could do to keep them under control.
I vaguely knew what to say, I'd done enough school athletics classes to know how to handle a stroppy teenager though the most I'd even been able to threaten them with was a couple of laps of the field or a note to their parents. Helena and Shiraz might not be teenagers but they were certainly behaving that way.
Fortunately, Reuben came to my rescue, leading Rubber Dolly and Jacintha.
'Would it help if I translated ?'
'Tell them I'm fucking annoyed with their behavour.' I ranted. 'That they will be punished. That I will not tolerate ill discipline.'
Reuben translated and the stableboy appeared at my side.
Reuben translated for him too.
'He is asking how you would like them prepared for punishment.'
'I plan to whip them soundly.' I told him.
'He is asking what position.' Reuben said. 'Breasts, backs, bare feet ? Or do you wish them suspended for a...'pussy whipping'.'
'Back and buttocks will be fine.' I'd already whipped their breasts. Juanita had suggested a pussy whipping but I thought I might keep that in reserve. Bryony is pretty submissive and, I think, actually enjoys being whipped in harness but even she gets stroppy if I catch her pussy with the whip by mistake.
The stableboy appeared unimpressed by my choice, nevertheless, he helped me unhitch them from the gig and then lead them towards the whipping posts where Ximena and Valeria were still chained. The pair had moved round the slanting posts so that they lay on them, rather nonchalantly, I thought, one knee raised. They looked more like whores selling their wares than chastised ponies.
Helena and Shiraz were guided to the mounting blocks where the stableboy released them one by one from the shafts and bent them over the mounting blocks before pulling a strap across each of their backs to hold them in place.
Juanita appeared beside me holding a heavy looking wooden paddle. She still trailed her pony boy on his reins.
'I think a pussy whipping would have been better but they are your property for now.' She passed me the paddle. 'Make sure their bottoms glow.'
I have struggled to punish Bryony sometimes, there is a part of me that dislikes hurting her (at least when she'd not toiling away in harness) but this was a different situation. I'm used to instilling discipline in my charges, albeit not usually with the whip. Not only did these two need a firm hand, they had embarrassed me in front of Juanita.
I hefted the paddle and touched it lightly to Shiraz's bottom.
'Conte ! I said.
Then I brought the paddle down hard on her tight round bottom.
Shiraz flinched slightly but said nothing.
'Remove her bridle.' I said to the stableboy.
He did.
'Conte !' I repeated.
It took four blows before she finally relented and, for a moment, I thought I might be about to lose the battle of wills. However, I finally heard a faint 'Cuatro'.
'From the beginning.' I said. 'Commence a uno..'
After two more she obeyed.
Her bottom was already glowing red.
'Mas fuerte !' I said. Louder !
'Uno.'
'Mas, fuerte !' I struck her again.
'Uno.'
'Uno, Senor !'
'Uno, Senor !' She echoed as I brought the paddle down again.
'Dos.'
Her voice was strained by six so I stopped at eight.
I think I got a nod of approval from the stablemistress who stood in front of the girls holding her hooded, harnessed ponyboy by the bridle.
Then I moved on to Helena.
She was quicker to respond, needing only once to be told to speak more loudly and when she'd taken a dozen, she mumbled a 'Gracias, Senor' along with Shiraz.
I handed the paddle to the stableboy and turned to find I had attracted quite an audience; grooms watching and ponies leaning over stable doors.
I was pleased to see Bryony watching me too. She looked exhausted but there was a hungry look in her eyes and she was rubbing her thighs together as she stood, still harnessed beside Pretty Little Thing.
Reuben smiled at me as he stood beside Rubber Dolly, hand resting gently on her bottom.
Even Goose seemed impressed.
CHAPTER 11: STRICTLY CUM DANCING
Hoping it will teach them cooperation, Senor.' The stablegirl said.
'Perhaps.' I wasn't convinced.
She was a pretty little thing and I wondered if she spent much time in harness. From the way she handled my two wayward ponies, she clearly had a dominant streak despite her petite size and obvious youth.
'Do you have many ponies like these two ?' I asked trying to engage her in conversation.
'Sometime women have their needs.' She said in a rather sexy Hispanic accent. 'These two needs the same stableboy.' She gestured to where Juanita still lead her harnessed, bridled ponyboy around the yard as she checked on the other ponies.
The second team had finally come back from their practice under the watchful eye of their coach and the ponies were being released from between the shafts of their gigs. A few of the players were massaging their pony's legs.
'And ponyboys.' I asked. 'Are there many of them ?'
She shrugged. 'Not really. Some like them.' She looked at Juanita who was talking to the coach with the eyepatch. 'There are some men like it too...to be ponyboys, I mean...but I think we are not like in England. In Argentina it is women who must to know their place. It is in our culture. Ponygirls are prized...coveted. Now the sport is becoming big business. Many girls want to be pony and many men want pretty pony...' She laughed. 'Ponyboys are just for fun...or for punishment.'
She turned and looked at me very cutely with a dimpled smile that presumably broke hearts at every hacienda between here and Buenos Aires. 'But you can try if you are liking, Senor.'
The invitation reminded me of Justin and what he and the Goose might have been getting up to. It also reminded me of Rubber Dolly's comments after the polo match in the pub on the night of the Dryad's Feast.
Everybody seemed keen to offer me the opportunity to become a pony.
The thought helped me to stand my ground; there had been a moment when I'd first met Bryony that I thought I might like to be her ponyboy once in a while but then I'd got used to the dominant role, even if couldn't always manage it to her satisfaction.
Dinner was a fairly grand affair and I felt slightly shabby despite bringing my best suit.
However, if Don Hernan noticed, he was too polite to say so when he introduced himself to me and welcomed me to his 'humble abode'. He introduced me to his lovely blonde pony too; the girl I'd seen earlier pulling his gig. Even out of harness, she was striking with piercing blue eyes luscious plump lips to add to her slim figure and voluptuous breasts. I wasn't the least but surprised when she told me she'd been a model before meeting Don Hernan. Overall, she gave the impression of a younger and prettier version of Barbie in her blue silk dress that was almost classical in style. She had a little silver collar around her neck that was clearly locked in place; a little ring dangled from the front; she had matching bracelets on her wrists.
It was clear Don Hernan enjoyed something of the lifestyle one might associate with pony girls.
Current favourite Helga might be but when Goose followed me in wearing an off the shoulder number in chiffon (pink of course) Don Hernan's eye turned immediately to the new arrival. The Goose may not be the prettiest girl in the village but she is slim and blonde and has a body that many girls would die for. I couldn't help thinking that driving her and Helga, these two statuesque blondes, six feet tall in their heels, side by side as a matching pair would be many a stable-lad's wet dream. Goose had her hair up and decorated with pearls and there was a pearl choker around her slender neck. She was wearing a lot more make up than usual including a soft pink lipstick that, I'm sure, was the same as the one on Justin's neck and collar when I'd picked him up the morning after Dryad's day. The dress had a plunging neckline and a very long slit up the side and, if she was wearing underwear, I couldn't see any evidence of it.
The Goose was a woman who scrubbed up well and she was doing it on five inch heels.
Accepting a glass of champagne, from a young waitress, dressed something like a footman in blue frock coat and breeches, I watched Don Hernan take the Goose's hand and brush his lips over her knuckles before taking her onto his arm and leaning in to whisper something to her. The Goose's eyes lit up and she looked towards me laughing, replying to her host in his native tongue.
Like Reuben, The Goose it appeared, spoke fluent Spanish; of course she bloody did ! I just hoped Charles and Barbie were as incompetent as me or it might turn into a very long evening.
Helga came to my rescue, speaking English albeit with the expected German accent, telling me she'd come over for a season's polo (the better known version with four legged horses) a few years ago and heard about the rather saucier underground game involving two legged ponies. She'd played a season as a pony for one of the other teams, 'Las Chicas' before meeting Don Hernan at a tournament.
Ponygirl polo had, it seemed, been around since the time of the Spanish empire, usually played with native girls in harness but with the collapse of the empire it had largely been forgotten until in the nineteen twenties a small group of Dons had set up a series underground tournaments. The sport had remained underground until about ten years ago when, for some reason it had gained popularity, perhaps as a result of internet clips which had slipped out from these secret tournaments and reached mainstream culture.
Don Hernan had, she told me, seen a gap in the market and been one instigators in the game's development from seedy backstreet sport to a rising phenomenon that was beginning to attract crowds in the tens of thousands. He was president of Buenos Aires PonyGirl Polo Club, the organisation to which the competing stables belonged.
I was pleased to see Barbie at dinner although she did not look entirely comfortable, especially in the presence of Juanita. Don Hernan, however, made a point of entertaining her and, at one point resembled a peacock as he strutted round with Barbie on one arm and Goose on the other. When we sat down to dine, he insisted Barbie sit beside him where he engaged her and Charles in a constant stream of conversation so that by the time the meal was over her eyes were shining and she was back to the role of saucy matriarch that she liked to inhabit in the village. A request to Charles as the port was handed round that he, Don Hernan, might borrow Charles' lovely blonde mare for a trot round the grounds in the morning sealed our hosts position in her mind as a gentleman and earned him a place in her heart.
Charles seemed entirely happy with the arrangement when Don Hernan offered the use of Helga in return.
Then we got down to business.
Don Hernan wanted to know more about our 'stable' and, from the way her spoke, I think Whipped Cream had probably 'bigged us up' for want of a better expression; especially when he asked us about joining the Club. Goose told him we were still in the early stages of training and explained about the annual 'Mares Race', introducing me as coach and driver of the winning mare. Don Hernan listened intently and expressed his hope that we would enjoy our stay and to treat his house as our house. In return, he asked little more than I give my opinion on his training methods and that our squad join him at the next major game on New Year's Eve in Buenos Aires. A little international interest would do wonders for publicity he told us. The conversation finished with an exhortation to come up with a team name and, perhaps, before leaving to play a friendly match against some of the new 'potras' and a few of his less experienced seconds.
After dinner there was dancing accompanied by Spanish guitar. We watched several tangos danced by slim senoritas in tight black leather skirts and dresses that carried more than just a nod to the Hacienda's S&M leanings with overt flashes of stocking tops, stiff nipples straining against white blouses and whips instead of roses between the teeth. The girl who followed, dancing the rumba (I watch 'Strictly...', I know my paso from my quickstep !)was a little more buxom, a luscious brunette with huge eyes that almost certainly came from Moorish ancestry and clothes that cast her very much in the role of the luscious slave girl; swirling silks tied to her large gold nipple rings, gold ankle and wrist cuffs and, of course, a collar. She danced in a way that was so impossibly submissive it made me think if the Gor books I used to read when bondage was just a fantasy; and when her 'master' drew her in with his whip after teasing her with his cape in the pasa-doble I thought he might bind her and use her on the spot.
After that, she danced with one of the leather-clad tango girls. I'm a great fan of hot lesbian sex, particularly with an S&M flavour and this was about as close as a couple of girls could get to it with their clothes on. It was certainly nothing you'd see on 'Strictly...'. I must have been very absorbed because I suddenly found Don Hernan at my side.
'You like her, Senor Michael ?' He asked with a flash of white teeth.
I nodded not trusting myself to answer without giving away the fact that my cock with rigid under the table.
'I shall have her sent to your room later.' He nudged me and winked.
'Oh, Don Hernan...no, I couldn't...'
He fixed me with a stern glare.
'Senor. I do not think that pretty little redhead pony you drive will show any reluctance to share her favours. I think even now in the stables she is parting her thighs for one of the stableboys or using her tongue on one of the girls.' He nudged me again. 'I understand are to marry soon.' He smiled at my surprise and winked in a way that suggested he knew rather a lot about our group. 'A man should take advantage of all opportunities in life.'
I sighed and then raised my glass in thanks.
It would be rude to say 'no' to such a generous host.
'And later this week, we will discuss training techniques.' He smiled again. 'I think I have much to learn from you.'
I was flattered.
I was also, I realised, quite drunk.
A short while later after another similarly erotic dance, Barbie and Charles began making excuses and I took the opportunity to say goodnight wondering if our host had made offers of dancing girls to Reuben and Goose too. It was at that moment that I looked around and realised that both of them had gone.
Swaying slightly I went out towards the stables with the intention of ensuring Bryony was alright. I suspected she was in her element, chained up in a stable like some fantasy slave girl but I wanted to see her anyway.
Speaking a foreign language always seems easier when you've had a few drinks and I managed to make the groom on duty understand what I wanted. There was, after all, only one English redhead in the stable.
He shrugged and lead me to Bryony's stall.
She'd been stabled with Pretty Little Thing and the two girls lay in the centre of the stall illuminated by the groom's lamp. Both were naked and both still wearing their triangular polo sleeves and harnesses; they were wearing their pony boots too; it was clear that Juanita's comments about wearing them constantly were correct; at least for new ponies; perhaps after a while they would forget how to use their hands. Their ankles were cuffed in simple leather hobbles that someone who could use their hands could easily undo. Lengths of gleaming chain ran to a heavy ring int the centre of the floor like the one in Helena and Shiraz' stall. PLT was chained to it by her pink steel collar and Bryony by her nipple piercings. Bryony unmistakeable with her mass of red hair and pale skin lay with her back to me and I could see the sweet curve of her body, the slim kink of her waist stretching into the lovely curve of her bottom and trim thigh lifted, legs parted; and there between her thighs was Pretty Little Thing's mouth, her tongue lapping eagerly at Bryony's sex. As I watched I heard Bryony moan and lift her leg further, adjusting her position to allow the little blonde to apply her tongue even more intimately; then she flexed neck, her hair trailing over PLT's open thighs as she buried her face in her fellow pony's snatch. Both girls were so intent on their love-making that they didn't notice me and soon they were moaning in unison, both clearly approaching orgasm.
I looked at the groom who grinned back.
'I have them sent your room ?' He asked. 'You like ?'
I saw Pretty Little Thing look up, a flash of clear blue eyes but with the lamp between us and the stable door I doubted she could see much; a frustrated moan from Bryony soon brought the blonde's attention back to the task in hand.
'No.' I told him shaking my head.
The groom shrugged and started to return to his duties.
CHAPTER 12: PRIVATE DANCER
I made my way back to the room still a little unsteady on my feet.
It was late or early or something. I really wasn't quite adjusted to the time difference and while I'd like to have Bryony in bed beside me, perhaps taking the chance to catch up on some sleep was a good idea.
Don Hernan, however, clearly had other plans.
I opened the door to my room and there she was, the dancer with the Moorish eyes, kneeling, head bowed, at the foot of the bed beside the old fashioned, wooden ottoman bound with steel. She had been chained to the bed by her golden collar. On the carpet in front of her was a coiled bullwhip like the other dancer had used on her.
Now she was completely naked, her gold nipple rings and cuffs, glinting in the low light.
She looked up as I entered, the whites of her eyes shining slightly.
'Saher has been waiting, Senor.' She said in an accented and deeply husky voice. 'Don Hernan commands me to dance for you one more time'
She leant forward slightly on her knees, her large creamy breasts full, almost pendulous; there was something small and glinting hanging from each of her nipple rings and I saw her wrists were cuffed behind her back.
'You will find I Saher very responsive...and, if she is not...' She bent and picked the whip up in her teeth, lifting her head and offering it to me.
I took the whip, putting it under her chin to make her look up at me, enjoying a surprising thrill from the power it gave me.
'Levantate !' I said. Stand !
She obeyed, beautifully submissive, standing with a rustle of chain, head bowed, breasts thrust forwards. The items on her nipple rings were keys; one on each side.
'And these.' I gently touched the key on her right nipple.
'The key to Saher's bonds, Senor. That one is for the lock on my wrists.'
'And this one.' I touched the other key seeing her nipple stiffen as I brushed it.
'For Saher's more...intimate locks.' She giggled slightly looking down, blushing beautifully then lifted her face, her dark eyes focussing on me. 'Saher hopes that Senor will remove them later.' She smiled coyly.
'I'm sure Senor will.' I unhooked the key to her wrist cuffs and stepped behind her. Her wrist cuffs were linked by a padlock which yielded to the key. The cuffs themselves appeared smooth, welded on to her body.
'Dance.' I told her.
She began to hum softly then swayed her body to the rhythm, turning to present herself to me, my own private dancer. If her earlier performance had been and erotic rumba, this was full of sexual charge; slow and langorous, her hands in her lush thick hair, head back breasts thrust forward, a portrait of a woman in the rapture of sex. I could hear the soft click of the long chain fastening her to my bed and the soft chime of a bell as she writhed her hips; as she arched back, I saw a small bell swinging from the ring that pierced her clit and a chain running back between labial rings.
When she saw where I was looking, she smiled and turned and bending forwards, her legs apart displaying the thick smooth lips of her pierced and locked pussy, bulging and engorged, glistening with moisture; the gold chain securing them ran through eight gold rings and was padlocked to a golden ball that looked like the tail of a butt plug.
She turned and smiled gyrating towards me, eyes half closed, lips pouting, her soft hum turning to a moan, her huge breasts no more than an inch from my chest, her lips close to mine but not touching, teasing; I could feel her breath on my face, smell her scent.
I let the coils of the whip fall and her eyes followed it.
I'd watched the dancer use it, watched her dance as she evaded the blade.
She span away, at my first stroke which went a little wide; my second was closer bringing a smile to her face.
She began to sing, dodging left and right with the marvelous agility, the chain to her collar dancing with her as I brought the whip closer with each strike. When she turned away, I caught her full bottom with the tip of the whip and she squealed delightfully before raising her hands above her head, standing on her toes as if chained like that.
I took her round the waist with the whip, allowing the tip to kiss one of her breasts as it wrapped round her body.
Then I drew her towards me, turning her slowly with the whip, pulling her voluptuous body against mine. Her chest rose and fell from her exertion and then, as I wrapped her in my arms, she lowered hers around my shoulders and pulled my mouth to hers, her lips meeting mine eagerly.
For a long moment, I enjoyed the full warmth of her body, soft and full against mine.
'Senor.' She gasped pulling her lips from mine. 'May, Saher undress you.'
'She may.'
She began by undoing my shirt and pulling it back, her hands running over my body, tracing the lines of my muscles, enjoying their firmness.
My muscles weren't the only thing that was firm and, after dropping to her knees to remove my boots, she pulled down my trousers and boxers, smiling as my rigid cock bounced in front of her. Her fingers caressed it gently and then she kissed it.
'Saher asks that you unlock her so that she may please you fully.'
I took the chain locked to her collar and pulled her to her feet, leading her to the bed, her hand still resting gently on my cock. Then I pulled her up beside me, my hands going to her lovely big breasts, enjoying the full softness of the flesh, feeling their weight. Hooking my finger in one nipple ring, I pulled the nipple to my mouth and kissed it gently.
Saher groaned.
I let the breast fall and took the key off the other nipple ring, my hand sliding between her legs to find the lock that fastening the chain to her butt plug. She parted her thighs and I teased her gently.
'Senor, please or Saher will cum too soon.'
This comment puzzled me but I did as she asked, unlocking the padlock and pulling the chain free of the the labial rings; there seemed no way to remove it from her clit piercing so I left it dangling across her sex.
'Thank you, Senor.'
Her labia bulged and a large metal ball slid out with a soft clank.
She laughed at my surprise.
A second followed, falling into my hand, warm and wet, chiming slightly like a Chinese worry ball.
'Saher is made to carry them inside her at all times, Senor.' Her voice trembled as she spoke. 'Saher, is thus kept at all times...aroused...ready...'
'And this ?' I touched the gold ball still fastened to her anus.
'Anal beads, Senor. Saher been prepared with an enema so when you remove them she will be able to please you.'
'And, if I remove them will it give you pleasure ?'
'Saher will doubtless howl like a vixen on heat as she cums like the whore-slut she is.'
'Then we will save them for later.' I drew her in and kissed her and she pressed herself against me.
I've bedded way to many athletes, tight bodies, some so tense that it's almost been painful as they literally wrenched pleasure from my body with the determination to succeed.
With Saher it was completely different; they talk about women being built for comfort not speed and Saher epitomised this with her soft pliant body and her langorous touch; her laugh as I teased her nipples and gently bit the full flesh of her breasts.
'Please, Senor.' She said finally. 'Saher needs you inside her.'
I slid into her warmth and felt the tremor of her orgasm almost immediately.
'Saher needs to cum, Senor.' There was desperation in her voice. 'Please, Senor.'
'Saher may cum.' I didn't think she'd be able to stop even if I told her to.
'Ahhhgghhhh !' She threw her head back and howled, her body arching, hips thrusting, hands clasping my arms as she came.
I came too, shooting my load into her as she ground her hips against mine wringing her climax to the full.
Gracias, Senor.' Saher opened her eyes and smiled, reaching up to kiss me. 'Saher is denied for a month before now.'
'A month ?' I stroked her hair, brushing it gently away from her face.
'Si, Senor.' She looked up at me with her eyes shining. Despite her orgasm she was still intensely aroused, still full of need. 'Saher is kept for pleasure and Don Hernan would expect a man to punish me if by cumming too soon I spoiled his pleasure.' She looked at me earnestly.
'You didn't spoil my pleasure.' I told her.
'Yet, still Saher asks that you use her fully.' She guided my hand to the first of the anal beads.
'Later.' I told her.
I was suddenly feeling very tired.
'Senor ?' There was need in her voice.
'Yes ?'
'Saher likes to be bound when her beads are removed.' She smiled. 'I think, Senor will enjoy it more if she is.'
The mind was willing but the flesh was weak. I'd flown half way round the world, downed a bottle of wine and just been shagged by a magnificently kinky slave girl.
I closed my eyes just for a moment...
I can only have been asleep for five minutes when there was a hammering on the door.
Hellcat and Shefury were fighting in the stables and, apparently, they were my responsibility. Leaving Saher, I pulled on my jeans and followed the stablegirl who'd woken me to towards the stable investigate.
Half the stable was, it seemed awake; ponies peered over stable doors and a number of bleary eyed grooms stood around my ponies' stall; none of them, I noticed doing anything to silence the catowalling that was coming from within.
The groom I'd seen earlier was standing by a stable door and, recognising me, gave me an amused smile.
'I think you should have pussy whipped them, Senor.'
I peered over the door to see the two girls laying into each other; dark hair flying, spitting and screaming; it was Helena on top, I thought, kneeling astride Shiraz. It was fortunate their arms were completely unusable in the polo sleeves or they might have done some serious damage.
'Just as well you went to bed early, Senior.' The groom said, handing me a whip.
I'd have liked to make a smart remark but even if could have thought of one, I probably wouldn't have been able to translate it into Spanish.
I opened the stable door and strode in, grabbing Helena by the hair and laying into both of them with the whip. Even so, it took me some time to get their attention and when I pulled Hellcat off her stablemate, SheFury took the opportunity to attack her, throwing herself at her rival and sinking her teeth into the girl's shoulder.
I used the whip liberally and was left holding one of them on their knees by the hair while I knelt on the other's back.
Eventually I had their attention.
'Would these help, Senor ?' The groom who'd recognised me said with a command of English he hadn't formerly demonstrated.
He held muzzles and a number of cuffs and straps..
'Perfect.' I told him as I fought to regain my breath.
Despite my having subdued the pussy riot, he seemed reluctant to enter the stall but then I heard a woman's voice from somewhere behind him.
'Si, Senora Garcia-Mendez.' The groom entered the stall and I caught a brief glimpse of the stablemistress. It appeared she was taking her hooded pony boy for an evening stroll.
At Juanita's command, the groom entered the stall still somewhat cautious but the girls seemed chastened, and accept their binding though they glared at each other and exchanged insults most of which I didn't understand. They were still linked by the chain between their nipple rings and the groom undid this before we threw them on their bellies and buckled cuffs around their ankles; then we used the muzzles; these covered the lower half of the girls' faces and had leather discs to blindfold the wearer; they were fitted with huge rubber plugs which were so big I was surprised the girls could take them but we forced them into their mouths. Both of them had blood on thier teeth and lips, a mixture of their own and each others and I was careful not to allow Shiraz to bite me as I pushed the gag home. Finally, at the groom's suggestion we pulled them into an intense hogtie attaching their ankle cuffs to the top of the harness gags and hauling until the soles of their feet almost touched the tops of their heads. Then we placed them at opposite ends of the stable.
'I am Jose, Senor.' The groom said offering me his hand as we left the two fighting ponies to a night of punishing bondage.
I shook his hand. 'Mike.' I said. 'Thank you for your help.'
Jose grinned. 'You wish to see the redhead, Senor ?'
I shrugged feeling more than a twinge of guilt at the thought of Saher lying naked in my bed but I peered over the door of Bryony's stall anyway and there she was, sound asleep with her head on PLT's thigh, the two ponies naked cuffed and chained as before. The pretty blonde was still facing the door; I thought she had very a satisfied smile on her face
Our approach must have disturbed her because her eyes fluttered open momentarily and her smile broadened. As I watched as she squirmed forward lifting her head and planted a kiss on bryony's pussy. Bryony stirred slightly making contented noises and nuzzled her face towards PLT's soft pink pussy.
I looked at the groom.
'They have been at it all night, Senor.' He grinned. 'It is why we had the muzzles ready.'
I looked around.
'Where are Ximena and Valeria ?'
'Gone with your friend, Senor.' He thought for a moment. 'Senor Rueben.'
My guilt lessened further. Somewhere in one of these stalls, Rubber Dolly was probably snuggled up to Jacintha doing much the same with her as Pretty Little Thing was with Bryony. I was almost tempted to ask to see her but then I thought about Saher and her need to be relieved of her anal beads.
Perhaps it was time to wake the rest of the household and now it was over, I realised I'd quite enjoyed the thrill of handling all that fighting, squirming female flesh. If Saher screamed, I could always muzzle and punish her.
CHAPTER 13: ANAL FUN
Saher rolled over way too quickly when I reentered my room and I reaslised I'd left her with her hands free.
They'd clearly been buried between her legs when I'd returned and, when she sat up, the lovely dancer's face was flushed with guilty arousal. I didn't say anything but she knew she'd been caught out and suggested I bind and punish her before playing with her again. The thought of binding her excited me and she directed me to the ottoman in which I found a veritable cornucopia of bondage equipment. I picked out a pair of shiny red bondage sleeves that left me with free access to her breasts.
When I'd restrained her, she knelt at my feet, eyes shining with excitement.
For punishment, I gave her half a dozen blows of the crop to her breasts, thoroughly enjoying the way they bounced as I struck them and, when I'd finished, she thanked me, blinking back tears.
'Time to pull out those beads.' I told her.
'Si, Senor.' She smiled. 'Saher begs that you hood and gag her first.'
'I'm not going to make it that easy for you
However, I didn't feel in the mood to make things that easy for her so I tied a rope to the chain of beads and stood above her as I extracted them, whip poised, bringing it down on her lovely big breasts whenever she her cries were in danger of becoming too extreme.
If the comment about being denied for a whole month before tonight was true, I was surpsised she hadn't wanked herself senseless while I'd been away; however, the girl either had amazing stamina or had been obedient enough not to let herself cum.
She certainly howled as I removed the beads and I thoroughly enjoyed whipping her breasts to keep her quiet. After her second climax I put something solid in her mouth and made her suck me as I pulled the rest of the beads out. She did a pretty good job considering how distracted she was though made a bit of a mess swallowing at the end as we both came about the same time leaving her with my cum dribbling down her chin and spattered on her breasts.
I don't know if she did wake anyone else but I suppose it would depend whether they were sleeping or not.
Finally, I pulled her into bed beside me, spooning her so I could played with her nipples before getting a few hours of much needed sleep.
I felt rather self-conscious as I entered the stableyard dressed in my blue riding jacket, jodhpurs and boots the following morning but I don't think anyone paid me any attention. I'd left Saher chained to my bed hooded and gagged when I'd gone for breakfast and she'd disappeared when I went back to my room a little later.
The stableyard was a hive of activity; ponies being lead from their stables, watered, harnessed by grooms dressed just like me while others fetched gigs, adjusted tack and installed their charges between shafts.
Don Hernan already had a blonde pony harnessed to a polo gig and for a moment I assumed it must be Helga but then realised the girl between the shafts had a rounder bottom and much larger breasts; it was Barbie.
'Good morning, Miguel.' Don Hernan called lifting his whip to his forehead then lashing it across Barbie's buttocks setting the blonde dressage mare to a trot which she performed beautifully across the yard to where another driver was waiting with a second blonde pony harnessed and ready to go. I recognised Charles and then to registered that Helga was his pony.
I watched for a moment, slightly envious, as the two of them trotted their lovely obedient blonde ponies out of the yard then turned to find HellCat and SheFury being lead out of their stall by Jose. The pair were apparently unaffected by spending the last few hours of the night in punishingly tight bondage. The groom lead them by a rein attached to their nipple rings, I'd seen these hanging on the walls of stalls, a simple thong about three feet long with a clip on each end, a useful lead for a pierced pony. They are used on the sensitive central nipple ring and Jose held the leading reins very close to the girl's breasts so their nipples were stretched, pulled towards each other. I watched as he paused to let them squat and relieve themselves in the gutter; then he lead them over to a waiting gig.
'Buenos dias, Senor.' He smiled, passing me his crop before removing the triangular pony armbinder to check Helena's arms. I did the same with Shiraz who stood patiently, clearly used to this treatment. Jose then showed me how to fit the restraints, pushing the girl's hands back into the mitts and tightening the shoulder straps before folding the girl's arms up behind her back; then we fitted the triangular blue leather sheath.
Ponies in the stable, I learned, spent days and even weeks at a time with their arms in the pony sheaths, though they were checked daily or at least every other day.
'A pony has no need of her arms.' Stablemistress Juanita had told me. 'In the past, some players had their pony's arms surgically removed.'
Ponies were similarly kept in their boots too; forced to walk constantly on their toes so they were completely at home in this arrangement.
It felt slightly strange, harnessing and bridling these relative strangers. I was used to keeping Bryony in almost constant bondage and had obviously harnessed and bridled PLT and The-Cat a good few times but there was always a connection; a smile even when Bryony was in one of her intensely submissive moods. Harnessing Helena and Shiraz was a little taking saddling a horse before going off pony-trekking. They just stood waiting, expectantly and, though it's never an unpleasant experience to put a pretty girl into tight bondage it made the whole thing feel more like a chore than a pleasure. Perhaps it was for the best, after the night they had given me, I had no scruples in making sure the harnesses were tight and, when the groom passed my Shiraz' tail, I took great delight in pushing it home before locking the flange in place.
'I trust you approve, Senor.' Jose said as he fitted Helena's tail. 'A pony girl must know her place.'
Harnessing them may have been somewhat mechanical but, once completed, the pair did look delightful, matching Hispanic beauties helpless in tight bondage, pierced and booted, ready to be driven under the whip.
The groom asked me which I wanted as my 'right hand girl', explaining that the girl on the right was more likely to feel the whip. I couldn't honestly say I knew which I wanted to punish most but the groom suggested it should be Shiraz so I harnessed them to the gig that way round, clipping the leather traces to their harnesses and then attaching the reins to their nipple rings enjoying the sight of the tense chain between their pert little breasts and the drag of the reins on the outer rings. Their nipples were intensely sensitive, swelling with every tiny tug on the little ring that pierced them. Whichever conditioning method the Caballeras Azuls used, it was clearly effective.
Then we bridled them.
'Make the bits tight, Senor.' Jose instructed.
I did as he told me, tightening the bit firmly between Shiraz white teeth earning a glare from her dark sultry eyes partially hidden behind the straps that crossed her cheeks.
When I'd finished adjusting the bridle and drawing her hair into a short sleek ponytail, I looked round to see that Goose had PLT and Bryony harnessed and bridled and ready to go. PLT was on the right; I suppose if I'd been driving them, I'd have put Bryony there; naturally Reuben had Rubber Dolly as his right hand girl. I was surprised to see that Rubber Dolly sported a tail and I wondered what she might have done to deserve this form of punishment.
I mounted my gig and, at that moment, Juanita trotted up with her ponyboy in harness. I noticed that, as well as whipmarks on his buttocks and thighs, there were nailmarks raked across his back and shoulders. The stablemistress made a quick inspection of our tack, drawing her gig up beside each of our ponies; hooking her finger into harnesses to check tension; ensuring the attachment of reins to bridle rings (the heavy outer ring in the areole) and the steering ring (the small ring set horizontally in the nipple). She raised an eyebrow as she surveyed Helena and Shiraz who seemed unsettled by her presence or perhaps it was her pony that spooked them. Either way, she gave each of them a sharp blow to the buttocks with her crop.
'You should have punished them this morning.' She said to me somewhat accusingly. 'See that you pussy whip them before stabling them this evening.'
'I will.' I nodded trying to sound firm.
She whipped them both again and then drove her ponyboy up to where Rubber Dolly and Jacintha stood side by side in harness; stopping to make a careful inspection of Rubber Dolly, jerking her nipple reins vigorously enough to unbalance her and then delivering a gratuitous slap with her crop to the mare's pale buttocks.
'Doesn't she have a clit ring ?' She said to Reuben.
Reuben nodded.
Jaunita turned to a stablehand and called for a restraining rein. 'And bring one for Jacintha too.'
The reins were brought and clipped in place before being passed back to Reuben.
'That should help you keep them in check.' Juanita said with satisfaction.
Then she whipped her pony to the trot and after turning to call to us to follow, lead us from the courtyard.
Outside the stables, we turned off the track onto the fields where a training session was already taking place; the 'seconds' again as far as I could tell, under the watchful eye of Valentina, the coach with the eyepatch. One player was already bare chested.
It was a beautiful sight and, despite their behaviour in the night, when I looked back at Shiraz and Helena I was once again taken by the thrill of driving these exotic ponies, knees rising and tails swishing as they trotted in front of me. It was hard to believe they would give me too much trouble but, after chastising them overnight a small part of me hoped for an opportunity to use my whip again.
We dropped down onto another tier, another green polo field, and Juanita motioned for us to stop then turned her gig to face us.
There was something that resembled a Mars-de-Launce obstacle course laid out though it lacked see-saws and raised sections; there were, however, lines of posts in the ground and sections of track with lines painted across it.
We were put to work in a circuit, driving our ponies zig-zagging between the posts and then making them step in the boxes at the walk and the trot and then the canter; using the reins to achieve fine control over them. In all the exercises, the girls were expected to keep in step, albeit opposite step in the case of the new English ponies who completed the whole morning with their 'middle' ankles linked together like a very kinky three legged race.
The Caballeras Azuls stable had a tradition of training girls in pairs, initially side by side as we were doing and then as player and pony. I learned later, it was not uncommon for pairs to swap the roles from one season to another particularly if a player's statistics were slipping. The idea was to form a bond between the two girls so that they thought and acted as one.
I suspected this might prove difficult with Hellcat and SheFury.
They weren't bad ponies and actually performed pretty well in the various exercises when they weren't distracted but I had to use the whip a lot to keep them on task.
We were training alongside the 'potras', foals, albeit a little further on in polo training than our mares. It was, I understood, the goal of every housemaid in the Hacienda to become 'potra' (I was sure at least two of them had served us dinner the night before) and of every potra to win a place in the seconds' stable. Needless to say the seconds (of whom there were many) aspired to rank among the sixteen to twenty girls who made up the elite firsts.
We'd done a few of this morning's exercises under the watchful eye of Cream while training for the match in Mars and I thought our 'mares' did rather well among the local potras. Of course, Rubber Dolly was a dressage mare and used to doing this kind of thing blindfold if not paired but she soon 'synched' with Jacintha, much to the disappointment of Juanita who seemed to have taken a bit of a dislike to the lovely dressage mare after their meeting the previous day and delighted in punishing her for the slightest error. Cream had, presumably been through all this before and I wondered if she resented being back in boot camp, however, she had clearly been training The-Cat hard and the two of them were certainly the best of the mares and, in fact, outshone most of the potras despite the very exacting player drawn from the seconds to put them through their paces. Goose and her racing mares struggled the most and when we broke for lunch Juanita was vociferous in her suggestions that Bryony and Pretty Little Thing should be fitted with polo piercings. 'Nipple and clit !' She said forcefully. 'Total control.'
It had been hot work and, after the cool of the morning, the hot sun seemed to be blasting down on us and the humidity made the air thick. I'm sure it was cooler at this altitude than it would be training on the plains below but then I wasn't sweating in harness.
We trotted our panting, perspiring ponies back to the stables for lunch and a well-earned rest and freed them from the traces and shafts. They all dropped gratefully to their knees. As I removed Helena and Shiraz' bridles, I could feel the leather was soaked with sweat and I watched them shake their wet hair as they knelt.
'I hope we performed well, Senor.' Shiraz said looking up at me. Even with her accent I could hear the sarcasm in her voice. Both girls giggled; their differences apparently settled , I suspected, in a quest to thwart and humiliate me.
The stablehands brought bowls of water and placed them in front of the kneeling girls who bent and drank thirstily.
I had to smile at the sight of it; tanned bottoms liberally decorated with the marks of the whip, gaping pussies, some with piercings and, of course a few decorated with tails.
I was about to follow the others into the courtyard of the Hacienda for lunch when Juanita stopped me.
'You have a punishment to administer.' She looked at my pairs' raised bottoms as they lapped eagerly at their bowls. She called to two of the grooms. 'Juan, Magrita. String them up.'
CHAPTER 14: PUNISHED PUSSIES
It was the first time I'd seen any sign of remorse in the girls' eyes. They struggled but they were in harness and when Magrita struggled with Helena, a stable lad came to her aid. I watched them being dragged to the posts in the centre of the stableyard were more grooms tied ropes around their ankles; they were then hoisted up between the posts, dangling by their ankles, legs spread wide, pussies gaping. The arrangement had them back to back, their bound arms bumping against each other as they struggled vigourously, their thick dark hair hanging down swinging as their bodies bounced against each other.
Juanita pushed a whip into my hand; this was not the light, partly stiff, short-handled ponywhip used for driving but a long, braided leather bull whip with a vicious looking forked tip.
'La vibora.' The stablemistress said.
This was clearly another test and there was little I could do but accept it. At least I knew how to use a whip though, not necessarily how to carry out a 'pussy whipping'. I looked around and realised I had quite an audience; perhaps they'd been impressed by my demonstration the previous day.
I hefted the whip, and made a few practice throws.
My audience, Juanita in particular, seemed decidedly unimpressed though the two struggling girls stilled, perhaps resigned to their fate. Shiraz' dark eyes regarded me fearfully.
My first stroke was aimed at Shiraz' pussy and I was pleased with the result; it struck the skin just in front of her pussy with a crack that echoed around the stables and branded a red mark on her smoothly shaved sex. I heard her gasp, arching back although this just meant she bumped against Helena and thrust her sex more directly towards me; as she swung back, she looked at me with pleading eyes.
I looked back at her expectantly.
There was a moment's silence.
'Uno, Senor.'
'Good girl.' I hefted the whip again.
My second strike caught the front of her left thigh and I aimed the third at the right, catching the soft skin of her inner thigh. The forked tongue was vicious. She continued to count.
'We haven't got all day.' Juanita said caustically.
'Quattro, cinque, seis.' The next three strikes caught her as close to the lips of her pussy as I could manage.
I crouched in front of her.
'Well ?' I asked.
'Gracias, Senor.'
'Just six ?' Juanita asked.
'More ?' I asked the helpless pony who's dark eyes were wide, shining with a film of tears.
'No, Senor.' Shiraz begged. 'Shiraz will be a good pony. Shiraz will please you.'
I stood up and walked round to Helena.
Helena didn't count, at least not until we reached seven. There were tears in her eyes by nine and she was begging by the thirteenth stroke which, because she was swinging so violently, caught her square on the inside of her right labia making her scream.
'Shall we start again.'
'No, Senor.' She begged, weeping openly. 'Please.'
'Then count for me.'
'Si, Senor.'
She counted to six between sobs.
'And will you be a good girl ?'
'Si, Senor.'
I doubted it.
I gave the whip back to Juanita and followed the others out to lunch trying hard not to look at the faces of the watching ponies and grooms although I did catch Rubber Dolly's eye as I passed her and thought I saw her smile.
There was a lunch laid out in the courtyard of the Hacienda; bread with cheese and meat and olives washed down with some cold beer. The girls from the seconds who'd been driving the potra didn't join us though Valentina did, asking us about our experiences and then pressing us for details of Mares and it's races.
I think we were all a little tired from our journey and the previous night's entertainment but the excitement of the morning was enough to buoy our spirits and with cold beer to quench our thirsts, we were soon laughing and joking and sharing tales of ponies and mares; at least until StableMistress Juanita came to join us.
After lunch the whole stable took a siesta; this was a welcome rest and I slept until a stableboy banged on my door to wake me.
We found most of the ponies curled up in the shade of one or other of the olive trees in the corners of the yard or under the eaves of the stables. Helena and Shiraz however, were still in the centre in the full heat of the sun. They no longer hung from their ankles but had been placed on their knees strapped down to the mounting blocks; the heat almost radiated from their bodies and their skins shone with sweat.
I gave them both a couple of sharp blows across the buttocks before releasing them and leading them to the gig.
Shiraz seemed a reformed character but Helena remained recalcitrant and I put her on the right. Rubber Dolly appeared to have been recalcitrant too; when I heard the slap of a whip on flesh I looked up to find Juanita punishing her.
Then, with the ponies again harnessed we trotted down to the training field for an afternoon of practice.
It was growing dark when we drove our exhausted ponies into the stableyard. The gates at the far end were open and I could see other ponies, Valentina's seconds I thought being removed from their harnesses by their players.
A groom came to help me with Shiraz and Helena. Both had actually been a good deal more obedient since their whipping at lunchtime, particularly Shiraz.
'You wish to chastise them again, Senor ?' The groom asked as she clipped leading reins to the ponies' nipple rings. She was a pretty girl, probably no more than eighteen but the way she had handled Helena, removing her bridle and tack and guiding her by the piercings in her nipples suggested a complete confidence in dealing with naked, harnessed pony girls.
'I think they've been good this afternoon.' I patted Shiraz' bottom and thought I saw her smile.
'I would suggest a handful of strokes across the breasts, Senor.' The groom persisted. 'Just to remind them.'
Helena glared at the girl but despite not being bridled managed to hold her tongue.
'No.' I said. 'They've been good.'
'As you wish, Senor.' The groom shrugged. 'I will stable them for you.'
'Make sure you keep them apart.' I warned. 'Handing Shiraz' reins to the girl.'
She smiled. 'StableMistress Junaita has a plan for them, Senor.'
She turned and lead them across the yard and, intrigued, I followed.
The pert young groom was quite a sight, stripped to her shirtsleeves; she seemed to have sweated almost as much as the ponies and her white blouse stuck to her skin revealing her firm body and the black bra she wore underneath; her jodhpurs were tight on her bottom and she was, herself, wearing pony boots; to see her leading my two ponies still booted and restrained and still wearing their tails toward their stall formed a beautiful picture although, however perfect this might sound, I could see the dried sweat on the ponies' bodies, the dust on their skin and the whipmarks on their backs buttocks and thighs.
The girls' stall was surprisingly brightly lit and, as we approached I could see several figures inside. The ponies clearly saw them too and both pulled back suddenly but the groom held firmly to their reins and drew her crop from her boot, holding the reins close to the girls' nipples to control them and delivering a sharp blow to Helena's bottom.
'Behave yourselves, bitches !' She hissed. At least I think that's what she said as she jerked hard on their nipples.
I stepped forward to take Shiraz' reins and the little groom forced Helena into the stall with a mix of the whip and her nipple reins.
Shiraz was clearly spooked too. Her eyes were wide.
'No, Senor, please.' She whispered softly rocking on her boots and resisting as much as her stretched nipples allowed.
I lifted the whip and she capitulated. 'Si, Senor.' She dropped her head and followed me through the door.
Inside the stall, Helena had once again become Hellcat and, despite her restraints, the little groom and two of her male colleagues were struggling to control her watched by a woman in a white coat.
Helena let rip a torrent of Spanish that I didn't fully understand though it was clearly heavily laced with expletives and, eventually, one of the grooms punched her in the stomach making her double over. Winded, the girl stopped struggling and the two male grooms lifted her up and carried her to something that looked like a large sawhorse where they placed her face down with her belly and chest lengthwise along it and strapped her down with belts over her back and around her thighs.
When Helena was fastened to the frame, the woman in the white coat bent over her and wiped something across the pony's sex.
Another string of expletives followed and Helena bucked wildly making the sawhorse jump. One of the grooms leaned on her and another pushed the plug of a muzzle into her mouth then secured it behind her head.
Despite the restraints and the weight of the groom on her back, Helena continued to struggle making the horse to which she was strapped jump slightly. The groom that had gagged her placed his foot on the loop of her nipple reins stretching the struggling pony's little breasts.
The woman in the white coat told the female groom to remove Helena's tail which she did and then produced a pair of surgical forceps and a metal device that looked like a gun. Then, she again bent over the helpless pony's sex. The tip of the forceps touched Helena's sex the pony put up one final struggle then stilled as the woman in white used them to grab her clitoral hood.
Helena screamed but kept still as the woman pressed the device in her other hand against the pony's clit.
There was a loud click and Helena jumped though she made no noise.
When the woman drew her hand away there was a gold ring piercing the pony's clit.
The female groom handed the woman a short light chain with a ring on the end and she clipped it to Helena's new piercing making the helpless pony wince. The female groom then clipped a longer, heavier chain to the ring at the end of the short clit chain where it hung down between the pony's legs. Then cautiously, the grooms released Helena, easing her back onto her knees. She didn't struggle and there were tears in her eyes.
The female groom pulled gently on the chain and Helena shuffled backwards on her knees whimpering. The groom took a padlock and clipped the chain to the wall. Helena knelt with her head bowed.
I glanced at Shiraz who was looking very pale.
'Please, Senor.' She whispered appealing to me.
The two male grooms stepped forward but she turned to them.
'Shiraz will be a good girl.' She said then walked calmly to the sawhorse where she knelt down.
As the women in white wiped down the girl's sex, I looked up to see the stablemistress and Valentina slip into the stall to watch the process repeated before Shiraz was chained to the wall at the opposite end of her stable.
'Hood them.' Juanita said.
The grooms pulled leather hoods over the girl's heads and pulled their hair out behind before securing them.
'Hooding them at night is another way we punish ponies.' Valentina told me. 'If a pony is lead from her stall hooded, all will know she has been a bad girl; especially if she is also wearing a tail.'
I left my ponies to endure their humiliation and their sore pussies and found the others in the courtyard of the Hacienda drinking with the grooms. An hour later we adjourned to the bunkhouse for dinner and then bed.
It was only nine o'clock in the evening but work in the stable started early and Valentina was the first to leave followed by the other grooms until only Goose, Charles, Barbie and I remained.
Despite the trouble they had caused, I wanted to check on my ponies; at the very least, it might stop me being woken up in the night; although it was unlikely that even Hellcat and SheFury could achieve anything bound and hooded and chained. I hoped to see Bryony too and I slipped into the stableyard waving to Jose as I passed his office. Then I skirted round the edge of the yard towards my ponies' stable planning to peer into Bryony's stall though I suspected I would see her in exactly the same spot as the night before.
Needless to say, she and Pretty Little Thing were just as they had been, curled up together with their heads resting on each others' thighs.
Then, as I turned to cross the yard toward my ponies, I noticed there was a figure in centre of courtyard spread between the whipping posts, her arms stretched out and chained to the posts just above shoulder height; her legs were spread too and her head bowed. Curious I went to see more and realised it was Rubber Dolly. Her pale beauty making her even more like a marble statue in the moonlight; a sculpted goddess or nymph, though one with a tail.
She'd been whipped; thrashed more like; even in the moonlight I could see dark stripes across her back and buttocks, her belly and breasts too. A knotted cat lay on the ground in front of her.
She was held in place by heavy steel chains, shackles locked around her wrists and ankles, her arms spread and pulled slightly behind the line of her shoulders.
'Are you ok ?' It seemed a stupid question.
'Mike.' She opened her eyes and looked up. She looked exhausted, her hair matted and disheveled around her face but, as always, I was struck by her beauty. 'Fancy meeting you here.' Her face creased into a tired smile, the corners of her eyes and mouth wrinkling in a way that seemed only to add to her charm. 'I really seem to have pissed off that stablemistress.'
Her tone reassured me despite her appearance.
We both looked down at the whip.
'I seem to have, er, dropped something.' She said.
'I think StableMistress Mendez-Garcia will be even more pissed off now.' I told her.
'You could pick it up for me.' She said huskily. 'I seem to be a little...tied up. She pulled at the chains and they clanked softly. I couldn't help thinking of fairytales; captive fairies, trapped in the mortal realm by chains of iron.
I bent and picked up the whip, holding it to her mouth.
'Shouldn't you teach me a lesson first ?' She asked.
'Possibly.' I said. 'But I thought both ponies in a pair were punished when one had misbehaved.' A conversation gave me the opportunity to look at her beautiful body. 'Jacintha doesn't seem to be here.'
'She is sort of.' Rubber Dolly gestured with her head and I turned to follow her gaze towards an illuminated stall. 'She's over there on her knees somewhere pleasuring miss-hard-arse stable mistress.' She smiled again. 'To be honest, I'd rather be here than on my knees giving pleasure that bitch.'
I looked back at Rubber Dolly. 'And Reuben ?'
She laughed gently. 'Amusing himself, I don't doubt. I thought I saw him going into the second's stable with one of the grooms. Perhaps he'll look in on me on his way back.' She looked around. 'Until then, I'm stuck here...all alone.' She looked at me with those beautiful grey eyes. 'Completely helpless.'
My eyes drifted down her body, her pale breasts and the gentle curve of her belly, her shaved sex and her parted legs.
'You don't have to restrict yourself to looking.' She pulled on the chains. 'It's not as if I can do anything to stop you.'
Even as she said it, she leaded forward slightly as if to offer me her full pale breasts with their piercing rings.
I thought of the dancer...
'But Reuben ?'
'He'd probably enjoy watching you touch me.' She pushed her breasts further forward. 'Sir !' She added after a moment. 'He'd like it even more if you whipped me.'
I reached out and touched her left breast with the whip, teasing the nipple which swelled immediately.
'I can hold that for you, if you want both hands free.'
I held the whip to her mouth and she took it between her teeth.
Then I reached for her breasts, they were deliciously firm and the nipples responded instantly as I rubbed my thumb over them. Her skin was cool, smooth where it was not red and angry from where whip had struck her; I could feel the dust and the dried sweat.
The whip bounced on my wrist and fell to the floor.
'Ooops !' She said looking at me with lust. 'I can be so clumsy.'
I took a step towards her, aware that my cock was standing rigidly to attention.
Her mouth was warm and receptive, eager, her lips firm, her tongue strong as it entwined with mine and then she leaned against me as I slid my arms around her, my hand sliding down to her firm round bottom. Though her flesh was soft, the muscle beneath was hard as stone.
My cock was rigid against her.
'So you are human.' She smiled, nudging my cock with her sex.
My hand brushed...a tail.
'You have been a naughty girl.' I said tweaking the tail gently.
'Not half as naughty as I'm feeling now.' She pushed her hips forward thrusting her sex against mine.
I heard footsteps and turned.
It was Juanita with Jacintha in tow. The faux-blonde crawled on all fours.
'I think you might be in even more trouble now.' I said, stepping back slightly from her rather more quickly than I should have done and bending to pick up the whip.'
'Just when we were getting down and dirty.' She said in a voice that almost fixed me to the spot.
I put the whip in her mouth and turned to leave, limping slightly as a result of my massive erection.
I went to see to Hellcat and SheFury
CHAPTER 15: TEAMWORK
Our training continued in a similar vein the next day although we finished earlier and had the pleasure of watching the seconds training under the watchful eye of Valentina. The one-eyed coach talked us through a lot of the moves and explained the coaching techniques she used. Even if I hadn't been watching sixteen nubile young women, half of them in bondage and the other half dressed in tight leather gear playing pony and whipping each other I'd have found it interesting.
I'm a performance coach, the closest I ever get to 'teamworking' is handing over the baton in the 4x100m relay. Much of it was new to me, particularly Valentina's approach that all players should be treated equally; equally praised and equally punished according to their level of ability. Ximena and Valeria, the girls she had singled out for punishment the previous time I had watched were among her better players, almost ready for the firsts; other girls in the team she might have praised for doing some of the things that had caused her to punish them. From Ximena and Valeria she expected perfection.
After their piercing, my ponies had been considerably more obedient and, after dinner, I went to see them, once again passing Bryony and PLT asleep in their stall. Rather disappointingly, Rubber Dolly seemed to have escaped punishment this evening and the poles and pillories were empty.
I found Shiraz and Helene chained as they'd been the night before at opposite sides of their stall; Helena, once again, muzzled. Like most of the ponies, it was several days since they had been showered and their scents filled the stall, covered only partially by the fresh straw on the floor.
'We have been awaiting you, Senor.' Shiraz lifted her head and looked up at me. Her dark eyes flashed enticingly. 'We hope Shiraz and Helena are good ponies today ?'
'You were good.' I told her then glanced at Helena who seemed nodded slightly, her dark eyes regarding me warily over the muzzle that covered her mouth and nose.
Shiraz smiled. 'Thank you, Senor.'
There was a moment's silence.
'I came to make sure you were alright.' I said rather lamely.
Shiraz gave a little laugh and looked down at the coil of chain between her knees. 'We are a little sore, Senor.' Then she looked up and smiled up at me. 'You should not worry, Senor. We are ponies, we are here to be used.'
She raised a dark eyebrow suggestively.
I looked at Helena. 'Perhaps I could take this out.' I moved to remove the gag but she drew away.
'Shiraz will be happy to please you, Senor.' She crawled forward slightly on her knees and nuzzled her face against my groin then. I stroked her dark hair for a moment and then, surprisingly deftly, she used her teeth to undo the button of my trousers.
'Shiraz is very skilled, Senor.' She had softly rounded cheeks when she smiled.
In a moment, using just her teeth, lips and tongue she had my cock out and in her mouth.
'Senor is fond of Shiraz ?' She said looking up at me.
She flicked my cock with her tongue and took me into the back of her throat then began to use her lips, rocking her head back and forwards.
I certainly could become very fond of Shiraz.
Shiraz was a girl of many talents; well, a few very sexy ones and I rather thought I'd won her over. However, then I arrived in the stables the next morning I found proper pony gigs in the yard and Reuben, Goose and I were given one of the seconds to use as a pony. Much to my surprise, Helena a Shiraz were given ponies too.
Camilla, my new pony, was another lovely dusky maiden, sleek and beautiful if a little paler than most of the other girls and deliciously fit. She was a little taller than the average pony. When I addressed her in Spanish, she replied in English. 'I am Brazilian, Senor.' She said with the arrogance I had come to expect of one of Don Hernan's ponies. 'And we may as well speak a language we are both comfortable in.'
I got the feeling I was going to have fun driving this one.
We were joined by Valentina driving Ximena and another of the seconds with Valeria between the shafts.
'Remember what I told you.' Valentina said, drawing her gig up beside mine.
I nodded.
'Be ruthless.' She had said. 'Ponies are there to by used... Use them.'
She flicked her whip and pulled away.
I followed.
Even as we headed out of the stable gate I realised it was going to be way more than just fun.
Camilla ran like a dream; from the moment she went to the trot I could tell driving her was something special like the fist time I'd got behind the wheel of Bryony's sports car. She clearly had power and acceleration and was unbelievably responsive to both the reins and the whip. She moved beautifully too; there is something about the way elite athlete's move, something graceful; a relaxation combined with focussed tension and Camilla had this; her trot was perfect and when I took her to the canter I could see a perfect efficiency in the way she ran; just the thought of making her gallop filled me with an eager expectation.
Once we got the practice field, the one on which I'd first seen the seconds in action, I found out just how good she was. We were set a series of tasks, manouevering, driving between poles in the fashion of dressage or field training but I'd never seen any pony do it like Camilla did; not even Barbie or Rubber Dolly. A simple touch on Camilla's reins made her turn and my use of the whip seemed almost overzealous; if Valentina had not exhorted me to use it I would probably have forgotten. Of course, she wasn't hooded for the morning and could thus anticipate but I had a feeling that, once I'd got used to driving her, she'd be just the same blindfolded.
I just hoped I'd be good enough.
I was on a high when we trotted back to the Hacienda for lunch. It was the Wednesday of our first week and, after several days, I was acclimatised to the time difference; I was thus beginning to find the siestas a bit tedious and, after lying down in my room for ten minutes, I decided to go and talk to Goose.
There was no response when I knocked on the door or when I called out to her.
I was just walking away then the door opened.
'Mike ?' She certainly hadn't been asleep. 'Are you ok ?'
'Yes, fine.' I looked at her.
Goose was wrapped in a sheet and clearly wearing nothing underneath it, it parted at the top of her thighs giving me a view of her bare leg; bare that is other than...a pony boot.
He blonde hair hung tangled around her shoulders.
'I just...' I hesitated realising she was clearly busy. 'I, er, fancied a chat.'
'Oh.' She blushed slightly. 'Actually, I'm a bit busy.'
She opened the door to let me see into her room.
She had a pony in there. A pony boy. He was strapped spreadeagele to Goose's bed and was naked other than a hood and his boots. His cock was stiff and drooling and it twitched as I looked at it. There was a whip lying across this thighs.
'What ?' She said a accusingly. 'Don't tell me you're not making use of the local talent with Pretty and Bryony practically sleeping with their tongues in each other's pussies.'
'Senorita ?' The pony boy called.
'Silencio !' Goose admonished. 'Shut up or I will whip your cock again !'
Then she turned back to me with a smile.
'You can come and join us if you like.'
In the afternoon I got to experience Camilla in her full glory; the perfect hooded pony and, as expected, she performed beautifully even if I had a tendency to oversteer her at first. Even blind, she seemed to anticipate well, although I did get to use the whip, particularly when she anticipated wrongly.
'She can be headstrong.' Valentina told me at one point. 'She used to be a player but she is so much more suited to a life between the shafts. It is that sometimes she forgets and tries to think too much. Do not spare the whip.'
I didn't forget the whip and things just got better and better.
As we drove back to the stable, I couldn't resist the urge to find out what she was like at the gallop. I flicked the whip and she responded beautiful, opening her stride, accelerating so quickly it was exhilarating. I pulled away from the group, using the whip to keep her at the sprint. We were two hundred yards away from the stable when I sensed a movement to my right; Ximena was drawing level with me, hooves pounding and when I glanced back I could see Valentina whipping her ferociously; a little further back to the other side was Goose driving her pony hard too.
I flicked the whip again and in my haste caught Camilla between the legs making her stumble for a moment; then she accelerated again; it wasn't much but it was enough to pull away from the others.
I'd trained international athletes less capable.
Only Ximena had any hope of keeping pace and, just to make sure I eased Camilla to the right ensuring that her rival would have to slow before we reached the gate to the stableyard.
We were going so quickly that, as we approached the gate, I had to slow her down; polo gigs don't have brakes. Even so, Camilla pounded into the yard causing heads to turn as I drew her to a stop.
She was breathing hard, her shoulders rising and falling and, as I climbed from the gig, I couldn't resist giving her a pat on the bottom.
'Good girl.' I could smell her sweat; like the other ponies, it was probably a while since she'd been allowed to bathe or shower.
I held her reins feeling a gentle pull on them as I watched her pert little breasts rise and fall.
'Shang yu, Shenor.'
I stroked her breast, toying with the piercings, the little ring in her sensitised nubs and the larger ones on each side; running my finger along the chain that linked her breasts I pushed down and her little mounds were drawn slightly together, the areoles elongated enjoying my complete mastery over her and she pushed her chest forward, clearly excited by my touch. When I ran a finger down her tight belly, tracing a line in the dust and sweat coating her skin, she took a step forward, clearly wanting more.
'I hope you're going to finish the job!' Valentina was standing beside me holding Ximena by her nipple reins.
'She's magnificent.' I said.
'Even better than your little redhead ?' Valentina asked. She was toying with Ximena's nipples.
'There both magnificent on their own way.' I said diplomatically. 'Camilla is clearly a trained athlete.'
'Longjumper.' Valentina said. 'Silver medalist in the last South American games, came fourth in the Olympics.'
'Can I have her tomorrow ?' I asked on impulse.
'You can have her tonight if you like.' Valentina said with a smile. 'Unless you'd prefer one of the boys.'
I stabled Camilla, still in her arm-sheath and boots according to stable protocol. Like many of the more highly trained ponies she had a mounting block in the corner of her stall and, when I lead her in, she knelt down, leaning over it.
'I hope Senor will massage Camilla's legs.' She said looking up at me.
It was a very tempting offer, seeing her kneeling there with her arms tightly restrained and her lovely firm bottom pointed towards me. I knelt down behind her and rubbed my hands together, noticing there was a strap attached to the block.
'Do you need to be strapped down for your massage ?'
'No, Senor.' She laughed. 'That is for when you want to punish your pony.'
A whip hung from the wall above the block, a riding crop that would be no use when driving a pony; a tail with a butt plug hung beside it.
I clapped my hands on her right thigh, starting way higher than I would normally.
'Oh !' Camilla gasped. 'Senor has strong fingers.'
I massaged her right thigh and then her left. I like to think I'm pretty good at sports massages, everything from dealing with cramp to more 'physio' type work; it's fair to say that I've enjoyed it with some athletes more than others.
Camilla's was one of the ones I enjoyed and, by the time I'd finished, my cock was straining for release. I thought of Valentina's offer and was considering taking things further when I heard the sound of gigs entering the courtyard. I clipped Camilla's stall chain to her clit ring and went to look.
It was PLT, Bryony and The-Cat pulling pony gigs. PLT and Bryony were being driven by players from the seconds and Whipped Cream who was driving The-Cat. Jacintha was there with another potra between the shafts of her gig and half a dozen others followed her in.
The ponies were filthy, covered almost from head to foot in grey mud; it coated their skin and their harnesses and was matted in their hair. Most of the players were spattered with mud too.
'Shower them and clean the tack.' Jacintha commanded as the players began to remove their ponies from between the shafts of their gigs.
I watched one of the second team girls start to unbuckle Bryony's harness. The mud coating her hair and body made her almost indistinguishable from the other ponygirls.
'Shall I get this one pierced properly when she's been showered, Mistress ?' The girl asked Jacintha. 'She will be easier to control.'
'Give her a few more days.' Jacintha said but I'm sure the StableMistress will want her done.
'Yes, Mistress.' The girl removed Bryony's bridle. 'You come, Pony !' The girl said to Bryony in English, hooking a finger into one of my lovely fiancee's nipple rings.
Bryony followed still restrained in the polo sheath and still wearing her boots. I knew the girls were kept in their arm restraints and boots but was surprised they were showered in them. However, when the pair reached the shower block, the player freed Bryony's arms and then bent to remove her boot.
Bryony had been strapped into the sheath for a little over seventy two hours but, aside from shrugging her shoulders and stretching her neck, she made little attempt to move her arms; they seemed to hang at her sides, limp and forgotten, pale white in complete contrast to the grey mud covering the rest of her body. Her boots were the same colour as her legs and, as she stepped out of them revealing white feet, I noticed she stayed up on her toes.
I was about to go and talk to her but suddenly found Shiraz at my side.
'Master ?' Shiraz said, her voice thickly accented, pressing herself against me. 'Shiraz like to please you more tonight.'
Helena appeared at my other side sliding her hand into mine.
'Helena please Master !' She pressed herself against me.
Shiraz turned to look at her fellow pony.
'Master prefer Shiraz !' She said angrily, her eyes flashing and her face tensing. 'She please him already.'
'It Helena's turn.' Helena pulled on my arm.
Shiraz grabbed my other arm holding me firmly.
Around me, heads started to turn in my direction.
'Ladies...' I said looking across the yard to see Bryony's player cuff her hands behind her back and lead her into the shower.
I tried to pull free but, for ponies that were supposed to forget the use of their arms, both girls were surprisingly strong.
'Stop it.' I managed to get my hand out of Helena's grip and turned to deal with Shiraz only to feel something land heavily on my shoulders and back. It was Helena, her arms wrapped round my neck and her legs around my waist. I stumbled forward hanging on to Shiraz for support although, she clearly interpreted it as a gesture that I preferred her and, as a consequence, threw herself at me, wrapping her arms around me and pushing her mouth against mine.
The effect of their combined weight was enough to make me lose my balance and the three of us tumbled to the ground.
I was pretty sure I heard laughter around me and was vaguely aware of a crowd gathering as I found myself, once again, pinned in the middle of a cat fight, literally, only this time they were not restrained in any way. For a few moments, there was little I could do but lie there as fought around me, clawing, spitting, pulling hair and hurling abuse at each other around me. Then, I managed to push them apart enough to wriggle free and, grabbing Helena by the hair, I pinned one of Shiraz' arms with my foot and pulled them apart.
Helena struggled for a moment but Shiraz lay still, panting hard with three bleeding scratches on her cheek made by her rival's nails.
'What is happening ?' Valentina pushed through the crowd of onlookers and paused briefly to take in the scene.
'Grooms !' She shouted angrily.
Blue jacketed bodies came forward to grab the two squabbling ponies.
'Restrain them and put them in their stall.' Valentina continued. 'I will punish them later.' She looked at me with a wry smile. 'Are you alright, Miguel ?'
I nodded.
'He's fine.' Goose stepped forward. 'Women fight over him all the time in Mares.' She winked at me and then, as she stepped past the slapped me hard on the bottom.
CHAPTER 16: THE POLO CLUB
We dined with Don Hernan again that evening. A little less grand than the meal with which he had welcomed us but formal enough. This time I definitely recognised couple of the waitresses as potras who'd trained with us. Don Hernan had them dressed up as English maids complete with lace hats and aprons although their dresses had plunging necklines and high hems.
He asked if we'd made progress on our team name and Barbie suggested 'The Knights' given the story of how the Mares Race came into being.
'It is a fine suggestion, Senorita.' Don Hernan said with great charm. 'But it will not do. It means the same as 'Caballero' in Spanish and we already have the Caballeras Azuls.'
We threw around a few more words, mostly relating types of cavalry; we liked 'Hussars' but Reuben pointed out that they were really European. We went back to the village and the Arthurian legend behind the Mares Race and the village's name which some translated as 'Mares of the Lance' referring to them or, at least the lucky one, pulling the knight's chariot, presumably along with his lance. (Despite the stories, it probably had something to do with being near the coast and a place to launch boats into the sea but that wasn't a popular theory in the village even if it was more likely to be correct).
Then, suddenly, Charles came up with 'Lancers'.
'Si !.' Don Hernan cried in triumph.
And so, the 'Mares Lancers' was born.
As the others talked about this in more detail, suggesting designs for a team insignia and strip, Don Hernan took me aside and asked me about my training.
'Yes, I've had a good deal of success...' I told him; I'd learned that modesty didn't pay here.
I knew what was coming.
'And what are your initial thoughts on our our training regime ?' He put his arm round my shoulder in a way that felt slightly threatening but continued on a friendly tone. 'Please, Miguel. I urge you to speak freely. Sometimes one can become insular. It is good to obtain an outside opinion.
Although his manner was friendly there was an edge to his voice, something I'd met before at 'gala' fundraising evenings; investors wanting to know what they would get in return for their donations. When I'd first started out in the business, I'd tried to avoid it but, more recently, I'd learned that 'schmoozing' was an important skill. Don Hernan was shrewd and made no secret of the fact that the PonyGirl Polo Club was a significant business venture and, having provided us with hospitality, he expected a little return from his investment.
I didn't blame him and, quite frankly, I had nothing to loose except, of course that I was in the middle of Argentina, seven thousand miles from home and in a hacienda surrounded by armed guards.
So, for the next thirty minutes, I told him what I thought.
After finding Goose with her pony boy I'd realised I'd not been enjoying my full ration of hot ponyflesh, so, when my little chat with Don Hernan was over, I wandered into the stableyard. The grooms knew me now and I wasn't challenged. Bryony and PLT were sleeping in their usual positions, heads resting on each other's thighs. I planned to visit Camilla. She was, after all, my pony now.
There was another pony being punished, bent over between the whipping posts, her legs spread, tail dangling, arms stretched out wide behind her above the level of her shoulders, a chain from her collar held her bent over.
For a moment, I assumed it was Helena or Shiraz and wondered why only one of them was being singled out, but it didn't really look like either of them, she pony had a fuller body and larger breasts.
It was Rubber Dolly.
I walked towards her noticing a vile smell as I reached her. She stank of mud and I recalled that she hadn't been there when the others had come back. Neither had Stablemistress Mendez-Garcia.
Rubber Dolly lifted her head stiffly; she held the knotted cat in her teeth; she'd obviously been beaten with this again and where mud did not cake her skin, firey red welts notched with red barbs where the knots had struck home decorated her skin.
She opened her mouth, dropping the whip deliberately.
'Ooops.' Despite her exhaustion, her smile was still there.
'You're filthy.' I said it before I'd thought about it
'Hell, yes...' Her voice oozed sex. 'Has it really taken you all this time to figure that out ?'
'I mean...'
'Apparently it's an initiation rite. We had to train by running through the mud then they pelted me with it, and when the others had gone, that fucking bitch dragged me through it by my ankles.' She seemed remarkably sanguine about it. 'I have mud in places a girl should never get mud.'
'You did say you wanted to get dirty.' I said with a smile.
'Oh, I'm way beyond dirty.' She grinned showing me her teeth. 'I'm filthy !'
'I...'
'I'm a dirty, filthy slut !' She moved in her bonds. 'Use me, you bastard. It's the least you can do for leaving me hanging the other night.'
My cock was rigid again as I walked around her looking at her helpless body, mine for taking. 'You really do enjoy being treated like this ?'
'Hell, yes.' She shot back. 'Now stop talking and use me like the filthy cum whore I am.'
I bent and picked up the whip.
'Oh, good boy.' Her voice was shaking. 'Beat your slutty whore until she begs to suck your cock.'
Stepping behind her, I brought the whip down across her bottom enjoying the hiss of the tines and the slap across her bottom.
'That's for dropping the whip'
'Yes...' She strained against her chains and they creaked. 'Yes, good boy'
The curve of her bottom was beautiful, a perfect roundness and her legs were spread for me. I brought the whip down again.
'You will call me, 'Sir'. I struck her again.
'Yes, Sir.' Her whole body was shaking.
I brought the whip down again.
'That's for being so filthy.'
'Yes, Sir.'
I struck again.
'And that's for being a slut.'
'Yes, Sir.'
'Open your mouth.'
She obeyed and I put the whip back into it. She grasped it eagerly with her teeth.
'Uze me.' She said around the whip. 'Pleashe, Shir !.' She was panting.
I opened my trousers and stepped close behind her, sliding her tail to one side.
'Yesh !' She gasped as my cock brushed her sex. 'Fugg, me, Shir !'
She was mine, completely mine and the thrill of it filled my body. I could take her any way I chose.
I smiled and grasped her tail, turning the locking flange.
'Whad...' She squirmed slightly. 'You bashtrad...'
I slid the tail out and pushed my hard cock against her ring.
'You lovely bashtard.'
I pushed my cock inside, nearly cumming at the intense thrill of her sphincter spasming around me.
'Yesh...'
I bent over her reaching down and cupped her breasts, they were deliciously firm and the skin smooth under the coating of dried mud which cracked under my fingers as I squeezed them before thrusting again.
'Of, fugg !' She twitched in her bonds, climaxing. Her sphincter spasmed again and I nearly lost control.
'You are a really bad girl.' I whispered almost thinking out loud.
'Oh, yesh....'
'A wicked slut...'
'Yesh, Shir !' Her voice was strained, intense. 'Punish me !'
'I think you'd enjoy it too much.' Even so, I pinched her nipples hard aware I was compressing the tender flesh against her piercing rods.
She moaned and my body ached with the pleasure of dominating her.
I thrust again keeping a firm hold on her nipples.
'Oh, God.' She didn't climax this time but pushed back against me; my balls pressed against her pierced sex.
I moved my right hand down between her legs, feeling the ring in her clit and exploring the array of rings in her labia.
She climaxed again and this time I couldn't stop myself. I drove in hard, slamming my balls against her sex, my hands groping for purchase on her helpless body to increase the sensation, forcing her forwards to the limit of her bondage, my balls spasming and my cock firing deep inside her as I pumped hard emptying myself into her.
Fuck !
When I was finally spent, I stopped, finding one finger hooked into her clit ring another other twisted in her left nipple ring.
I just knew she was smiling.
'You've dropped the whip.' I told her.
'Yes, Sir.' She said. 'You'll have to punish me now.'
'You did not visit Camilla last night.' The lovely Portuguese pony said as I entered her stable. She knelt, chained to the wall by her clit ring, arms still sheathed as I had left her the night before. She had clearly been fed; there was porridge on her lips, nose and cheeks and her long hair hung partly free.
Friday morning and the start of another beautiful day in the stables !
'I found other amusement.' I told her.
'Sim ! Camilla noticed.' She pouted. 'You only have appetite enough for one woman ?'
I'd fucked Rubber Dolly three times.
She glared up at me with smoldering dark eyes.
'You are a very insolent pony.' I told her.
'Sim. I am a polo pony, my spirit cannot be broken.'
'That is a challenge I would like to take up.'
'It is a challenge you would loose.' Her dark eyes flashed.
'Then I will enjoy trying.'
On her knees, in bondage, I could easily have whipped her.
'Then you had better put me securely in harness and make me obey you.'
I wondered if all the ponies in the stable were as spirited as the ones I'd met so far.
I certainly hoped so.
I freed her clit ring from the night chain, attached the lead rein I held to her nipples and then pulled her to her feet, holding the reins near her neat little breasts. Lead reins are light, loops of leather with a clip on each end and are designed to fasten to the central ring, the one through the nipple itself; it gives more control and, by holding it, I was pulling her pierced nipples gently together and towards me.
Then I stroked them gently.
'Senor does like his pony then.' She said, her cheeks colouring slightly and her nipples swelling at my touch.
'I was just wondering if your nipples had been conditioned recently ?'
'Three weeks ago, Senor.' There was, I thought, a slight waver in her voice.
'I like my ponies to be responsive.' I told her. 'Perhaps it is time to refresh your obedience.'
Although she was tall, I was taller and I was able to look down on her. Intimidation can be a useful tactic when you need to push someone.
Her eyes looked straight ahead rather than at me.
'I am not due to be done until next week, Senor.' She looked slightly pale.
I had definitely rattled her despite her bravado.
There was another lead rein hanging on the wall and I took it up, feeling between her legs to find her restraining ring and clipping it in place. Then I let my hand linger there, my fingers teasing her gently.
'You do not appear to have a training partner.'
'No, Senor.' Her voice was unsteady.
'Nobody to share a stable with.'
'No, Senor.'
'It must be lonely.' I continued to tease her.
'Sim, Senor.' He eyes flicked toward me.
'Frustrating.'
She was getting wet.
'Sim, Senor.'
'Chained up at night, unable to satisfy all those urges.'
'Sim, Senor.' She nodded curtly. She was breathing a little quickly.
I took my hand away and she looked at me with shock.
'I expect my ponies to be responsive.' I told her. 'Always.'
'Sim, Senor.' Her cheeks and breasts were red, her nipples stiff.
'You are an insolent mare !' I told her. 'You will wear a tail today.'
'Sim, Senor.'
She bent forward immediately and I lubricated the tail on her sex before pushing it in and locking it in place with a twist.
Then I took her hood off its peg and pulled it over her head, pulling her tangled hair through the ring in the back and then lacing it up.
'And if you misbehave, I will have your nipples conditioned.'
'Sim, Senor.'
I started to lead her forwards and she followed obediently; she was afterall leashed with rings piercing her nipples and clit.
'Senor.' She stopped suddenly and I heard her gasp at the pull in her intimate piercings. 'You have not broken, Camilla yet.' I saw her smile through the hood. 'But she is glad you know how to handle an insolent pony.'
There was more drilling in the morning and, in the afternoon, I even got to play with the ball. Camilla was delightfully obedient; even more responsive to the reins and the whip and I tried to concentrate on the precise control I learned in the last few days. I remembered Valentina's comment about Camilla trying to outthink her player and I thus made a point of dominating her completely; I'd done it with Bryony in training on a few other occasions, using the whip for any tiny indiscretion, any fractional delay in response time.
With her speed and agility my new pony easily out performed all the others despite my rather inexperienced handling; although, after a week of drilling, I was getting the hang of guiding a pony through polo moves.
As usual, we trained alongside the potras although today we worked under the direction of StableMistress Juanita herself. Aside from Camilla, there were no other second team ponies or players; even their coach Valentina had abandoned us. Shiraz and Hellcat were thus back together, Helena in harness; and PLT had been given charge of Bryony. Goose had Jacintha and, of course, Reuben was driving Rubber Dolly although, when it was necessary to demonstrate something, Juanita usually abandoned her pony boy and used Rubber Dolly, taking great delight in whipping the lovely brunette brutally until she performed the manoeuvre to the stablemistress' satisfaction.
We all knew why the seconds weren't with us; they were all preparing for the match the next day.
CHAPTER 17: THE JAGUARS
I kept Camilla hooded as I lead her by the lead rein back to her stall, then pulled her to her knees.
'May I speak, Master ?' She asked as I began to unlace her hood.
'Yes.'
'May Camilla congratulate master on the way he handled his pony today ?' Her body was still warm, wet with sweat; I could smell her scent mixed with leather and, as I pulled the hood off her head the heat it contained rolled over me. Her black hair was wet, stuck to her skin, across her face and in her mouth.
'She may ask but I think she continues to be insolent.' I tidied her hair, brushing it away from her face.
'Camilla thinks Master prefers a pony who is...less docile.' I thought she was smiling. 'They are...more interesting.'
'They also require more punishment.'
'Camilla hopes that is the case. She has noticed Master is particularly...diligent...in punishing errant ponies.' She was definitely smiling now. 'Camilla hopes Master will spend the evening...disciplining her.'
'Camilla is very presumptuous for a pony.'
'But she is also very desirable.'
'My pony has a very high opinion of herself.'
'Your pony has every right to be.'
'Then why is my pony not playing for the seconds tomorrow ?' I asked. 'Or not already in the firsts.'
There was a moment's silence.
'This is a very traditional stable, Master.' She was speaking slowly, choosing her words carefully, the banter of a few moments ago forgotten. 'Camilla has...different views from some of the coaches. Camilla is also Brazilian.'
'I've been told there are ponies from other countries in the firsts.'
'It is true Master but they are...more obedient.'
'Then perhaps Camilla should be a more obedient pony.'
'But then Camilla would not be Camilla.' She looked up at me. Her face was red, the skin puffy from a day inside the hood, her hair was wet and tangled and she smelt of sweat and leather but her eyes were shining and her body perfect.
'Use me, Master.'
I crouched in front of her, my hands drawn inevitably to her nipple rings.
'Is Camilla trying to be more obedient ?' I asked with a grin.
'It is true, Master, that Don Hernan would expect you to treat my body in any way you chose.' She looked at me with an urgency I was beginning to feel too. 'But mostly Camilla asks it because being in harness makes her hot and very horny and she right now needs a man to fuck her hard.'
I wasn't quite sure what to say.
She looked and me; she was quite a pretty girl despite the flush in her face; then she cast her eyes down.
'Camilla...enjoyed being Master's pony today.' She licked her lips. 'She wishes to share that pleasure and encourage him to return to her later.'
'And what would Camilla have master do later.'
'Camilla hopes that Master will remove this tail and, after spanking her hard, fuck her in the arse until she cums like the anal slut she is.'
Christmas eve began with a roar of engines and clatter of blades and I looked out of my window to see a helicopter settling on the grass pitch in front of The Hacienda where I had seen the seconds training on my first day. I went out onto my balcony and saw a man emerge; he was dressed in a linen suit and I watched as he ducked low under the blades. A moment later, a second figure emerged, a woman in a white skirt suit.
The helicopter took off and a few moments later a second one arrived from which another woman emerged.
We met the new arrivals at breakfast; Don Hernan's brother who was a younger version of Don-Hernan himself, complete with Zorro style moustache; Don Hernan's wife who was, not surprisingly attractive and well dressed and probably, in her late thirties, several years younger than her husband. The third arrival, the woman in the white suit was one of the most beautiful women I have even seen; I accept I have a bit of thing for those brown Spanish eyes and thick dark hair and would drop anything if Penelope Cruz or Stephanie Beatriz asked me to give her some coaching; but allowing for the fact I had been surrounded by them for the last week, this woman was off the scale; breathtakingly beautiful did not do her justice and when she smiled at me I could easily have fallen in love. As well as beauty, she had grace and a perfect body as far as I could see (the white suit was very tight and the skirt was very short; those tanned toned legs were almost mesmerising. I suspected she would be perfectly home in harness but from the way she looked, I suspected she liked to hold the whip hand. This was Marie-Argenta, Don Hernan's younger sister.
Goose took great delight in pointing out I'd poured coffee over the table instead of into my cup but at least did the service of dragging me out to the stableyard for morning practice before I did something really embarrassing.
We finished practice at lunchtime and had just returned to the stable for lunch when we heard cries of excitement in the stableyard and went to see that other team had arrived for the afternoon match.
This was allegedly a 'friendly' between the Don Hernan's seconds and a fairly new stable in the BA PonyGirl Polo Club; but I knew Valentina was taking it very seriously.
That it was a friendly on the part of the opposition wasn't clear either.
The visitors were the Jaguars and they arrived in a massive grey coach with the name of the team in large cream letters down the side; the bus was also painted with the team logo, a leaping Jaguar and depicted rather fantastical creatures that were part woman and part cat that would not have looked out of place in a comic book. However, when the door opened and the team emerged, it was clear the designs were not a fanciful as I might have imagined.
The first figure to emerge was a woman, crawling on all fours, muzzled; she was naked save a very rudimentary harness that was little more than a collar and belts above and below her breasts small breasts; boots and gloves; her skin was decorated with the markings of the jaguar and her hair short and spiked, dyed a pale blonde that was almost white; she had a tail too, short and think, more like a cat's than a pony's. As she crawled down the ramp, she strained at her leash which was held by what I can only describe as an Amazon warrior; tall and busty and wearing a fur bikini that I wished was fake but was probably real jaguar skin. The girl wore a gold collar and fur boots. Like her pet, she surveyed us with a brazen arrogance.
I'd assumed these were some sort of mascot but then another emerged and another, and I gathered these were the ponies and their players.
'Polo is all about showmanship.' Don Hernan had told me.
The strange procession circled the yard, the 'jaguars' snarling and spitting, fierce, straining at their collars and their Amazon handlers pulling on their leashes and using their whips. Finally, the stable owner Don Carlo emerged with a woman who I took to be his wife on his arm.
He was older than Don Hernan. white haired, thin and distinguished.
Don Hernan welcomed him, shaking his hand and kissing his wife affectionately; he introduced the family too and his visiting 'team' from England. Don Carlo smiled warmly, giving Goose, I noticed, rather more than a passing smile and pressing her hand to his lips.
'So when will you join the Club ?' Don Carlo asked us.
'We are in the early stages, Don Carlo.' Don Hernan interrupted, inviting his guest along with the rest of us to take a glass of sherry before the match.
'Does your team plan to join my brother's club ?'
I looked round to see Maria-Argenta standing beside me all huge dark eyes and long lashes fluttering.
'Er...' My mouth went dry.
I tried to formulate a reply in Spanish but couldn't think of a word.
'I think we will need a little more training.' I said in English.
'You are the coach are you not ?' She was speaking ideomatic English with barely the trace of an accent.
'Yes...no...' I stammered. 'I am a coach but not for...our team.'
'You seem uncertain, Senor Miguel.' She asked with a flash of white teeth and perfect glossy pink lips that had me blushing like a schoolboy. 'And yet, for some reason, my brother is under the impression you are a very capable sports coach.'
'I coach athletics.' I tried to explain. 'For polo I'm...just one of the team.'
'The team ?' She raised one of those dark, perfectly groomed eyebrows. 'You have male players...ponyboys, perhaps ?'
'Our ponies are girls but some of our...players are men.' Goose stepped up beside me.
'And are they all as fit as you ?' Maria-Argenta slid a hand inside my jacket and touching my shoulder.
'I...' My jaw dropped and, if I'm completely honest, my cock stiffened.
'I'd have thought you were most suited to being a pony.'
'Well, I...' I stammered in a very small voice as my cock swelled almost uncontrollably.
'Yes.' Goose appeared and, for once, to be on my side. 'Why are there only ponygirls ?'
Maria-Argenta turned on her and I felt a mixture of relief and profound disappointment.
I watched Maria-Argenta smile.
'Sex !' She said. 'This is Argentina where men are men and women know their place.'
'And what place is that Donna Maria ?' Goose said with what I can only describe as a mischievous smile.
If the comment was meant to bait Maria-Argenta, she didn't rise it.
'The use of male players is traditional, Senorita Goose, but the women's game is faster and what is not to like about two women together...'
It looked like Maria-Argenta and Goose and could agree on this point; the lovely dark Hispanic and the Nordic blonde...
'And is there a place for ponyboys ?' Goose asked with an innocent expression. 'Your stablemistress seems partial to them.'
'Ponyboys are best kept for pleasure.' Maria-Argenta said, her dark eyes flashing. 'When one is relaxing, there is little more satisfying than putting a ponyboy through his paces to see what he is capable of.'
They both looked at me.
'Maria.' Don Hernan appeared beside his sister. 'The family should meet.'
'Of course, brother.' Maria-Argenta demurred as all good Argentine women are, apparently, supposed to. 'A pleasure to meet you Senorita Goose...' She said with a smile. 'And you, Miguel. I hope to have the satisfaction of seeing what you are capable of before I leave.'
My first (proper) polo match was even more incredible than I'd expected; I'd seen the youtube clips and I'd played that game in Mares-de-Launce; I'd even watched the seconds training but the sight of eight lithe female ponygirls tightly strapped into harness, semi-naked, hooded and bridled driven by eight more nubile young women, mercilessly whipping them was as intensely erotic as it was exciting; and it was exciting; it was vicious too, no quarter given, more gladiatorial combat than contact sport; hard fit, young female bodies slamming against each other; the snap of the whip on bare flesh, cries of anguish and frustration and blood. I understood, it was not unusual for a pony to be stretchered off. Valentina had lost her eye when a shaft had broken and pierced her hood.
It was obvious why this sport was beginning to attract a following even without the obvious draw of fit young women in bondage being used as human ponygirls.
Ninety percent of the game is in the drop and it's the first drop that really counts and the visitors won it, not a good sign for Don Hernan's Caballeras Azuls. However, the home team didn't give and inch, contesting every ball, players scrapping, blindly obedient ponies slamming into each other and into gigs and I'm sure whips were used on more than ponies.
Valentina refereed the match, using Camilla as her pony dealing out punishments freely, strokes of the whip across the breasts for players and ponies alike, although mostly to ponies. It gave me quite a thrill to see Camilla in action under the whip of a skilled player, albeit not one who was competing especially remembering what I'd done to that beautiful body the night before. Her harness was more ornate and traditional in white leather with a girdle and breast rings like Mares' field harnesses and her arm sleeve was in the more classic armbinder style; she was plumed too but, like the other ponies, Camilla was hooded, her dark ponytail dancing behind the smooth white leather as she ran. There was, I understood a standing joke in polo circles when one disagreed with a decision made by the referee to question who was wearing the hood; the ref or her pony.
The visitors were good; their ponies moving precisely, accelerating quickly and turning with agility in a way that did justice to their team name. I noticed that their ponies wore harnesses like the ones we'd used in Mares-de-Launce, their wrists strapped to their chests just below their breasts, hands (or 'paws') in leather mitts; I saw that their elbows were pulled slightly together forcing their shoulders back. Although all the ponies were pierced, they used bit reins.
Watching the teams in action quickly made me realise where I was going wrong in my game; there was no hesitation, both teams were utterly committed, driver and pony, even as flesh slammed into bare flesh and gigs rolled leaving ponies' legs flailing in the air. As I watched the match, I remembered Maria-Argenta's comment about the women's game being faster. It was; and it made all the training I'd seen look as if they'd been doing it half speed.
Despite the determination among the Don Hernan's girls, at the end of the first chukka the Jaguars were three-one up.
In the first break, I watched Juanita give the seconds a team talk that sounded as devoid of latin passion as it was heavy in solemnity. I wished I was close enough to hear what she was saying although, I suspected it might involve the threat of pussy whipping the whole team.
Valentina glowered at them as she stood to one side stroking Camilla's flanks. I wondered it she too might be in the firing line (whipping line ?) should her team lose.
When Carmen lead her team out for the second half, Don Hernan's leather clad Caballeras Azuls had a clear look of determination; however the Jaguars glared back, giving a deep roar as they moved to take up their positions on the field.
Unusually, there was a false start at the beginning of the second chukka, the visitor's centre attack coming off the line too quickly, too much excitement from the young redheaded ponygirl. I thought they were both early but Cream sitting next to me reminded me about the anticipation.
'It's that instant to ball touches the ground.' She said. 'Not the bounce, not the dust, not the sound.'
Valentina trotted Camilla down to the start line and gave the pony a series of sharp raps across the breasts with his whip.
I suggested this was a little unfair but Cream disagreed.
'A good pony just knows...' Cream said. 'That's the way it works. Besides, the player will suffer far worse from her stable master after the match for such a perceived loss of control.' She added that both girls would probably be dropped for the next few matches if she did it again. In the Caballeras Azuls, the pony would be sent to the cheerleaders for the rest of the season and the player would wind up between the shafts of a gig in the training stable as a whipping girl for the potras to practice with.
There was no mistake the second time and, in her hesitancy, the visitor lost the ball to Carmen, the seconds' captain who went on to score with a beautiful display of manoeuvring and passing and I wondered if the tide was about to turn; but the little red headed pony and her player came right back at the next drop as Valentina tossed the ball out; sprinting across the field and colliding with Carmen's pony with such force that both gigs tipped back and the ponies were left with their legs flailing wildly while their players fought to prevent themselves overturning. The Jaguar player managed to regain control first, scooping up the ball and the visitors surged forward to support the little red-headed centre attack pony who accelerated forward under a brutal whipping from her player. The Caballeras' hustler drove in to block the attack; there was another collision and I saw the little redheaded pony stagger from the impact of a gig shaft that rammed into her thigh; her player passed the ball and the whipped the little redhead into a somewhat limping gait. The visitors' advance continued unabated; to my untrained eye they looked just as proficient as Don Hernan's Blues passing the ball and evaded any attempt to block them as they whipped their ponies forward.
The Jaguars' quarterback scored and at the next drop took over in the centre attack role, the little redhead, dropping back into defense, obviously limping and at the next drop she limped off as a sub came on. I later discovered she'd sustained a fractured thigh. The pert brunette that replaced her was just as tenacious, perhaps trying to prove herself. She had, of course, spent the game so far hooded and I suspect she had little understanding of what was going on though must have guessed something was amiss if she was brought on as centre attack in the second chukka.
As the melee continued, I overcame my initially awe and was able to see a little more about the way the ponies maneouvred, watching them execute set pieces; seeing how the riders used the reins and their whips to control the girls. The visitors' new centre attack was a little slower than their starting pony and this gave Carmen a slight advantage which she pressed home eagerly but the Jaguar's hustler was a real fighter; the pony slightly stockier as, I was learning, they often are; her player thinking nothing of driving her pony headlong into the other team's ponies just as Don Hernan's hustler had done in the incident that had injured the redhead. As well as using her pony as a battering ram, the the busty 'Amazon' player used her whip indiscriminately on ponies and players alike, accepting and, almost enjoying punishments she and her pony repeatedly received from Valentina.
Shortly before the end of the second chukka the hustler's pony sustained a gash to her belly and play was suspended while she was bandaged up. Rather than bring on their second sub, the pair were sent back into defense to let the pony catch her breath but the quarterback had other ideas and her willing pony seemed unaffected by her injury. The pair spent most of the time jsut behind the centre line, galloping back as needed and just before the end of the chukka, the player pulled off a remarkable save having whipped the girl to full gallop, knocked Don Hernan's quarterback to one side and blocked a shot from their centre-attack in a move that had the crowd on its feet. She then gathered up the ball and drove her injured pony at full gallop to score just as the whistle sounded for the end of the chukka.
The rest of the match was just as amazing; continuing to supply a heady mix of excitement and erotica; seminaked ponygirls in bondage, lathered with sweat, their skins glistening, bodies glowing; lifting tired legs under merciless whipping; their backs and buttocks marked with an increasingly dense mass welts and bruises; they drooled round their bits, saliva running freely onto their bare breasts and, in the case of the blues, running over nipples that must have been throbbing with agony. I found it hard to believe that these women wanted to do this, wanted to be kept naked and restrainted, chained up, pierced intimately at the whim of their stablemistress, whipped on a daily basis and forced to perform under threat of even severe punishment.
Don Hernan had told me he had more applicants for his stable than he could take, many of them recently were already accomplished athletes; more than one of his ponies had represented Argentina or, in some cases other countries in international track events, several had medaled; one of the other teams in the Club had a couple of swimmers too, one of who had won gold in the last Olympics.
By the end of the final chukka, another pony, one of the Jaguars, had been stretchered off with an obviously broken lower leg and two of the remaining ponies were limping, their legs strapped up. Even the subs looked exhausted. Though relatively protected, the players were bruised and battered and two had broken fingers. Watching their determination had been just as much of a thrill as watching the pony girls. In Don Hernan's stable all girls started out as ponies, some became players and all were as fit and as hot as Whipped Cream in her leathers; I didn't know if the busty dominant Amazons of the visitors every sweated between the shafts but, if they didn't, they certainly trained hard; perhaps it was hard to be a pony with double-Ds.
The match ended with a victory for Don Carlo's Jaguars, eleven goals to six.
Don Hernan did not look best pleased as he congratulated the visiting stable owner but his words were cordial.
Don Carlo on the other hand was, understandably elated and, after a brief conversation with Don Hernan went to congratulate his stablemaster and his ponies and players who seemed to show genuine affection for their owner.
As the visitors celebrated, I noticed Juanita lead a dejected looking Carmen off in the direction of the stables.
CHAPTER 18: THE SPOILS OF VICTORY
After the match between the Caballeras Azuls and the Jaguars, Don Hernan threw a party on the lawn beside the Hacienda.
This was intended to be a relaxed affair; champagne and an elegant buffet served by waitresses wearing nothing more than toe boots and steel collars. However, there was a definite undercurrent of tension as a result of the home team's defeat.
The players were invited, the visiting players all appearing in their jaguar skin bikinis and boots, heeled this time to add to the allure of their powerful bodies as they strutted around the gathering with their leashed, muzzled charges (perhaps best described as 'petgirls') crawling at their sides.
The loosing players attended too in their blue leather bolero bustiers and tiny ultratight shorts but did not take part, kneeling with their ponies in a line to one side, the ponies still in full harness and bridle, hooded again (if they'd ever been released), arms restrained behind them in the triangular training sheaths.
There was no sign of Carmen, the seconds' captain, and I suspected her evening would be considerably less pleasant.
Bruises on the kneeling girl's breasts, players and ponies, suggested they had already been chastised and, I suspected probably would be again; the players would most likely be punished as much as the ponies once extracted from their leather clothes.
Goose and I were re-introduced to Don Carlos who was at least twenty years older than Don Hernan; with his receding white hair but radiated a youthful sparkle with the elation of his victory. The Cabelleras Azuls was the top team in the Club and, for an upcoming side like his, to beat them, even the second team was a triumph. He flirted gently with the Goose, who was dressed this evening in a sleeveless pink linen blouse, white miniskirt and heeled boots; to my surprise, she flirted back. He showed quite an interest in the village and the pony race to the point of suggesting that perhaps he could enter a 'mare' in the coming year's race.
Goose agreed to put it to the committee and, before I knew it, they were swapping email addresses and phone numbers.
The early evening entertainment was provided by Barbie in the form of one of her dressage routines. Prancing in her dress harness between the shafts of a borrowed gig, the huge breasted blonde drew quite a crowd as she performed under the direction of Charles' whip. The kinky trollop was clearly pulling out all the stops, exchanging her usual purple for 'azul' and wearing a corset that I would swear was at least two inches smaller that her usual dressage girdle, giving her what was literally and hour-glass figure and further emphasing her huge chest and the flare of her hips and lovely round bottom. She wore a tail too that danced like her hair, perhaps demonstrating to the assembled company that, like the Caballeras' cheerleaders, she was there as eye-candy. Her clit and nipple bells jangled above the backing music as she moved, hooded and utterly obedient to the whip and her single clit rein, thighs rising like pistons, feet en-point. I was pretty sure she was stuffed with huge dildo too like the one I'd seen after she'd performed in Mares-de-Launce at my first pony race.
After this, it was Rubber Dolly's turn, negotiating a hastily constructed obstacle course which was not all that different to some of the training courses the ponies at the Hacienda used. The sexy brunette performed beautifully although it was a few years since she'd entered the field events, marking time, with perfect knee lifts and reversing and jumping on command; she looked gorgeous between the shafts of Reuben's gig but from the bruises on her skin was clear she'd suffered a lot of abuse, most of it I suspected from the stablemistress. There seemed barely a square inch of flesh on her usually perfect white skin that wasn't scratched or bruised and I'd heard rumours that, after the incident with the river mud, Juanita had driven the sultry mare back and forth through a thicket of brambles until she'd been so exhausted, she ended up helplessly tangled in them and had to be cut free. The stablemistress had then punished her for such weakness with a pussy whipping before spending the night enjoying the lovely brunette's new tongue stud while dripping hot wax all over the helpless beauty's breasts and nipples.
Reuben, it seemed was entirely happy with this arrangement and, after the match I seen him off to take a tumble in the hay with a fully harnessed ponyboy. It seemed that Reuben and the lovely Miss Carter had a very open relationship; although, of course Bryony and I were enjoying a similar degree of freedom here in Argentina; an opportunity to sow our wild oats as it were. Bryony I knew, as well as sleeping with PLT's head between her thighs was being passed among the coaches and established ponies all eager to enjoy her (to them) exotic charms and considerable oral skills. By all accounts, it was role she was thoroughly enjoying and, I'd heard, when not being made to munch, lick or suck pussy my fiancee was confronted with a line of ponyboys and stable hands eager to experience her willingness to make her various orifices available to them.
It's as well I'm not a jealous man and that I had the distraction of free and ready access to nubile ponies, kinky players and horny dancers.
I think some of the crowd were a little perplexed by the fact that the dressage and obstacle course were events in themselves and not training for something more significant. Cream tried to explain but I'm not sure it cut much ice. However, as Reuben, recently returned from his tryst with the ponyboy, drove Rubber Dolly off the course, Juanita stopped him.
'How difficult can it be ?' She asked, almost elbowing him out of the gig in her haste to have a little more whip time with the helpless brunette between the shafts.
Rubber Dolly seemed confused for a moment but, obedient little mare that she was, trotted back onto the course with Juanita's whip slashing across her buttocks.
'Come on you worthless cunny slit !' Jacintha called, presumably dispelling any doubt in the sultry mare's mind, if any existed, as to who was driving her so brutally.
To be fair, Juanita made a pretty good fist of it though her technique was a little rough and, on a couple of occasions, I think, Rubber Dolly was deliberately difficult. It reminded me of Camilla's comment about taming a polo pony.
When Rubber Dolly trotted off the course clearly exhausted from her double performance, Juanita was clearly exerting her control by holding the lovely mare's clit rein eyewateringly tight as she lashed her mercilessly forward. When they got back to the stables, I guessed Rubber dolly was in for a hell of a night.
Whatever the crowd thought of our village entertainment, Don Hernan applauded loudly and everyone accordingly joined in.
As before, he seemed particularly taken with Barbie and, putting his arm around Charles lead him off for a quiet discussion leaving me literally holding the reins.
Barbie might be pushing fifty but she was nearly as hot close up as she was in the dressage arena. Standing next to me in her on her toes, body corseted and head upright, her posture enforced by the tight bondage of her arms and a punishing high neck stock, she looked like the perfect (ponified) sex doll. She was a woman who clearly looked after herself and the breast implants stretched her skin giving her bare breasts a surprisingly youthful look, I'm pretty sure she's had something done to her bottom too. I couldn't help patting it gentle.
'Gog !' She said through her gag, a simple bit rather than the usual huge ball gags she customarily wore. 'I'm sho gugging horny !'
She rubbed her thighs together.
She smelt of sweat and sexual arousal.
Cassie was right; her mother was a slut.
Then I heard a sound, a soft buzzing.
It was coming from Barbie.
I couldn't resist pressing my hand against her belly and then sliding it down.
Her whole belly was quivering and, as I probed between her legs feeling passed the rein clipped to her clit, I could feel something hard vibrating; it was big too, bulging through her labia which were stretched around it; tiny chains between the piercing rings holding it in place; some sort of sex toy stuffed into her vagina; she must have had a hell of a time performing her dressage.
'Gugg !' She said swaying slightly. 'I shing I'm going do gum !'
She swayed more violently, panting around her gag the bells dangling from her swollen rouged nipples tinkling.
'I'm going do be sho bunished !' She was clearly excited by the prospect. 'He'll probably keeb me lige sthis all nighg now.'
The buzzing stopped abruptly and Charles reappeared.
I removed my hand from between Barbie's legs. She was panting furiously, nostrils flaring inside the hood almost as much as they had done when she'd finished her performance.
'Remote controlled vibrator.' Charles held out a little silver disk with two buttons on it. 'Perhaps you should get one for Bryony.'
'I might do that.' I said smiling as I handed Barbie's rein back to her owner.
'With a bit of practice, you'll be able to keep her edged for hours.' He winked. 'You should have seen last time we went to the opera. She was panting like she'd run the Mares' race.'
I didn't doubt it.
'Why two buttons ?' I had to ask.
'There's a vibrator in her tail plug too.'
'Ngggg !' Barbie squeaked loudly shaking her head as much as she was able in the high neck corset.
A few heads turned in our direction.
'She does love to be the centre of attention.' Charles laughed. 'Come along darling.' He turned his attention to the frustrated mare. 'Another hour or two and you'll be ready for what I have in mind.'
He tugged on her leash and she followed him obediently, walking with perfect balance on her toes, hips swaying and nipple bells clinking gently.
We watched the sun set over the mountains which cast the Hacienda and it's field into shadow long before the plain below us. The floodlights came on and then there was dancing on a wooden platform laid out for the purpose; more paso-dobles and Argentine tangos. As before, these involved girls in flimsy skirts and tight corsets, the flash of stocking tops and the promise of more. There was another slave girl dancing too, not Saher, sadly but just and beautiful and deliciously voluptuous in this world of trim ponies.
As well as the classic Spanish dances, performed a belly dance, clicking finger cymbals between her fingers and somehow shaking nipple bells in time to the music.
As she performed, I asked Don Hernan about Saher.
'Did she not tell you ?' He asked, somewhat surprised.
'Tell me ?'
'She is denied.' He paused for a moment as if thinking that he may have used the wrong English word although his English was perfect. 'Being...prepared for her next...performance. Some women exist purely for the pleasure of men and they are best saved...until they are truly desirous of providing that pleasure.'
I looked at him feeling rather confused.
'Saher is kept under a strict regime.' He continued, clearly rather enjoying the explanation now he had embarked on it. 'Teased regularly...constantly, but very firmly denied.' The fact that she the denial referred to sexual climax was obvious from his expression. 'I think by now she will be allowed four hours to sleep in the night, in a week or two it will be less than an hour. The rest of her time will be spent dancing, training to give pleasure or...being pleasured; often all at once.'
He smiled, clearly amused.
'The lovely Saher has a implant on the vagus nerve.' His fingers brushed the side of his neck. 'I believe it is used normally to prevent epileptic seizures, the discharges in the nerve alerting a device implanted in the body to stimulate the nerve and avert a seizure. I am told that arousal builds through the vagus nerve too and, it fires repeatedly just before orgasm. In Saher's case, the device fires and calms the nerve a few moments before orgasm.'
I stared at him.
'When the device is active, she can be constantly stimulated but always denied orgasm. When she is ready to be used, the device is turned off. She is allowed her one night of pleasure a month.' His smile became cruel. 'As that time approaches, her screams of frustration can sometimes be heard through the whole of the complex no matter how securely she is gagged. Tahali there...' He nodded towards the belly dancer. 'Has a similar implant. She also has takes the same pleasure from the anal beads...' He added with a wink.
Don Hernan seemed to have a way of finding out every secret in the Hacienda.
'And tonight...?' I asked looking at the voluptuous brunette swinging her long hair and thrusting her hips forward suggestively. As she turned, I was sure I could see the tip of her anal beads.
Don Hernan smiled. 'Tonight it is Tahali's turn. I would offer her to you, Miguel, but courtesy dictates I give Don Carlos first refusal and I'm sure he will accept.'
'Of course.' I said rather quietly.
'There are advantages to being part of the oldest and most powerful family in the new world.'
He slipped an olive into his mouth and turned away.
Goose and I were preparing to leave when Don Carlos called me over. He was standing among his players, and their leashed, muzzled ponygirls, or petgirls or whatever they were who knelt obediently at their mistresses' sides. His wife stood beside him holding Tahali, the belly dancer, leashed by a nipple ring and teasing the girl's other nipple as she waited for her husband to say his goodnights.
Looking carefully at her neck just below the bottom of the dancing girl's collar, I thought I could see a faint scar.
'Perhaps one of my Jaguars takes your fancy ?' He said to me with a smile. 'And you, Senorita Goose ?'
They were magnificent, players and ponygirls; I would have no idea how to begin choosing one.
'Perhaps this one will suit.' He said gesturing to a girl with the number '6' on her collar.
They would all have suited me, superb athletes, kneeling with their backs straight and their heads up, shoulders pulled back and their little breasts thrust out, their nipple rings glinting in the torchlight; their tattooed bodies exotic, naked save boots and mitted hands held behind their backs now, and the collars locked around their necks, muzzled beasts.
I'd have quite happily bedded one of the big busted Amazons who held their leashes.
Don Carlos held out his hand and the player holding 'Six', handed him the girl's leash.
Don Carlos passed the leash to me and I took it, the kneeling girl dropping forward onto her mitted hands to crawl beside me muzzled, naked; her tail hanging just short of the ground. Like the boots, I saw that the leather mitts were designed to turn her hands into paws, the long fingernails painted black and filed to claws.
It was going to be an interesting night.
'Six' padded beside me as I walked back to my room then knelt back and slid her hands behind her back, once again adopting the straight-backed kneeling position with her legs spread wide and her head up, eyes focussed ahead. She might be obedient but there was an arrogance in her posture..
Closer up, I could see the girl was wearing contact lenses that made her pupils into the vertical slits of a cat's and as I removed her muzzle I saw there were bars piercing the cartilage of her ears elongating them almost to a point at the top. The muzzle was fitted with a huge plug and, as I drew it out of her mouth, I saw that her canines, top and bottom, were filed down to fangs; shining white and polished; she ran her red tongue over them and licked her lips.
I asked her name; feeling more comfortable in Spanish after a week.
'Six.' She said
I thought she hadn't understood and asked again.
'I am six.' She said in English, lifting her head to showing me her dog (cat) tag.
'Ok.' I shrugged and turned to remove my boots.
It was at that moment she sprang, hitting me from behind, knocking me to the floor and pinning me down.
I cried out and tried to shake her off but she held firm and suddenly, I felt an excruciating pain in my shoulder that made me cry out. It took me a moment to realise that she had sunk her teeth into me. I felt her hands coming underneath me, and remembered her 'claws'.
My right arm was pinned but my left was free and I swung my elbow back catching the side of her head and knocking her off; she rolled and came up into a crouch, smiling, blood on her teeth.
I watched her lick them with her pink tongue.
Then she sprang again.
At least I was ready this time but the force of her attack knocked me onto my back and she crouched over me, her weight again pinning me, thighs spread across my own, grinning before lifting her head to roar triumphantly and ripping my shirt open with her claws.
Common sense screamed in my ear that I should throw her off but I was strangely mesmerised by her, by the way she smiled as she looked at my chest. She lowered her head and I tensed at the thought she might bite me again but, instead, she ran her tongue over my chest.
Then, she lifted her head, smiling triumphantly, blood still in her mouth, mine, red against her white teeth; her face flushed, her breathing rapid; as she regarded me with her strange cat-like eyes.
Slowly she leaned forward, lowering her head again her mouth close to mine; I could smell her breath, warm and tinged with the scent of blood.
Then she kissed me, and I tasted blood, metallic even as I felt the warmth of her wash over me. Her tongue thrust into my mouth and her hands come to the side of my face, holding me as she kissed me fiercely, hungrily. Her assault was so intensely erotic that I simply lay back, utterly subdued. When the kiss finished, her mouth moved to my neck and, despite my attempts to the contrary I tensed, aware of her fangs and felt her lips curl into a smile.
Knowing she had me, her kisses became gentle before she drew one of her claws across my chest and I bucked wildly; my eyes widened as she licked her claws. Then she went back to her kisses.
I was rigidly erect long before she got down to my belt where she paused for a moment before using her teeth to undo it, then she opened my trousers and slid her hand inside, cupping my balls and extracting my stiff cock before bending her mouth to it. I wasn't sure I wanted those teeth anywhere near it but, when she just licked it once and then slid off me to pull off my boots, I felt disappointment more than relief.
Then she removed my trousers and stood elegantly; her slim tattooed body towering over me, beautiful and exotic and I think, for a moment, if she told me to roll over and worship her boots with my tongue, I would have done it; but she had other plans.
I watched her hand curl, in a beckoning gesture, like a fighter who has already won urging an opponent to their doom. Watching her carefully, I stood then slid off the tattered remains of my bloody shirt, my hand instinctively feeling for my bleeding shoulder; her eyes watched me with the same intensity.
She stepped to the side, circling me as if she was sizing me up for a fight.
I was up for it.
I crouched, very aware that my cock was standing out like a tentpole and one kick there could spell defeat and, probably, spoil the whole evening.
We sprung together, bodies clashing. I strove for a grip on her naked skin but she had no such compulsion and her claws raked across my back. However, she was not as strong as me and was lighter and, though she squirmed, I managed to turn and throw her over my hip so that she crashed to the floor and I dropped on top of her sitting in her belly, pinning her down with my weight and grappling for her wrists.
She squirmed and bucked but I held her and, finally pinned her wrists above her head.
We stilled for a moment, both breathing hard then I leant down and kissed her full on the mouth, my tongue pushing into her mouth this time, feeling the strange sharpness of her teeth.
She struggled and squirmed underneath me but didn't bite and I used one arm to pin her arms and my other hand to hold her chin.
I moment later she stopped struggling and returned the kiss, her body arching against mine, as she pressed her little breasts against my chest and ground her hips against me.
It was a beautiful moment, like...I had conquered her.
I let her go, my hands moving to the side of her face as she had held me and her arms curled themselves around my body, pulling us together with a forceful determination.
Then her claws raked my back and she threw me off.
We crouched facing each other.
'Perhaps you'd better to tie me to the bed.' She said in a surprisingly English accent.
'I don't think that will be necessary.' I told her trying to hide my surprise.
'Not necessary.' She said with a smile. 'But we both might enjoy it.'
'Let's go a few more rounds.' I said and, again, we sprang at each other.
I don't know if she let me win but I did manage to pin her down and then she guided my cock inside her and we fucked on the floor, my cock driving into her as she raked my back with her claws. She screamed as she came, thrusting her hips against mine with a force that almost knocked me off her body then we lay in a pool of sweat, locked together, clinging to each others bodies surrounded by the tangled remains of discarded clothing and overturned furniture.
'Fuck !' She said after a few minutes. 'I enjoyed that.'
'It wasn't bad.' I said with a smile, my hand moving to play with one of her nipple rings.
'You want to go again ?' She asked.
'Let's give it a minute or two.' I slid off her and, as she began to move, scooped her up and threw her on the bed.
'So you do want to tie me to the bed.' She stretched out her arms and legs. 'It's a while since I was tied down and fucked until I couldn't walk.'
'I think we need to keep those claws under control.'
She smiled and rolled onto her side, sliding her hands behind her back.
I took some rope from the ottoman and bound her wrists.
'You could at least put me in a nice tight hogtie.' She said.
'If you insist.' I bound her ankles and pulled them up to her wrists.
'That's better.' She said, squirming delightedly.
I lay on the bed beside her, unable to resist the pull of her nipple rings.
'I have rings in other places too.' She said pushing her hips forward.
'I'll come to those later.' I said pulling her right nipple ring and kissing her gently. 'But first I want to know how you ended up in Argentina playing ponygirl polo.'
'What is it about men always wanting to talk ?' She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation.
'Humour me.' I tugged her nipple ring.
'Ever hear of Kinky Verity ?' She squirmed forward to press herself against me. 'The Pet'n'Pony Girl.'
Embarrassingly, I vaguely recalled the name.
'Thought you might.' She shifted gently in her bonds and closed her eyes. 'My boyfriend and I used to play some lovely kinky games then, one day, he came home with a camera and we began posting videos of them on-line.'
I thought I remembered a slim girl in a black PVC hood and bodice being taken for walkies on a leash on all fours and prancing pony-like on two hoofed feet. She didn't have the tattoos then, of course.
'That really got me excited.' She said licking her pointed teeth. 'I loved being in bondage, especially leather: single sleeves, harnesses, bridles and the humiliation of being forced to crawl in front of the camera...to eat from a dog bowl in front of all those strangers wanking off on me as I wagged my tail for them...or being put in the treadmill in my pony hooves, forced to walk as he whipped me, drooling round my bit...' Her throat and chest was beginning to flush. 'It got me so wet ! The more we did, the more I got into it until I was spending all my free time at it; turned into a kinky animal locked in bondage. We bought this big steel cage and I loved being kept in it. I was addicted...taking days off work so I could lie there helpless...wet between the legs...wanking myself 'til I couldn't cum anymore.'
She shuddered slightly.
'We got offers online. All kinds of offers of what men, sometimes women too - well, they said they were women - what they'd like to see done to me, sometimes what they'd like to do to me themselves.' She began rubbing her thighs together. 'And I realised I wanted them to do it to me too.'
She opened her eyes and looked at me. 'I wanted to be given to some stranger who'd keep me in a cage like a pet, knowing that anything could happen to me...that I could be raped, beaten, abused, killed even...but the thought of being someones pet...dehumanised...just turned me on so much.'
She was clearly intensely aroused by the memories and I began to tease her nipples again.
'It's going to take more than that.' She said with a smile.
My hand slid lower, between her legs which she parted for me.
'Much better.'
She was soaking wet even allowing for the fact I'd recently cum inside her.
'I began actively looking on-line, looking for the right offer and that's how I found out about PonyGirl polo; about how girls are used, harnessed, whipped... The stables were quite hard to find but then I found the Jaguars. I left Heathrow in the clothes I was standing up in and threw my passport away once I'd cleared security in Buenos Aires.'
CHAPTER 19: THE HUNTING PARTY
I returned Verity or 'Six' to the stables before breakfast after (nervously) allowing her to give me a final blow job.
Waking up next to a kinky cat-girl was great way to start Christmas Day.
For the festive season, it wasn't quite what I was used to with the temperatures in the high thirties.
Goose looked as smugly satisfied as I felt when we met over breakfast. I wasn't sure who she'd spent the night with but she didn't seem to have any bite or clawmarks.
Don Hernan and his family had, apparently gone to mass and, on their return, we were, going out 'hunting' at Las Vigia, 'the lookout'. I'd asked Don Hernan about it but he'd been rather evasive.
'You will find out in good time, Miguel.' He had said.
When the family returned we set out; we, the caballeros (and a few caballeras), rode horses, the proper, four legged kind, something in which I was, unfortunately, included and I looked enviously at the 'baggage train' of two legged ponies; potras lining up beside regular ponies from the Azuls and Jaguars being harnessed to heavily laden gigs as we rode out. There were fourteen riders in our party, including me; Don Hernan, his sister Maria-Argenta and his mistress, Helga; Don Carlos of the Jaguars' stable along with his wife and three of his coaches, then Stablemistress Mendez-Garcia and Valentina and, of course, Goose, Rueben, Charles and Barbie.
From my point of view, it was not the most comfortable couple of hours I'd ever spent as we wound our way up the steep road, towards Las Vigia, particularly when the other riders began to trot. At least, I managed it without falling off but I knew I was going to be aching the next day. On the bright side, it was probably a lot easier than it was for the two-legged ponies, toiling up behind his drawing their gigs laden with food and equipment under the watchful eyes (and whips) of the stablehands.
The view was worth the effort, a chance to look across the vast country towards Buenos Aires and the Atlantic ocean. Standing at the edge of a wide flat rocky outcrop looking down over a very steep cliff on the the Hacienda with its vineyards and lawns and training areas showed just how large it was. If anyone needed a private location to undertake kinky activities then this was it; Don Hernan could probably keep and train his entire stable here and nobody would know anything about it. The site also provided a glimpse into the higher peaks of the Andes, wrapped even in the height of summer in snow and mist.
While we waited for 'the pack animals' we sat and drank and talked though most of the conversation was in Spanish and I only half followed it despite Reuben's help.
Eventually, however, the 'baggage train' arrived, a line of tired, sweating ponies, their muscles straining from the exertion. I saw Bryony drop to her knees exhausted, her chest heaving as she gasped around her bridle; she wasn't the only one.
However exhausting, the climb was only the beginning of the ponies' day and, after being allowed to slake their thirsts, the ponies were soon put to use.
The 'hunt', it turned out consisted of a suitably nimble pony being released with a start of five seconds into on open patch of scrubland and then chased by a rider on horseback. Needless to say the pony was naked other than boots and her arm sleeve.
The first rider to go was Marie-Argenta, spurring her arab mare (four legged !) after a pony from the seconds (two legged), snagging her legs with a bola and catching her by the hair before pulling her across the saddle for a good spanking as she galloped back to the start line. As the crowd applauded, the gorgeous Hispanic nosed her mount through the crowd with her captive still draped enticingly over the saddle before her and vanished into the bushes to claim her prize.
The process was repeated with one of Don Carlos' coaches chasing down a rather chastised looking Carmen who, I noticed wore tan line where once had been her captain's collar. He used a lasso to catch his prey and lead her back with the rope pulled snugly around her throat, smiling as he too lead her back through the lines for a little 'droit-de-senor'.
The whole thing had a deliciously barbaric feel to it and would have been a delight to watch if I hadn't realised it was going to be my turn at some point.
I was just watching Don Carlos' wife bring back a ponyboy when I sensed a presence beside me. Looking round I saw Bryony standing there. She was naked save her pony boots and the pony sleeve binding her arms.
'Master.' She said with a slight smile and dropped to her knees beside me.
The hunting obviously interested and excited her. When a girl is naked and bound and kneeling with her knees spread, it is hard for her to hide her emotions.
I ran my hand through her hair, it was matted and dirty; and she leant against my leg as we watched a Jaguar (two legged !) run, sprinting headlong towards the rough ground to the right, her body stretched forward, bound arms lifted behind her. After five seconds the Caballero (Don Hernan, himself) went after her, spurring his horse to a gallop in pursuit. He caught her with the same skill as his sister, though using a lasso; drawing her over his saddle and slapping her bottom.
'I assume you plan to run.' I said looking down.
She looked up. 'I hope Master does not object.' She said with the hint of a smile. I don't think it will cause too much damage to his property and I think Master would enjoy it.'
We watched the next girl being prepared, another Jaguar.
'You are getting quite a reputation in the stables.' Bryony said suddenly.
'Really ?'
'I heard you gave Rubber Dolly a good thrashing the other night and you have Camilla eating out of your hand...' She looked up. 'Or was it something else she was eating ? You seem a lot more...dominant. Sir !'
'Most of the women around here seem to need a very firm hand.' I told her.
'I think I might need a firm hand too, Master.' She said suddenly. 'I've been a naughty girl.' She looked up, her blue eyes intent doing that submissive lip thing with her teeth. 'A very naughty girl.'
I felt an urge to take her then and there. I doubt anyone would have minded, least of all her.
'Miguel.' Don Hernan called, the Jaguar still draped over his saddle.
I looked away from Bryony.
'Come along, my friend. You must take a turn too.'
This trip was turning into one challenge after another; not that I objected to most of them. More importantly, while I'd not covered myself in glory on every occasion, I think I'd risen to most of them.
Chasing a girl on horseback might prove one experience too many.
'Thank you, Don Hernan.' I forced a smile and came forward to take my horse, watching the Jaguars who, although leashed and muzzled looked more than capable of outdistancing me, horse or not.
Bloody typical, I thought. Couldn't they have given me a docile little stable girl ?
I was just mounting up when a figure streaked past me, red hair flying.
Bryony !
There were shouts from the crowd and a laugh from Don Hernan.
I mounted and kicked my horse to a canter if not a gallop hanging on to the saddle as firmly as I could. I really didn't want to fall off and break my neck. I was glad to see Bryony run to the left staying in open ground, it might give me more chance with my limited equestrian skills. She ran fairly straight too and I thought I might have her easily but, just as I caught up with her, she dodged left, turning and running back past me. I turned my horse but only slowly and by the time I was facing her again, she was running in another direction. I turned again, awkwardly, aware I was showing my lack of equestrian skills. She looked up, laughing and dodging away.
There was only one thing for it. I might not be able to ride a horse well but I was pretty good with the whip.
I pulled the coiled bullwhip from the saddle and, spurring my horse on, shook out the long leather blade hoping the crowd didn't notice as I nearly fell off.
Bryony ran on towards the rougher ground but as I caught her up she stopped and turned meaning to dodge. I don't think she'd expected the whip and I struck catching her around the right thigh and pulling her towards me.
I nearly fell again but stayed in the saddle and I'd managed to unbalance her, pulling her hopping towards me.
Then I had her by the hair and hauled her over in front of me.
I think she probably jumped but then, I did have my fist in her hair.
Slapping her bottom in triumph, I trotted back towards the crowd. It hadn't been anything like a display of good horsemanship but, partly out of relief that it was over, I raised my hand in triumph accepting the laughter and good humoured applause of the crowd.
Don Hernan smiled as I presented my prize to him, drawing his riding crop from his boot and passing it to me. It was a beautiful thing, soft tan leather, hand-stitched no doubt and probably rolled over the thighs of dusky maidens or something like that.
He still had the Jaguar lying remarkable docily across his saddle.
'That one seems a little wayward.' He said with a smile. 'You might need this.'
I took it and brought it down hard on Bryony's bottom.
She yelped and kicked her legs but only because she wanted me to do it again.
Then, at as much of a dignified walk as I could manage, I shouldered my horse through the crowd and went to find somewhere quiet to give my errant slave the seeing to she deserved.
As I reached the back of the crowd, I spotted Valentina. She was coming toward me leading a pony (a two legged one - keep up), the next to be hunted, I assumed. The girl was a blonde and walked with her head bowed, picking her way along on her toes in her thigh high pony boots, leashed with her arms in a single sleeve behind her back; Helga perhaps, I thought at first but then looked again, the girl was slimmer than Helga and her breasts sizable but not nearly as huge as Don Hernan's blonde mistress; her nipples were 'virgin' too as the stablemistress might say; her hair not so highlighted.
Suddenly she looked up.
'Goose !' It just sort of came out louder than expected.
Bryony lifted her head at my sudden outburst.
Goose looked up blushing furiously.
I was about to tease her but the look in her eyes warned me off.
'Not a fucking word, Michael.' She said.
Valentina winked with her good eye and jerked the lead clipped to the Goose's leather collar drawing her on.
Behind the crowd, I found a mounting block and, pulling Bryony from the saddle, bent her over it not even bothering to tighten the strap across her back.
Then, I thrashed her with Don Carlos' whip and, when her bottom was glowing red, I fucked her for all I was worth.
I kept Bryony leashed for the rest of the day and, even if I hadn't done so, I doubt she'd have left my side. We watched the rest of the hunts but I declined to join in the final 'Grand Prix' a free-for-all where caballeros and some of the caballeras chased naked ponies across the hillside before throwing them across the saddle. This was a game of 'finders keepers', the pony remaining the property of the caballero or caballera long into the night.
Sentimental as it my sound, I already had the one I wanted to keep leashed and pressing her lovely tight body against mine at every opportunity. Lovers hold hands and, I suspect, if Bryony's arms had not been tightly sheathed, we might have done this but there is something far more satisfying about a girl deprived of the use of her arms expressing her lust by the constant, insistent touch of her body. Despite her bondage or perhaps because of it, Bryony seemed happy with the outcome although I'm not sure the Goose was. In the melee, I saw Valentina trying to catch her only to be cut off by Don Carlos who caught the Goose's her blonde hair with his fist and pulled her skillfully across his saddle.
After the hunt, the various couples retired to discrete copses and rocks where the victors could enjoy their hard won spoils while the few servants still permitted the use of their hands lit a fire, cooked the barbecue and prepared our Christmas dinner.
We took the opportunity to catch up as we sat round campfire and snuggling together, the stars winking into view overhead. She'd had a pretty wild time too; between nights with PLT, she'd gone down on ponies and players, grooms too.
'You've been a very naughty girl.' I told her.
'Are you going to punish me, Master ?' She looked up wide eyed and, I thought, very adoringly.
We might have both been shagging anything that moved over the lat week but we were both hungry for each other.
I stood, hooking a finger in her nipple ring and lead her into the gathering darkness where I made her kneel; then whipped her breasts, probably much harder than I'd done previously; I'm sure I could see tears glistening in her eyes when I'd finished.
Then I took her again, hurling her to the ground and pinning her down, forcing myself inside her.
She was dripping wet.
She arched, screaming with pleasure as I thrust into her, thrashing wildly, until we both climaxed loudly.
Dimly I heard a ragged cheer.
We really had been very loud.
She looked up at me, her eyes smoldering 'Now see what you've done !'
'You insolent mare.' I cuffed her across the face and pinned her down as she thrashed.
'Bastard.' She tried to bite my arm but I took her hair and half dragging her lead her further away from the camp.
Bryony's tough and fit but she's smaller than me and, further onto the darkness, I forced myself on her again, thrusting into her. Up to that point she'd fought but now she yielded, arching up again to meet me and howling as I entered her.
Then we did it slowly, writhing together before creeping back to the campfire to eat.
We ate barbecued steak; what else would one have for Christmas dinner in Argentina and then there were barrels of wine for the guests if not their ponies; however, after I'd fed Bryony, we sneaked away again, a little more discretely this time.
'Let me please you, Master.' Her voice trembled.
'I kissed her gently.'
'Master ?'
'Shhh !'
'Master...' She persisted dropping to her knees. 'Would you cum on your slave ?'
'On ?'
'Yes, Master.' She bit her lip looking up at me with big blue eyes. 'You know that Mistress Juanita pisses on us to mark us as hers.'
'I'd heard that.'
Surprisingly, the thought rather appealed to me.
'You can piss on me if you like but what I really want is for you to cum all over me.'
'All over you ?'
'In my mouth and on my hair if you can.' She kissed my neck. 'And on my tits if you'd like to.'
'I'm not sure I can manage all that it one go.'
'We have all night, Master.' She pressed her lips to my crotch. 'And Slave is every willing to please.'
CHAPTER 20: TOTAL SUBMISSION
We rose early despite the late night and 'carousing'. For the ponies it was more or less business as usual, rising with the sum but of few of the caballeros looked somewhat the worse for wear. Keen not to be involved in any more genuine equestrian activities, I joined the 'baggage-train' leading my pony back down the hill as the grooms guided the ponies back to the Hacienda. It was quite a site watching the harnessed girl guided along by the grooms; the problem on the descent was slowing the gigs down but many were empty and that gave them the opportunity to have to girls canter or even gallop when the road was not too steep; I thus had the opportunity to watch Bryony in action noticing how her gait was slightly different and, probably more efficient. At this rate we were heading for a third victory in the Mares race assuming we didn't get to side-tracked by polo.
We were back in the Hacienda by lunchtime and I thought the ponies might get the day off but we trained in the afternoon although there were a couple of notable absences; namely Goose and the Stablemistress, Juanita Mendez-Garcia. Where the stablemistress was didn't really bother me but I was a little concerned about Goose.
'She's fine.' Valentina reassured me. 'Don Carlos has kept her for another night.'
I wondered if Goose thought this arrangement to be fine.
The Stablemistress, it seemed was with the lovely Maria-Argenta.
Lucky girl.
'Don Hernan's sister has her tucked in one of the Hacienda's playrooms.' Valentina told me with a sly smile. 'The Stablemistress trained her when she was younger the senorita likes to remind her of their time together...'
'You mean...payback.'
'We are Spanish, Senor.' Valentina said with more than a hint of schadenfreude. 'We practically invented torture.'
We had an early night and, while I was all for finding naked and semi-naked girls waiting in chains in my room but I was happy to give it a miss.
Don Hernan, however, appeared to have other ideas.
As I opened my door, a kneeling figure lifted her head to look at me.
'Bryony !'
'Not too disappointed, I hope, Master.' She said with a smile.
I shrugged, and pulled my shirt off. 'I was thinking of an early night.' I told her.
'And after I've been prepared to Master's specifications.' She said somewhat archly.
'Really ?'
She rose up off her haunches and turned slightly away from me, bending forward and lifting her sheathed arms to show me her bottom.
'Someone's had a good spanking.' I said looking at the bruises I'd given her the night before.
'Yes, someone has. Haven't they, Master.' She said bending further forwards. 'But that's not what you're supposed to be looking at.'
'You slaves are all the same, constantly flashing your arses are men. It's not surprising you get spanked.'
'Take a look at what I've got between my cheeks.' She said sounding rather annoyed.
'Oh, that.'
'Yes, that.' She turned pouting. 'Apparently, Senor Miguel likes his girls flushed with an enema and then filled with anal beads before they are delivered to his room.'
I couldn't help grinning at my submissive little slave girl; she was grubby and her tits were just as bruised as her arse and she still had my cum in her hair.
'I'm sure you'll appreciate it when I remove them.'
'I'm sure I will, Master. But Mistress Sofia pushed them in without any lubrication and she had very cold hands.'
I found the second half of the sentence hard to believe.
'If you're a good girl, I'll take them out later.'
She flashed an eager smile. 'And what would Master like his good girl to do.'
She got me in the mood with a little tongue and lip action; then I took her to bed, teasing her nipples and sliding my hand between her legs.
'To keep your behaviour good, I'm going to have to pierce this.' I said, gently teasing her clit.
She smiled and pressed herself against me. 'I thought Master would never ask.'
'I'm not asking.'
'I love the dominant streak this trip has unmasked.' She kissed my shoulder where Six had bitten it. 'But may slave ask how her master obtained this ?'
'Slave may ask but Master may choose not to tell her.'
'Yes, Master.' She looked down submissively. 'But I should comment that Master has developed quite a reputation in the stables what with the way he's mastered the two recalcitrant ponies, not to mention the way he treated that filthy Rubber Dolly.'
'I could have said the something similar about my slave, going down an anything that moved.'
'Slave has little choice, Master.'
I slapped her bottom.
'Ouch !'
'I think you mean 'Ouch, Master'.'
'Yes, Master.'
I slapped her again.
'Ouch, Master.'
'Better.' My hand slid to the anal bead protruding from her bottom. 'Up on your knees.'
She brought her knees under her body and I slid my hand between her legs and started teaching her clit.
'Master really does have very skilled fingers.'
'Such a well trained little slave.'
'Thank you, Master...Oh!'
I popped the first bead out.
'Master is correct.' She wiggled her bottom. 'It is quite nice. Just like having a tail removed.'
I popped the second bead.
'You know, I really could get into anal if you treated me like this.'
I slapped her bottom and pulled out another bead.
By ten she was panting and clearly close to orgasm.
'There are fifteen more to go.' I warned her. 'And you don't have permission to cum.'
'Yes, Master.' She gasped. 'Slave is...trying.'
'I certainly hope so because if Slave cums without permission this evening, Master will piece her labia too so that her hungry pussy can be locked shut when master doesn't require it.' I didn't add that I would be using the process to keep her well packed with anal beads.
She lasted four more than climaxed unrestrainedly.
'I'm sorry, Master.' She pouted as she got her breath back.
I wasn't sure that she was but she made up for it by sitting astride me and riding me to climax; hers and mine.
The next day was probably Tuesday but I was beginning to lose track of the days.
After returning Bryony to the stable, I went to get breakfast and found Maria-Argenta there already looking like a goddess on earth. I might not have previously distinguished myself in her presence previously but I'd just spent the night with playing kinky sex games with my fiance and just returned her naked to the stables in bondage to be harnessed and bridled, I figured I could handle most women...
She was dressed in a tight white sleeveless blouse giving just the hint of a lacy bra beneath and jodhpurs that looked as if they might have been painted on to her bottom and thighs; then there were the shiny riding boots complete with spurs. However, most striking of all was her tattoo. A black horses head with a blue bridle and plume and a gold ring around it.
'You played for the firsts.' I said indicating her tattoo.
She looked at my like a woman who is used to men awkwardly trying to pick her up but then recognised me and smiled.
'We were a small outfit.' She told me giving me the full benefit of those lovely Hispanic eyes and pout. 'We all had to pitch in. We are family.'
'You didn't get it because of your family connections ?'
Her face hardened instantly and she glared at me; I thought she might just kill me on the spot. I opened my mouth to apologise but she reached out and guided my hand to her butt.
Talk about buns of steel !
Like a jerk, I just stood there. It really wasn't an unpleasant experience. 'You were a pony ?'
I'd assumed she'd been a player.
'Yes !' That should not surprise you !' She hissed. 'Centre attack four years, strike rate in the drop of 72%. And you had better take your hand off my behind !'
She knocked my arm away from her body.
She was 'family' and, though Don Hernan seemed to like me, I suspected he would have me thrown to the sharks or whatever they did for entertainment.
I stood chastened.
'You are the coach.' Her flare of anger faded and those exotic brown eyes roamed over me. 'Are you any good ?'
'I've had some success.' I told her trying to sound casual and forgetting the need to brag in this country. 'I mostly do track and field, track mostly.'
'Ah, so this is the famous English understatement.' She regarded me cooly. 'In Argentina, when we are good we tell everyone.'
'In that case, I'm good.' I said trying to recover. I felt awkward again. 'I'm a good pony coach too.'
'Really ?' She looked skeptical.
'My pony has won the local race two years running.'
'And that is down to your coaching.'
'It's partly down to her but she hadn't won before.'
She regraded me with a little more interest.
'This is the red-headed pony in the stable.' It was a statement, not a question. Like Don Hernan, she knew her stuff.
'Yes.'
She gave me a small but genuine smile. 'You are a lucky man and one who has done well to tame her.'
'I'm not sure I will ever tame her.'
'We are back to English understatement again.'
'No, we are back to independent English women again.'
'Perhaps you will learn something about dealing with women while you are in my country.'
It was a pretty good put down and I didn't have a response.
'So.' She asked, magnanimous, or so I thought, in her victory. 'Have you ever tried it yourself ?'
'Tried what ?'
'Being the pony.'
'No.' I was surprised she should ask.
'Never ?'
'Never !' I tried to make it sound final.
'Oh.' She seemed genuinely disappointed. 'I think it is always good to try new experiences. It will help you with your coaching. Allow you to...lead from a position of experience.'
'Perhaps we could discuss tactics ?' I said warily.
'Quizas.' She shrugged, turning away and, defeated, I went to sit with Goose
I was just finishing my coffee when I felt a tap on the shoulder.
'So, Miguel.' It was Maria-Argenta. 'We go and discuss tactics ?'
She didn't await my reply.
Goose looked at me and I blushed like a schoolboy as I realised I was already on my feet following her out of the door behind her like a trained puppy.
'Tell me about your 'Mares' race.' She said walking briskly towards the stables.
'It's a village tradition.' I told her. 'Every year in the summer. It's over about five miles, mostly road, some steep climbs...'
She called to the grooms for pony carts which were brought quickly.
'Bryony...the red-headed pony asked me to coach her for it two years ago.'
'So you are an experienced pony coach.'
'Yes...I...'
The gigs the grooms brought were like the one I'd first seen Don Hernan drive, the shafts and a crossbar to balance on.
I watched Maria-Argenta jump on and whip her pony into motion without a second thought.
The groom looked at me expectantly, even the pony between the shafts turned her bridled head towards me.
What else could I do ? I climbed on, trying to keep my balance and drove off out of the stableyard hoping I didn't disgrace myself by falling off in front of everyone.
The gig took a little getting used to but was probably a little easier than riding a cantering horse. By the time I'd caught her up, Maria-Argenta was heading up the road into the trees.
Of course, she had no intention of discussing tactics though she commented on my driving as our ponies trotted up the winding track, encouraging me to lean forward a little more and to bend my legs.
After some twenty minutes of what must have been hard climbing for the second team ponies we were driving, we arrived at another building that looked rather like the stables we had just left though the large gates were shut and our way was barred by two figures; a man and a woman in dark suits and sunglasses carrying what I assumed to be automatic rifles.
They parted for Maria-Argenta, and the gates opened as if by magic in front of us.
The Hacienda's stable resembled a typical stable, like the one on Bryony's farm of in Goose's estate; rough stone walls, wooden stable doors, straw and dirt on the cobbles.
This was nothing like it.
Yes, there were stalls and stable doors but it was all glinting steel and glass. The centre of the yard was, however, much the same, and, like the Hacienda had two angled whipping posts and a pair of mounting blocks for punishing errant ponies or drivers.
As we entered, ponies in harness were being strapped to gigs by grooms and players. The grooms wore the same as those in the stables we'd been using; white blouse or shirt, jodhpurs and boots; the players were wearing the same leathers as the seconds I'd seen playing at the weekend, the same as Cream had worn with such pride in back in Mares-de-Launce; the strip of the Cabelleras Azuls. The gigs however, were very different, shining blue, probably carbon fibre, I guessed with titanium shafts or something equally sophisticated.
There were camera and floodlight and satellite dishes too.
We passed an open door and, tearing my eyes away from the nubile ponies being strapped to space age gigs and their equally nubile caballeras strapping them in place, I saw a state of the art gymnasium in which a hooded, naked and tightly restrained girl was running on a treadmill connected to the machine by chains to her nipples; two others, also hooded and otherwise naked, sat astride exercise bikes.
The ponies wore the 'new' style harness with the triangular arm restraint; they also wore what looked suspiciously like Bryony's chastity belt.
A few looked up as we drove in and waved when they recognised Maria-Argenta.
With the hot fit and clearly chaste bodies in the yard and Maria-Argenta's perfect ass in front of me it was difficult to know where to look.
CHAPTER 21: DOMINATION AND HUMILIATION
We left the gigs and Maria-Argenta lead me into a tack room where, in my fantasy she would turn round and kiss me passionately before pulling me down among the leather and letting me have my wicked way with her, perhaps letting me bind her wrists in the process.
Needless to say this didn't happen.
She did turn round and she did tell me to undress.
I hesitated only for a moment but the smouldering look in her eyes reduced me to jelly and, besides, a guy likes to get his pecs out for a pretty girl.
She was clearly impressed.
'And the rest of it.' She knew just how to control a man, at least, she knew how to control this one. A gentle touch of those fingers on my chest, blue manicured nails tracing my muscles; the way she she parted her lips; a flash of white teeth and soft pink tongue; the promise of something more.
Then there was her smile as she saw the way my cock was swelling.
'I'm flattered, Miguel.' He fingers lightly brushed it and I stood instantly to attention.
Disappointingly she turned away, bending again to show me her perfect ass in the ultra-tight jodhpurs; they were tight enough for me to see the bulge of her sex. When she stood she was holding a harness and, sadly, I was putty in her hands.
I'd thought about it a few times, particularly when Bryony first introduced me to her version of pony play, but I'd never actually done it. At the start, we'd been too focussed on the training and then when Bryony revealed her submissive needs, I could hardly be Master and let her, or anyone else for that matter, put me between the shafts; it just wouldn't be very masterful.
Looking back, I like to think it was a desire to experiment and perhaps enjoy the bondage but, if I'm honest, it was because Maria-Argenta wanted me to do it. So I stood meekly and let her place the straps over my shoulders and tighten the chest straps then pull my arms up behind my back and encase them in the polo sheath. There was no going back at this point and quite frankly, I didn't want to; so I just blushed furiously as she stood back and looked at me in much the same way as I looked at ponygirls with a coy smile on her beautiful face.
'We are going to have to do something about that.' She looked at my rigid cock which was drooling freely from what she had just done to me.
I'd seen the crotch straps of the ponyboy harnesses and she fitted one to mine, buckling it to the ring on my chest and then guiding my cock and balls through the steel ring designed to accommodate them. The ponyboys I'd seen had then had their cocks sheathed but Maria-Argenta had other plans for me, showing me a leather harness fitting that had multiple straps before securing my cock inside it and tightening several straps around my balls.
It was a wonder I didn't cum but, once it the straps, that wasn't going to happen.
'Don't worry.' She said wiping the drool from my cock off her hands. 'All the firsts are in chastity for the season.'
'One of them isn't.' I looked at her.
I like to think she took it as a compliment; there was a flicker of a smile before her expression darkened.
'A pony should be careful in harness.' She said stepping towards me in a manner I can only describe as 'menacing'. 'They're so...vulnerable.' She cupped my spatchcocked balls in her hand and squeezed gently looking up at me sternly as she did so.
She'd made her point.
'Yes, Mistress.' I blushed as I said it.
'Good boy.'
Like I say, I've always been into bondage. I always thought I'd be a master like every guy does but I'd also tied myself up a few times and this was, to some degree, the realisation of a fantasy. I kept that in mind as she hooded me and then pulled the bridle over my head, securing the bit between my teeth. Even with the tight cock restraints, it was a wonder I didn't cum my load.
Then she sat me down and fitted my with pony boots.
I was glad there was nobody around that I knew to see how much I was enjoying this and, once hooded I had a little more confidence even as I stood wobbling slightly and getting used to the pony boots.
'Just wait a moment while I change.'
There are, of course, times when a guy would really rather not be hooded.
I waited. There wasn't really anything else I could do.
Then she clipped reins to the ends of my bit and lead me out into the yard.
I stood in the hot, dry yard as unseen hands harnessed me to a gig experiencing the disorientating sensations of being touched and moved, of straps being tightened. Deprived of my vision I strained to listen through the hood but could only hear muffled chatter in Spanish and the occasional shout.
The sun felt hot on my body, the air dry and dusty as I breathed it in around my bit. I could smell the leather of the hood and taste it where it was wrapped around my bit. I knew I was starting to sweat and that I was drooling (yes, two sites). My shoulders and elbows were already aching from the triangular sheath that constrained my arms and the boots felt awkward on my feet.
I knew why ponies always seemed restless, why they tossed their heads and shifted their weight and that I was eager to begin. Then I felt pressure on my shoulders and heard the creak of the harness as someone climbed into the gig. Bizarrely, I really hoped it was Maria-Argenta. Then, there was a sharp pain in my butt and a shake of the reins and I was a real ponyboy.
The gig wasn't heavy, Maria-Argenta or whoever was driving me was small and pert and the harnesses were designed to give maximum advantage to the pony.
The whip came again.
'Get those knees up you lazy pony !' It was definitely Maria-Argenta.
I did my best at a rising trot but the whip came again...and again...
Within a few minutes my bottom was burning but my thighs were burning more. The rising trot was a tiring way of running and I realised how fit Bryony and the other ponies I drove were.
Fortunately, after a minute or two, I was reined back to a lazy trot though I was panting for breath and would have been happy to stop. However, a lot of athletics training is interval work and active recovery and this was something I was used to. Jogging along pulling a weighted truck or a training partner using a band is a common technique too and I was surprised how familiar it felt.
Around me I could hear the shouts of the other drivers calling to each other and to my own driver. A number of the comments were about me.
'Hey, Maria will you share your stallion with us ?'
'He's just a pony...'
'I looks bigger than that.'
The whip stung me again and Maria-Argenta called to me to pick up the pace.
I knew we'd left the yard, and, at first, I jogged on in more or less a straight line but then I felt the whip on my left side and a pull on the reins to the right, almost instinctively I turned and then felt a pull the other way accompanied by a lick of the whip to the other side. Again I obeyed.
She made me slalom for what must have been a few hundred yards and then we turned sharply up a steep slope that almost brought me to a halt.
Maria-Argenta shook the reins and began to lash my buttocks repeatedly as I dug in and dragged the cart up the short rise; by the time we were at the top I was panting hard, aware of my chest heaving against the harness straps. My buttocks and the back of my thighs were throbbing with pain. However, I was given no respite, the whip falling again as Maria-Argenta urged me to a canter.
Around me there are more shouts, similar in nature as my fellow ponies were whipped along.
As the morning wore on, I barely noticed the pain of the whip, experiencing it merely as a signal like a pull on the reins. I barely thought about anything other than putting one foot in front of the other, dragging the gig and its driver behind me, walking when I got the chance and running when driven to it. We must have done several laps of the training field or wherever we were then we did sprints and then practice turns; surprisingly the latter were almost the hardest and Maria-Argenta exhorted me to turn more and more sharply lashing me with the whip and by jerking so sharply on my bridle that I feared she might pull me over.
I was very glad she wasn't using nipple reins on me and soon resolved to be a little easier on Bryony when I ran her blind.
We stopped after what must have been an hour and a half or perhaps two. As I stood panting hard someone removed my bit and pushed a bottle of water into my mouth. It was warm but I drank thirstily until it was removed.
'Good boy !' The bottle was pulled out and a hand patted my bottom.
I was given a few moment respite and then the whip fell again; it was only a light tap but after my rest it seemed suddenly much sharper. I responded immediately trotting forward and then felt myself guided in a circle.
I heard a whistle blow and the world around me suddenly went silent. I pictured ponies standing, poised ready, a ball arcing in the air, rising falling, dropping to the ground...
The whip startled me into motion and came again a moment later.
I knew what was happening and powered forward; despite my efforts the whip kept coming but once again, the blows just became a blur, a muffled sensation like the sounds around me.
Something hit me, square on, no, a glancing blow across the chest, whatever hit me moving to my right even as I was drawn hard to the left by my bridle and driven that way by the whip.
I wondered if we'd won the ball...
I guessed not.
I was made to jog back.
The whistle came again...silence...the vision of the ball... the whip.
I ran forward again...crashed into another body.
Trotted back to the start.
We practiced the opening charge over and over again until I thought I was bruised from head to foot. I've no idea how many I won or if I won any at all.
The we must have moved on to some sort of passing practice; I could hear calls for the ball, feel changes in the pull on my reins when Maria-Argenta presumably had the ball and held the reins in her teeth. Those moments were a brief respite from the whip but, as I've said, after a few blows, I almost blocked out the pain of each stroke; it was just a reminder to run or turn.
Finally, we stopped for what must have been lunchtime and I was freed from the shafts of the gig, though not from my harness, bridle or hood. Maria-Argenta patted my bottom and told me I was a good boy.
'You show promise.' She said. 'If we ever start a ponyboy league, you'll be one of my star ponies.'
I nodded. There was little else I could do.
'Kneel down.' She tapped the backs of my legs and I dropped to my knees feeling the softness of what I suspected was grass.
She removed my bridle and put the water bottle in my mouth.
'Don't drink too much.'
'Yes, Mistress.' I mumbled round the bottle.
'Your food bowl is in front of you.'
She was giving me the full pony experience. I guessed there were other ponies, harnessed and hooded around me kneeling in front of food bowls.
I realised how hungry I was.
I bent forward, on my knees. With my face covered, the only way I could find the food bowl was by pushing out my tongue and I remembered watching Bryony doing this. While I didn't particularly enjoy watching her eat like this all the time, I did enjoy the way she was forced to seek the bowl blindly and the way she tried to eat daintily even though she would always end up with food all over her face. If I'm honest, I also rather enjoyed wiping her face afterwards.
After a few mis-starts I found the food, a bowl of some sort of protein substitute, probably Quorn, in a tomato sauce which surprisingly wasn't that bad.
I ate hungrily and licked the bowl clean.
Then I knelt waiting to see what happened next and thinking about my morning.
My shoulders ached and my chest felt bruised; my buttocks were warm from constant abuse.
Then, suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
Reflexively, I turned my head though, of course, I could see nothing.
I heard a girl laugh and then felt something brush my chest.
There was another laugh.
'Hello, handsome.' A voice said.
I turned my head towards it and heard laughter.
I dropped my head again.
'He's very submissive.'
'Do you think he understands us ?' A voice asked in Spanish.
'Are you enjoying yourself, PonyBoy ?' The voice spoke English and had an American accent.
'Your mithtress athked you a quethtion.' Another voice said in accented English.
A hand took hold of my bridle. 'Better answer if you don't want a whipping.' The American voice again.
'Yes, Mistress.' I said.
'So obedient.'
I felt hands on my body, caressing my chest.
There was more giggling then one of them grabbed my balls and squeezed gently.
'Such a waste.' One of the voices said in Spanish again.
'You are lucky we are all in chathtity, Senor.' The accented voice again. 'Or we will be riding you all over again.
Something pressed against my face and I smelt leather.
'And again...'
Whatever it was pushed against my face harder.
'Cabelleras !' It was Marie-Argenta. 'Unless you all want a pussy whipping you'd better leave my my ponyboy alone.'
'Sorry, Mistress.' They chorused. 'We were only having fun.'
My balls were released.
I couldn't help letting out a moan of disappointment.
'Open your mouth.' Marie-Argenta said. Then she slipped my bit back between my teeth. 'I suggest you lie down with the other ponies and get some rest. We have a lot more practice to do today.'
I rolled over onto my side and a few moments later fell asleep.
CHAPTER 22: TEMPTATION AND TORMENT
The afternoon continued in much the same vein with more drills. I thought I was about to drop but then, finally, we played some sort of game.
Initially, I assumed it was just another drill and when the whip struck I sprinted forwards.
The clash this time was full on, not a glancing blow and I felt myself lifted off my feet as by the force of it; my legs flailed in the air before I landed heavily only to feel the whip and a jerk on the reins. I turned and felt the whip again, driving me to the canter, we swerved left and the pressure on my bit changed. The whip came again.
I sprinted forwards realising that, somehow, we had won the ball.
I sensed almost before I felt something to my right; something touched my shoulder, slick flesh, a leather sheath, something knocked against the shaft of the gig. The whip fell again and I drove myself forward.
Then I was pulled sharply to the right. I collided with another body, staggered, felt a tug on my reins which helped me regain my balance and was then made to wheel sharply to the left.
There was a ragged cheer.
'Good boy !' I heard Maria-Argenta shout; her voice charged with excitement.
I don't think we won the ball again but once was enough to make me feel very proud.
I'd played centre attack with the firsts and had a strike rate of twenty percent.
Perhaps they'd let me have a tattoo.
I was genuinely disappointed when the game seemed to be over and I was driven back to the stable. I almost missed the weight of Maria-Argenta in the gig as she climbed down.
'You are a good pony.' Maria-Argenta said with genuine enthusiasm.
I nodded. 'Esh, Mishdrsh !' I said around my bridle.
She patted my bottom.
Then I was detached from the gig and lead forward out from the shafts. Unseen hands undid the buckles of my bridle and then it was removed. Then the hood came off in what felt like a rush of cold air despite the warmth of the sun on my body. The light was blinding and I screwed my eyes up, unable to open them, unable to even relax them after the total darkness of the hood. As my arm sheath was removed, the pain and relief in my shoulders came in roughly equal measures. Even though they were free, I couldn't move them and Marie-Argenta rubbed them gently.
Cautiously I opened my eyes again, still squinting, able to see figures around me, my fellow ponies undergoing a similar process at the hands of their players.
'Can you manage your boots ?' Maria-Argenta guided me backwards and I sat on the step of the tack room fumbling with the buckles of the thigh high boots feeling useless.
She squatted in front of me and I looked down to see the top of her head, her dark hair made less glossy than it had been in the morning by a layer of dust; it it pulled back into a neat ponytail. She looked up and smiled; beautiful, radiant; her face was dusty but her large dark eyes still shone.
She was wearing the leathers of the Caballeras Azul; the little bolero jacket tight across her small neat breasts, pushing them together and up towards me. I tried not to look but I couldn't take my eyes of them...her; despite the fact I was surrounded by naked ponies and their seminaked players there was only one woman who captured my attention.
I felt her undoing my boots and then pull them off my feet.
She stood and I got a full view of her lovely toned body, in the brief bolero jacket and the shiny blue leather shorts that were as tight as her jodhpurs; her firm thighs and the leather thigh boots.
The sun shone through and around her hair like a halo.
She was a still a goddess, albeit a dusty one.
A goddess who had utterly dominated me.
Her skin and her leathers were covered in fine dust. If she'd asked me I'd have licked every inch of her clean with my tongue.
'Come on.' She turned, clearly knowing what I was looking at; how I was looking at her.
I wanted to crawl to heel but she hooked a finger in my harness and pulled me to my feet.
'I expect you to undo this part.' She patted my crotch and my captive cock twitched. Then she stepped behind me and began to undo the harness. My fingers were just about recovered enough to remove the cock strap.
A few moments later I was free.
And naked.
And surrounded by naked girls; well, mostly naked; certain strategic parts were covered.
I was disappointed to find Maria-Argenta apparently staying clothed.
'A Caballero would turn his back when a lady undresses.' She told me.
Reluctantly, I obeyed, forced to look at all the other lovely naked women around me, whipped sweating ponies and toned pert caballeras.
A man's life can be hard.
Actually, they weren't naked; to a woman they were all wearing lightweight but very effective looking chastity belts that shone slightly golden in the evening sun. I watched them bend and stretch, easing cramped muscles players massaging the calves of their tired mounts.
To be kept here among all this pouting beauty and never be permitted to touch any of it might be a torment worse than any physical pain.
Then, suddenly, I felt Maria-Argenta's arms around my waist, her body pressed against mime; her naked body by the feel of it and, I was pretty sure, no chastity belt.
Her hands closed around my cock and her fingers held my balls. I closed my eyes to relish the moment then 'snap' something closed tightly around my scrotum just above my balls.
Maria-Argenta released me and I looked down. There was a metal band locked around my scrotum just beneath the base of my cock; a leather strap hung from it.
At that moment Maria-Argenta strode past me. 'Come along, PonyBoy.' She said.
She was completely naked.
No chastity belt.
And she held the other end of the leash locked around my balls.
She jerked the leash once and I followed her like puppy dog though this time I had to hold my cock to stop it from swinging.
She lead me to the shower block, turning at the door to give a full view of her little pert breasts and dark brown nipples. They had tiny metal keepers in them rather than rings. She had a pierced navel too.
'Just in case you get any ideas.' She said picking up a pair of handcuffs. I held out my wrists and let her cuff me then she pulled me inside.
Though steel and glass on the outside, the showerblock was quaintly old fashioned on the inside, smelling of soap and wet wood. There were duckboards on the concrete floor and steel pipes above my head and to the sides, I could see steam rooms and saunas and, through a steamy glass window I could see a naked girl lying on a couch being given a massage.
The room was already full of steam and I glimpsed a few girls in there already washing each other down.
Maria-Argenta lifted my hands and clipped the handcuffs to a ring attached to a steel joist. Then she bent in front of me, quite deliberately I thought, to pick up a bottle to shampoo or perhaps to show me that her sex was just as perfect as every other part of her body; it was also pierced. Then, she turned and smiled and began to wash herself.
All I could do was stand to attention, watching as the goddess in human form soaped her hair and body and washed herself down. I'm sure she did it with a deliberate thoroughness in much the same way as she kept bending over to gather a little more shampoo.
As she did this, other girls wandered past but I barely noticed.
I just hoped she'd wash me down too.
'Would you like us to wash the stallion, Mistress.'
My private dance was interrupted by the girls who had teased me at lunchtime. At least I assumed it was them. The girl who spoke had the American accent; she was a blonde, freckled, slightly taller than the others who were typically Hispanic. All three had gorgeous bodies naked, glowing and dripping with water.
'Alright, Maisy.' Marie-Argenta said, washing her nipples for a the fourth time. 'But be careful with that thing.' She pointed to my cock. 'If you make him cum I'll make you lick him clean and then pussy whip the three of you.'
'Oh, Mithtress.' The girl with the Castilian accent reassured her then translated for their companion who giggled loudly.
'It's not as if we can really get up to anything.' The third girl said in Spanish pulling at her chastity belt. 'Or does Mistress want to save him for later ?'
'I have another appointment later.' Maria-Argenta said coyly and the three girls laughed. 'But now I'm going to check on Bella.' She ran her fingers through her wet hair.
'I think Bella will be very pleathed to thee you, Mithtress.'
Maria-Argenta turned and winked at me and then left me alone with my three fates.
If watching Mistress Maria-Argenta wash herself had filled my with unrequited lust, having three nubile pony girls washing me took frustration to a level that was near torture. The three of them teased me intimately, mercilessly; caressing my body, their tongues lapping, lips kissing, fingers stroking, probing; bodies pressing against me leaving me lost in a fog of arousal and denial that both surrounded and engulfed me; my only consolation was that they were in a similar position.
And they were likely to be in chastity for a lot longer than they were tormenting me.
At one stage, I thought I might cum as my cock strained and drooled but the three girls knew exactly what they were doing even down to blonde Maisy and one of her fellows pressing their bodies together in front of me in an intimate embrace, tongues in each others' mouths, chastity belts grinding together as the water ran over their naked skin.
'You like to thee pony girlth play together, Thenor ?' The girl with the Castilian accent whispered to me as I watched them, her body pressed against my back, her fingers teasing my nipples as her companions snogged for my benefit and, probably, theirs too.
'Yes, Mistress.' I gasped and the three laughed.
Maisy and her companion turned towards me, the blonde contemptuously flicking my cock.
'I think we may have broken Mistress Maria's new pony boy.' She said teasingly. 'I thought he'd be more dominant.' She slid her hand around my balls and squeezed. 'But he's just a sissy slave'
I moaned in frustration.
'Come on.' Maisy said. 'We'd better get him back to his mistress.'
The girl behind me freed my hands form the bar above my head but immediately cuffed them behind my back and Maisy took up my cock leash. The three of them then lead me out of the shower block into the stableyard where a few ponies and players lingered; the ponies now restrained once again in their triangular sleeves although this distinction seemed to make little difference to the way they interacted; to one side, two ponies leaned side by side against a hitching bar, their arms sheathed behind them and balanced on pony boots; they were chatting and laughing and leaning in to touch shoulders in the same way that a girl who wasn't restrained might reach out to touch a girlfriend' arm or shoulder; both were, of course, fully chaste.
One pair, however, were not taking part in the ponies' relaxation time; in the centre of the yard, a girl hung by her ankles between the whipping posts, her wrists cuffed behind her back, her companion knelt bent over one of the mounting blocks.
The three girls lead me across the stableyard to a building on the far side and one of them keyed in a code on a panel by the door which then hissed open admitting us into an airconditioned room. It was cool after the warmth of the stableyard and smelt vaguely of antiseptic; some sort of medical room perhaps. It would have been very pleasant if the water from the shower wasn't still drying on my skin and the notion that something unpleasant might be about to happen.
'Thank you, girls.' Maria-Argenta entered, dressed again in the uniform of the stablehands although, once again her brown nipples were obvious beneath the sheer white blouse. 'I hope you didn't go to far.'
'Of course not, Mistress.' The girls giggled and left me naked and cuffed, the leash hanging from my throbbing cock.
'I thought you might like to see why I've used you as a pony ?' Maria-Argenta said taking my leash and leading me through another door.
The room we entered was similar to the first one, white walls and a smell of antiseptic. There was, however, one important difference. In the centre of this room was a girl, standing, no, hanging I realised; she wore something that looked rather like a polo harness and her arms were sheathed behind her in the typical triangular arrangement; the harness was, however, more heavy duty; thick straps across her shoulders and a girdle like those field mares wore in Mares-de-Launce; the harness had thigh cuffs too and these appeared to help support the girl's weight. Her legs were spread, chains from her ankles keeping them apart and straight; but there was something else around each of her shins; it took me a moment to realise they were external fixators; I'd seen them on athletes with injuries before, screws drilled into bone to hold broken limbs in place, far more exacting than a plaster cast and necessary to maintain elite performance. A scar on the girls right lower leg beneath the fixator suggested a nasty break; the scar on the left was far neater, surgical probably. It was then that I realised that her ankles were not chained with cuffs but by pins through her heels. However, this wasn't the only disturbing feature of her bondage; up and down her legs dozens of needles pierced the skin, each connected to wires that ran to some sort of control box.
'This is Bella.' Maria-Argenta said. 'My usual pony.'
Bella opened her eyes; they were quite beautiful, cat-like in shape and turquoise like a tropical sea. I guessed she was quite pretty with the ringlets of chestnut brown hair framing her face but her nose and mouth was hidden by a huge black leather muzzle from which emerged a thin plastic tube.
'Bella met with an unfortunate accident a few weeks ago.'
The pony's eyes flicked toward her mistress.
'A tragic but well recognised occupational hazard, especially for a centre attack pony.' Maria-Argenta stroked one of Bella's breasts then played with the piercing rings. The girl's breasts were quite large for a pony, especially the kind I had seen here.
'What you are seeing is state of the art.' Maria-Argenta said with a degree of pride. 'Bella is trialling a prototype device form the Titan-Longue corporation in which my family has a controlling interest. The needles provide electric stimulation to the muscles while the patient is immobile.'
I was familiar with the concept but the extreme nature of this was surprising.
'The scientists claim she may actually be fitter at the end of her treatment than before.'
'Really ?' Professional curiosity had got the better of me and I stepped closer; perhaps ponies did forget their inability to use their hands.
'I took the opportunity to do a little experiment of my own.' Maria continued. 'While the surgeons fixed her right leg, had her left leg broken and fixated too. When healed, both legs will be about an inch and a half longer than before giving lovely Bella here more stride length.'
I found the thought unsettling; there is a lot of contention in the world of athletics about what is legal and what is cheating and what is immoral.
'You really think it will make her faster ?'
Maria-Argenta shrugged. 'Probably.'
'Isn't that cheating.'
'Oh, PonyGirl polo has no rules in that area but I won't be using her for matches.'
I was puzzled.
'She's far too valuable to me to risk again.' Maria stroked the side of Bella's face and the girl looked at her mistress' hand. 'I'm going to use her as a mascot, to lead my team onto the field.' She turned and looked at me. 'You must have noticed her breasts.' Maria-Argenta lifted the girl's right breast. There was a scar beneath. 'Way too big for a ponygirl. I'm having them enlarged but it will take several weeks to complete the process. They'll be as big as your Barbie Doll's soon.' She tweaked the nipple, smiling. 'Bigger ! Bella here is going to by my own living doll... Constructed to my own specifications.'
What she was doing to the girl should have felt barbaric but it was impossible to hide the reaction of my own body to it. I was at once horrified and fascinated and very relieved that Maria-Argenta's attention was directed elsewhere.
'Of course, I've had a few other things done too.' She slid her fingers under the bottom of the girl's collar exposing a fresh scar. 'You'll be familiar with this; I know you've already met my brother's dancing girls. And then, there are the fine platinum electrodes implanted in her erogenous zones...' Her fingers returned to Bella's breasts. 'By the time I'm finished I will be able to turn her off and back on again at the flick of a switch.'
She turned to face me.
'Which means I'm looking for a new competition pony.' Maria-Argenta stepped towards me, raising her hand to stroke the side of my face just like she'd done with Bella. 'Such a shame they don't allow pony boys on the field.'
I took a step back.
'Though, I'm sure, we could soon change that.' She jerked on my leash. 'It's amazing what can be done with surgery.' She pressed her body against me, her hand sliding up behind my head as she pulled me as if into a kiss, her lips inches from mine. 'As I said, the rules in pony polo are rather vague when it comes to gender identity.'
My throat went dry and I could feel myself sweating.
'Pity you're not good enough.' Her smile vanished and she brought her knee up into my groin.
'Ugghhh !' I gasped, my knees buckling though I managed to stay on my feet. 'Come along Slave. I have a pussy to whip.' She said jerking my cock leash and dragging me from the room.
CHAPTER 23: PUSSYWHIPPED
I left Bella behind with a strange mix of relief and disappointment somewhat overwrought by what I had endured through the day and learnt of Maria-Argenta; the juxtaposition of such intense beauty and her complete control over everything that entered her sphere of influence. I was still, however, under her spell or, perhaps confused; I certainly dropped to my knees in the dirt of the yard beside the whipping posts when Maria-Argenta commanded.
A groom handed her a whip. This was La Vibora, the viper, I had used on my two errant ponies and I watched the way Maria-Argenta let the coils fall to the floor then run it across her hand almost sensually, as she enjoyed the feel of the leather. Then she looked at the helpless player hanging by her ankles, arms spread, tied to the base of the posts; naked, devoid even of her chastity belt; the rose of her pussy gaping, petals glistening in the evening sun.
The girl's face was pale and her eyes wide with fear. She was clearly of oriental origin; amber, almond shaped eyes and a flat face with prominent if rather steep angles to her cheeks.
The whip struck and the girl hissed with pain. A red welt appeared on the inside of her right knee.
The second stroke produced a matching mark on the inside of the girl's left knee.
And so, Maria-Argenta administered the girl's punishment meticulously and perfectly, working down the inside of the girl's thighs towards the gaping pussy. There was no doubt she was making an example of the girl, whipping her thighs to build tension towards the agony that would follow and I could see the effect was not lost on the watching ponies and players many of whom subconsciously seemed to be holding their hands over their sexes despite the protection of the chastity belts they wore or pressing their legs together in anticipation of the pussywhipping that was to follow. I saw one player literally press her hand protectively over the sex of her pony who smiled slightly and pressed her body against the player's.
We all shared the shame and humiliation of the helpless girl our eyes fixed on the growing number of stripes that bloomed on her the soft flesh of her thighs, progressing inexorably towards her pussy though none of us could share her pain. As I watched mesmerised and genuinely horrified at the stiff erection that had sprouted as a result of the whipping, I thought I could see a line of healed scars from a previous punishment but it might have been a trick of the evening light.
Then the whip reached her pussy.
Until this moment, the girl's cries had been muted and she had hung relatively still though tears streamed from her eyes. However, as the whip lashed the red flower of her pussy she screamed and bucked wildly thrashing in her bonds and sobbing openly, begging her mistress for mercy. The tightness of her bondage meant she could to little to evade the whip and it struck again producing the same response.
'Please, Mistress. No more...'
'Gag her.' Maria-Argenta's voice was dark and fierce and, I thought from the flush in her cheeks, she was very much enjoying the pain she was inflicting.
A groom rushed forward and forced a large ball gag into the girl's mouth making her protests unintelligible though not silencing them completely; the girl continued to whimper.
'Kisoumo !' Maria-Argenta ran the whip across her fingers then held them to her nose. 'You deserve this every day for a week for losing the ball to...that....' Maria-Argenta gestured towards me and I felt my face burn. 'You will spend the rest of the season as a pony in the seconds. Perhaps there you will learn better self discipline.'
Kisoumo sobbed and Maria-Argenta began to lash her pussy again.
The whipping seemed to go on and on and I could see tears in the eyes of some of the ponies and players as they watched the hapless Kisoumo beaten until she could cry no more.
'Please.' I said it when I could bear it no longer. 'Enough.'
Maria-Argenta looked at me with barely concealed anger.
'Masie.' She called with cold disdain. 'Get rid of that.'
She gestured to me with the whip.
I swear the pretty blonde blanched as she walked passed her mistress and bent to pick up my cock leash. I stood and followed her in silence as she lead me to the gate and pulled it open.
Then she shoved me out though i thought there might be the faint hint of acknowledgement on her face.
The large gate banged shut behind me, locking shut with a final click. I stood naked and cuffed with the leash dangling from the cock and balls wondering how I was going to explain this when I got back to The Hacienda. In frustration more than hope I shoved my shoulder against the heavy metal gate; then, suddenly realised I wasn't alone.
The guard stood behind me, the female one, sunglasses, earpiece, tight fitting dark suit and, of course the assault rifle in her hands.
'Can I help you, Senor ?' She asked in a somewhat amused tone.
I considered my options, even for a moment, the possibility of trying to charm my way out of the situation but I had already endured enough humiliation for one day.
'No, thank you, Senorita.' I said tersely. 'I'm just on my way back to The Hacienda.'
'Very good, Senor.' She looked me up and down and then gestured. 'Follow the path to the right through the trees.'
'Thank you, Senorita.' I turned and walked off with the leash swinging from my cock and with as much dignity as I could muster.
I was probably about half way back when I heard a sound behind me and turned to see the guard driving a pony gig with Kisoumo trailing behind leashed by a rope around her neck; the girl was running barefoot with her arms strapped to some sort of metal yoke across her shoulders; it was clearly heavy and the little oriental was almost staggering under its weight. A phallic gag, a huge rubber dildo bouncend in front of her face as she ran and a tail swung behind her; nipple bells completed her humiliation. Her eyes were red and streamed with tears. It was a wonder the little oriental could stand, let alone run, the welts between her thighs shone a livid red.
'Senor.' The guard called as she drew her pony to a beside me much to the relief of the abused Kisoumo. 'I have brought these.'
She held out my clothes.
'And this.' She pulled the pony to a halt and produced a key.
I smiled with relief and turned round so she could release my wrists.
'Thank you, Senorita.' I rubbed my wrists.
'That.' She pointed to the leash. 'You will have to remove yourself.'
I undid it and hurriedly began to pull on some clothes. After a few moments, I realised that the guard was still watching me.
I smiled nervously and the guard pulled off her sunglasses to reveal lovely dark Spanish eyes.
'Senorita.' I said in my best Spanish. 'I think I was a little rude to you earlier. Please accept my apologies.'
She smiled and nodded. She was quite pretty and I was incredibly horny.
'You have done me a great favour.' I smiled back. 'Perhaps I could do something for you in return.'
I reached out and took her hand, saw her smile.
Then she tipped her head back and roared with laughter.
'Oh no, Senor.' She said clearly fighting for control of herself. 'I need a real man.'
She laughed again the gig shaking through a combination of her laughter and that of her pony.
Kisoumo simply stood with her head down looking miserable.
Then the guard wiped her eyes and took up her whip urging her pony into motion; member the firsts the girl between the shafts may have been but she was clearly laughing so much it took her a moment to gain control of herself then I watched her prance away, her shoulders still shuddering with laughter.
It was almost dark when I reached the stables and I had an urge to see Bryony but, when I got to her stall, she wasn't there. PLT wasn't there either.
'The redheaded pony is...in the care of Don Hernan.' Juan told me. 'He requested her especially.'
'Oh.' After the day I'd had, an evening with my familiar pony would have been welcome.
I looked at the punishment square in the centre of the stableyard. Rubber Dolly seemed to have managed a whole day without upsetting StableMistress Juanita. I wondered if perhaps I could seek her out instead.
'You have eaten, Senor ?'
I suddenly realised how hungry I was.
Juan took me to his office produced a meal of bread, chorizo, olives and tomotoes and we shared this along with a glass of the Hacienda's new vintage.
'I am thinking that Camilla would make a fine bedfellow tonight, Senor.' He said wiping his mouth.
'Camilla thought you had abandoned her, Senor.' The lovely little pony was kneeling in her stall in full harness though unbridled; chained to the ring in the centre by her nipple piercings.
'I thought you didn't think me much of a player.' I let myself in.
'Oh.' She made a small soft noise in the back of her throat. 'Camilla may have been...hasty in her judgement.'
She really was delicious, kneeling so submissively, helpless, her body in shadow and her glossy black hair shining in the low light of the lantern. I walked around her, enjoying her helplessness.
'While it is true that Senor has more to learn about polo.' She said carefully. 'It is clear to me that Senor knows how to...handle a woman.'
Based on my performance today I wasn't sure that was true I had a sudden urge to drive a pony girl.
'I should practice.' I gathered her hair, pulling it back, it was thick and strong; I slipped a thong round it to hold it in place.
'It is dark, Senor.'
'I can't see that it matters to a hooded pony.' I took down the hood, pulling it over her face, smoothing it and lacing it up behind.
She was beautifully helpless now, and would be more so.
I unclipped the chain holding her in place and tugged gently noticing she winced slightly.
'You are injured ?'
'No, Senor.' She said, her voice trembling, husky. 'My nipples were conditioned last night. They are sore.'
I remembered the techniques used in different stables.
'How is that done here ?'
'They are rubbed with rough board like that used for sanding wood and then brushed with chilli powder.
I tried not to wince.
'You will find me very responsive this evening, Senor.' She paused and I saw her lips curve into a smile. 'Very attentive too.'
I lead her out into the yard.
'Why did you become a pony ?'
'I am a better pony than a player.'
'I meant why did you join the stables.'
She turned as if to look at me even though she was hooded and I wondered if this was a universal ability of all women no matter what their background.
'It...appealed to me.'
She paused, thinking and I took the opportunity to attach her to the shafts of a gig.
'I was the third daughter of a Don.' She continued. 'My elder brother and sister were very bright but I struggled in school, I could not pass the university exam board. My father could probably have used his influence to get me in but I wanted to do something different. Otherwise I would always be living in the shadow of my siblings.'
'And did your father use his influence with Don Hernan.'
She stiffened. 'No, Senor ! This I did by myself !'
'I think there might be another reason you chose this...career.'
'And what might that be, Senor ?' She turned to face me again. Uncanny ! I knew from the tone of her voice that she understood my comment.
'Where I come from, slaves who lie to their masters are punished.' I told her, clipping the reins to her nipples and pulling them firmly.
'She winced again. I'm not a slave, I'm a pony.'
'Really.' I lifted the reins pulling on her sensitive nipples.
'Senor...!'
I eased the tension on her nipples.
'Si, Senor. Camilla is submissive.' She admitted.
'And the other girls ?' I asked, clipping the centre chain between the rings on the inside of her breasts.
'Not all are submissive though many are.' She said, before adding with a smile. 'Some are dominant.'
'And are you all little rich girls living out your S&M fantasies ?'
'Girls come from a variety of backgrounds. PonyGirl polo is a growing sport in Argentina; especially among the young people. Many girls want to be ponies or players; they like the excitement, to be celebrities...stars. Many young men wish to be grooms.'
'I bet they do.'
'It is an opportunity for many, a chance to escape poverty or...unhappiness. It can be a hard life but the rewards are many.'
'Especially if you're a submissive little senorita.'
'Si, Senor.' She bowed her head in acknowledgement.
Looking round, I checked we were alone or, at least, unobserved then I bent and gently kissed each of her nipples.
'Senor has a vey gentle touch.' She squirmed deliciously, blindly. 'But I hope he will not be too gentle with Camilla.'
I picked up the bridle and pulled it over her head, easing the bit into her mouth then tightened the straps firmly and methodically despite my enthusiasm to take her. I could sense her eagerness too.
When she was ready, I checked her harness then took a moment to enjoy her, standing there, harnessed and bridled, head up, shoulders back, her little breasts thrust forward, nipples stiff; her belly was taut, flat; her back slightly rounded, bottom full; thighs trim, calves tight tapering to her 'hooves'.
I couldn't resist touching her, not out of necessity this time as when I'd been harnessing her but because I wanted to, because I could; she was mine. Gently, I stroked her breasts, brushing the sensitive nipples and then I cupped her perfect round bottom. Her breathing became faster, her nostrils flaring; I was sure I could smell her arousal in the cool night air.
'Master wants you to do something for him.' I whispered.
She stiffened slightly then nodded a fraction.
'I'm not punishing you but, where I come from, I like to see a pony with a tail.'
She stiffened but then nodded again.
I knew where it was kept and I left her standing, helpless, waiting for me while I fetched it from her stable.
She shuddered as I pushed it into her, twisting and locking it.
'Remember I said, Master is not punishing you.'
She nodded. Her breathing was rapid, her nostrils flaring, her body eager with anticipation.
Then I climbed into the gig enjoying the sight, almost a silhouette now in the darkness of my lovely pert ponygirl with her tail hanging behind her lovely round bottom. I could have easily spent a few minutes more just looking at her but she was so charged with excitement that I wasn't sure I could hold her back much longer.
CHAPTER 24: SHIRAZ' NIPPLES
I flicked the whip, calling to her to trot which she did immediately, a beautiful high trot that would have scored her a perfect ten in the dressage back at Mares-de-Launce.
She was, once again, a delight to drive, a well tuned sportscar, responsive and, dare I say it, throbbing with power. I drove her up the hill, a beautiful rising trot then a canter despite the incline. She was a polo pony and as fit as they come; from my time in harness, I knew now more about what a body could achieve and how to make this happen. On a couple of occasions, she seemed to be trying to slow but I used the whip sharply and she maintained her speed.
By the time we stopped, we were probably no more than two hundred yards from the firsts' stable. I could see lights through the trees. Ahead of me, Camilla stood gasping. It was very dark here in the woods and I could barely see her, just the occasional glint of a buckle or the flash of pale skin when the moon emerged from behind a cloud. After the heat of the day, the temperature was dropping fast.
The firsts were, I told myself over-rated; Maria-Argenta was not my type.
The moon came out suddenly, pale light bathing Camilla's skin, giving her a strange, ghostly appearance; I saw the cloud of her breath.
I turned her back onto the road and let her walk for a few minutes before whipping her to a trot.
I pulled over when the Hacienda was in sight and climbed out of the gig; then I released my panting pony from between the shafts and lead her onto the side of a training field. She followed obediently and, when I pulled down on her reins, dropped to her knees, spreading them.
She was so beautiful in spite of the hood; or perhaps because of it. I could make her anyone; fantasise that she was Maria-Argenta or, perhaps, Bryony. I didn't; I had my obedient polo pony for the evening.
I went down on my knees too and bent, kissing her nipples again, enjoying her squirm. She skin was wet, salty; I could taste the chilli powder too.
Then I undid her bit and kissed her, pushing myself against her and feeling her respond.
'Let Camilla please you, Master.' She gasped.
'Camilla already pleases me.' I told her, kissing her again.
I pushed her backwards so she lay with legs folded under her, hips up, sex open, presented to me.
I'd been used as a pony by the most beautiful woman I'd ever met, teased by naked chaste women, lead around on a cock leash, humiliated and now I was in control of a beautiful, submissive and eager pony. I really couldn't wait much longer.
She was warm and wet and just as responsive as I expected but not as ready as I was. I thrust hard onto her, enjoying the tightness of her pussy and her moans my climax building...urgent...blissful.
I came quickly and felt her thrust against me, eager for her own orgasm but I knew she was some way off and, as I pulled out of her, she moaned with frustrated lust.
'Senor...!' She whispered the word. "Please...'
'Patience.' I told her sliding my hand between her legs to provide some relief from the need she felt.
'I can get fingers and tongues in the stable, Senor.' She said, slightly irritably.
'Then you'll have to wait.'
'You are not going to put me back in harness ?' She sounded surprised.
'Only if you misbehave.'
'Camilla will be good girl.' She said quickly.
She was, a very good girl and a very hot one too, screaming so loudly when I tongued her that I was forced to put her bit back in. I worked on her until she was thrashing her head from side to side and whimpering the need for hard cock inside her.
It didn't me long to get hard again and then I pushed myself into her.
'Oh, Shenor.' She moaned as I entered her. 'Shi, shi, shi...'
She climaxed loudly and my own orgasm built and then came again just before me, her body spasming repeatedly until I spurted inside her and and we both lay gasping.
'I hope you are not minding your pony to be limping tomorrow.'
The sun was rising when I trotted Camilla back into the stableyard.
'We were, becoming worried, Senor.' Juan said, stifling a yawn as he lead two hooded second team ponies towards a pair of waiting gigs.
'I've brought her back safely.' I said.
'We were not worried about her, Senor.' He said using his whip to halt the pair. 'It would not go well with us if we lost one of Don Hernan's honoured guests.' He said with a laugh. 'I think you are just in time for breakfast, Senor.' Then he looked at Camilla. 'Camilla on the other hand is late and will be punished.'
She hadn't mentioned this is a possibility.
'I shall take her from you, Senor.'
'Yes, thank you, Juan.' I climbed out of the gig and patted Camilla on the bottom.
'Was she a bad girl, Senor ?' Juan was looking at her tail.
'Yes.' I said with a smile. 'Positively wicked.' I passed him Camilla's reins and walked away.
The others were all at breakfast; Marie-Argenta included but I managed to avoid eye contact as I poured myself a strong coffee and slid onto a bench beside Goose.
'You look like shit !' She said in her usual no-nonsense manner.
'It must be Wednesday then.' I said sarcastically as I sipped my coffee.
'Yes.' She said. 'Apparently, I'm playing with the firsts today.' She lowered her voice. 'Is that where you were yesterday ?'
I nodded, glancing up at Maria-Argenta despite my resolve not to.
She was just so gorgeous and I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy that she was going to be playing with Goose today.
'Is she as much of a bitch as her reputation suggests ?'
'Worse.' I was sore and stiff in places I didn't think possible. I was also reminded of some of the cruelties I'd seen in the firsts' stable.
'Oh joy !' Goose said. 'Cause I can't help feeling I'm going to be playing pony.'
Maria-Argenta started towards us and I forced myself to look down.
Then she was standing above me.
I looked up; she was so beautiful.
Maria-Argenta blanked me.
'Shall we go.' She said to Goose.
'Yes, Mistress.' Goose stood up.
I was given the choice between Shiraz and Helena as my pony.
'I thought Senor had forgotten me.' Shiraz said as I fetched her from her stall.
Helena simply glared at me, but then, she was gagged and sported a series of whip-marks across her breasts that had nothing to do with a game of polo.
The two ponies were still chained at opposite ends of the stall by their clit piercings.
I clipped a lead rein to Shiraz' nipple rings and then unclipped her clit.
'You have a lovely gentle touch, Senor.' Shiraz said as she stood.
As usual in the stable, they'd been stabled booted and with their arms sheathed.
I lead her out into to yard and began to harness her.
Two players from the firsts were harnessing Bryony and PLT, commenting that the two English ponies were still not pierced.
Shiraz, of course, although her nipples were not 'rigged' so, after fitting her harness, I had the pleasure of rigging the nipple rings of a fully pierced polo pony, clipping the chain between the rings on on the inside of her areoles and then fastening the reins to those on the outside. I was just about to clip the little chains to the small horizontal rings through her nipples when Valentina appeared behind me.
'You should sensitise her before we go out.' The coach handed me something that looked like a nail file and a small pot of liquid.
'Please be gentle, Senor.' Shiraz tried to take a step back but I was holding her reins.
'Should I bridle you first ?'
'No, Senor. Shiraz will be a good pony.'
I could see one of the players rubbing the nail file over her pony's nipples. She was holding the girl's breast and had her reins wrapped around her forearm to keep her still. The ponygirl had her eyes closed and looked tense; she was biting hard on her bit.
I did the same, holding one of Shiraz' neat little breasts as I rubbed the file over her nipple. Like the other pony she closed her eyes and whimpered gently though was clearly trying to hold herself still.
After a few moments her nipple red and raw, bleeding in a few places.
Shiraz' eyes were screwed up tight and I thought I could see tears squeezing through onto her lashes.
I moved on to prepare the other nipple.
Behind me there was a scream and I turned. The player who I'd been watching had applied the chili liquid to her pony's nipples.
I turned back to find Shiraz looking at me, her lovely dark eyes moist with tears.
'Ready ?'
'Si, Senor. Shiraz will be good girl.'
I poured the liquid from the vial into my hand, rubbed my palms together. Even as I did so I felt a slight burn from the liquid. Then put my hands on Shiraz' breasts.
She screwed her eyes tight and whimpered slightly but did not cry out then she looked at me with eyes that were overfull with tears; I them spill out onto her thick, dark lashes. Her lip was trembling.
It would have melted the heart of a lesser man and I had to fight down the urge to take her in my arms.
As it was, I wiped the tears away.
'Gracias, Senor.' She said; her voice trembled.
I gave her a moment while I went to fetch her hood and bridle and she stood quietly as I put them in place.
Then, I took the little chain from her reins and clipped it to the small ring in her nipple. The chain is designed to be slightly too short, to stretch the nipple a little to the side making it constantly under tension, exquisitely responsive to the tug of the rein. Again, she gasped slightly around her bit; her nipples were swollen to almost twice their usual size and so red they were practically glowing.
I couldn't resist touching them in turn gently stroking them then quickly turned round to make sure nobody was watching such obviously sentimental behaviour.
Needless to say, Bryony was looking straight at me. Fortunately, I was spared any blushes as, at that moment, her player pulled a hood over her head and buckled it in place.
CHAPTER 25: WEDNESDAY EVENING
Goose was in the courtyard of the Hacienda when I came down from my room that evening. We'd been invited for drinks and dinner. She was wearing more make-up than usual and underneath I could see she looked tired. She was wearing a long dress too, pink of course, a sort of gauzy floating number that, I suspected, didn't press to hard against anything sore. If her day had been anything like my own experience of the firsts, she probably ached all over.
'Good day with the firsts ?'
'Oh, yes.' She gave a slight smile.
'More fun than your night of passion with Don Carlos ?'
Goose glared at me then suddenly there were tears in her eyes.
'Are you ok ?'
'I'm just tired.' She said in a very un-Goose-like manner wiping a her eyes.
'I'm sorry.' I said. 'Was it awful'
I imagined him pawing her, a man twice her age...
She was silent for a moment then shook her head.
'No, that's it.' She wiped her eyes again. 'In fact, it was wonderful. He was..such a gentleman. He made me feel...' She was blushing under her make-up. 'He made me feel special.'
I looked around wishing there was someone else there to help me out. Women were good at these things but most of them were chained up in the stable. It all sounded a bit Mills and Boon to me. I put my arms around her.
'Sorry.' She said nestling her head onto my shoulder. 'I really must be tired.'
I'd never seen the Goose like this.
'It's just... I'm... Well, I'm me. People see me as 'The Goose'.' She didn't use the word 'loose'. 'Sometimes, I just want to have someone special.'
'You've got Pretty.' I felt awkward but held her trying remember she wasn't just another hot ponygirl pressing herself against me as her body seemed to be suggesting.
'Oh yes.' She sighed. 'Pretty is a lot of fun and she absolutely loves to be dominated but...' She's' she looked around. 'She's lovely but, well, she's a bit...thick really. I mean she's a beautifully submissive and...well gorgeous; and those tits...but she's hardly someone I can relax with; get stimulation from...well, other than that sort of stimulation. Besides, she knows what she wants.'
I'd thought the same about her. After her photoshoot with Bryony she's been pestering Terry for another one and I could see the way she behaved round the grooms. 'You must have friends through work.'
She stood up and smiled wiping away the tears. 'Yes, those city boys love to be dominated.' She smiled through the tears. 'I have the most amazing pair of shiny black thigh boots in my flat in London and they're very clean.' She force a laugh. 'But they're just after a good time.'
I managed to repress the urge to ask if they paid for her services. I'm not that crass.
'You'll meet someone...' I said rather lamely. 'It's not as if you're not without admirers here.'
'Oh, Mike, you know what I mean. You get frustrated with Bryony when she's in full submissive mode. Sometimes you just want to sit down with a coffee and talk about...oh, I don't know...the weather...literature...' He voice trailed off.
Girls do share little intimacies !
'Don Carlos was just...caring.' She continued. 'And funny...a gentleman.'
'You talked about art and literature all night ?'
'God no !' She laughed. 'He spanked me soundly and fucked me senseless but in between...it was one of the best fucking nights I've ever had.'
I watched as she wiped her eyes and looked around. 'You know she bought a one way ticket don't you ?' She said suddenly.
'What ?' I said, suddenly alarmed.
'Pretty, not Bryony you twat.' Goose said with a condescension that suggested she was getting over her morose mood.
'I didn't.' I was...actually, I wasn't that surprised. PLT knew what she wanted and had the pretty smile and pert little body to get it.
'So your fucking mate Justin had better be at the airport with a bunch of flowers when we get back or that chastity belt I've left him in is staying on til next Christmas.'
The Goose was back and, I thought for a moment, Justin was probably a very lucky man.
'Come on.' I said taking her hand. 'Let's go and get a drink.
Barbie and Charles were already on the terrace with Don Hernan. The luscious blonde was wearing a blue silk dress that was laced together on one side with a gold thread; it barely covered her fabulous breasts and the slit at the side went all the way to her waist; Cassie would have hated it.
They'd been out for the day.
'Don Hernan has been asking me about the Mares team.' Barbie said.
'So do we officially have a team ?' I was still a little unclear that this was anything substantial.
'Oh, yes.' Barbie smiled. 'Los Lanceurs'
She showed me a picture of badge; a lancer from the Napoleonic era standing holding a horse with the silhouette a of pony girl next to him.
'Nice.'
The next sketch showed a blonde pony who bore a striking resemblance to her daughter Cassie; the pony wore in a cream harness; and bridle; stock collar, boots to the thigh; she was being lead by nipple reins by a girl in a cream military style costume; Dolman jacket with gold buttons and braiding, tight breeches, cavalry boots.
'Are we really up to this ?' Goose asked peering over my shoulder.
'It is all about showmanship, Senorita.' Don Hernan said. 'I was hoping your team could put in an appearance at the match on Saturday.'
'I'm not sure we're ready for that.' Now I really was worried.
'Miguel, you do not have to play.' He laughed. 'That would not be a good thing; but 'the English team' Los Lanceurs, it will lift he occasion; inspire interest...'
'What are you asking for ?' I asked.
'That you and Senorita Goose attend in your team's colours with a pair of your lovely English ponies.'
'Bryony and Pretty.' Charles added.
'Don Hernan is very excited by the idea.' Barbie said.
'Not to mention the business opportunities.' Charles added.
Don Hernan frowned slightly but did not contradict him.
Dinner was much the same as the first time we had dined at our host's table although Don Hernan had dropped and pretense at 'respectability' and the potra who served us did so naked aside from toe boots and collars; they were all gagged too; large red balls strapped in their mouths. There was one for each of us: potra/servant/slave-girl whatever you want to call them; Charles, Barbie, Reuben, Goose and Don Hernan himself; a dusky beauty standing attentively beside us ready to attend to our every whim.
I was relieved that Maria-Argenta wasn't there even as part of me longed to see her again.
There was more dancing too but I didn't see Saher; she had at least another two weeks before she was allowed to dance again. It wasn't the dancer from Saturday night either.
I was, of course, offered the little brunette who had served me; Gracia, according to the tag on her collar; but I really needed to go to bed and I left as soon as was polite accompanied by Goose.
'Disappointed the lovely Maria-Argenta wasn't there ?' Goose asked me as we left.
I shrugged.
'Don't give me that, PonyBoy !' Goose said with a laugh. 'I know all about your day with the firsts...all of it !'
'She's a very attractive woman.'
'Dominant too !' Goose said pointedly.
'So I believe.'
Goose looked at me skeptically.
'There's something I want to show you.' She said
She lead me down some back stairs into the basement of the Hacienda and passed a huge bodega full of bottle and casks. At the end of a damp stone corridor we came to a wooden door with iron bands. Goose pulled back a small panel in the door to let me see inside.
It was a medieval torture chamber or something very like it, complete with whipping posts, a giant wheel, various chains and cages, some dangling from the ceiling; it even had a stretching rack. It had its own torture victim too; a woman, hooded hanging by her wrists from chains that were bolted to the ceiling; they held her wrists about two feet apart; her ankles were chained too; short chains holding them to the floor, ankles again about two feet apart; the chains pulled tight, stretching the woman's body; displaying it and rendering it completely vulnerable; her toes stretched several inches above the floor. She, the victim, had skin the cafe-au-lait colour of many of the ponies in the stable but perhaps she was a little taller than most of them and she had very large breasts.
'Stablemistress Jauanita ?' I asked quietly.
Goose nodded.
Stablemistress Juanita had clearly been enjoying the full delights the 'playroom' had to offer; hanging helpless and hooded; her body had clearly been abused; her skin was covered whip marks, many clearly the result of some sort of knotted or barbed whip that had in places torn her skin; there were other marks too, red, burns perhaps but it was her breasts that appeared to have suffered most and were still suffering; both were tightly bound at the bases turning them into huge dusky orbs, the skin where it was not bruised or burned was a frighteningly dark blue colour; each breast was decorated with several dozen pins that looked like acupuncture needles, blood dried around many of them where they entered the skin; she had standard pony piercings and the middle two rings were linked by a chain just like when in harness but the outer ones were stretched with thin cords tied to objects some distance away; the central rings were hidden as each nipple was crushed by toothed clamps hung with spiked weights. Between her spread legs, a heavy clamp similar to the ones in her nipples hung from her clitoris and this carried a similar spiked weight.
At that moment another figure appeared, more petite but with the same skin colour, her body beautifully toned, firm rounded buttocks and small neat breasts; lustrous dark hair; Maria-Argenta. The gorgeous Hispanic was dressed from head to foot in tight shiny black leather that moulded to her lovely body like a second skin; a high collar around her slim neck and straps down to a leather girdle that stretched enticingly, shiny and smooth over her small pert breasts and her lovely tight bottom. Her shoulders and the tops of her thighs were left bare; her boots coming to just above the knee and tapering to heels that pushed her almost onto the tips of her toes. These boots too were fitted with spurs but the spiked stiletto was just as formidable a weapon.
The click of Maria-Argenta's heels and the faint ring of her spurs sounded loud in the quiet of chamber and the helpless woman lifted her head as the little dominatrix stood in front of her.
'Did you miss me, Kitten ?'
'Yes, Mistress.' Juanita's voice was little more than a whisper; hoarse.
'Well, I'm back now and we have all night.'
'Yes, Mistress.' The woman's head dropped forward slightly as if acknowledging her mistress's comment. Her body moved slightly; the weights on her nipples and clitoris beginning to swing.
Maria-Argenta reached out and stroked her fingers down the helpless woman's body as if she was studying the devastation that she had wrought upon it.
'I have to leave tomorrow.' She said sadly.
'I wish you could stay, Mistress.'
'So do I, Kitten.'
Maria-Argenta picked up something from a nearby table; a rod about a foot long with a handle and wires coming out of the base. She ran the tip of it over Juanita's skin and the woman flinched.
'Do you fear me, Kitten ?'
'Yes, Mistress.'
'And do you love your mistress.' Maria-Argenta continued to tease her victim with the tip of the rod.
'Yes, Mistress.'
'And would you do anything for her ?'
'Of course, Mistress, anything.'
'Good girl.'
I saw Maria-Argenta's thumb move slightly and saw the flash of a spark in the dim light jump from the tip of the rod to the stablemistress' skin; the helpless woman jerked in her bonds and cried out in pain.
'Such a very good girl.' Maria-Argenta moved the rod and, again, a spark jumped to the other woman's body. The reaction was the same.
The third spark lingered longer, flickering for several seconds and Juanita danced in pain, screaming.
'Please, Mistress.' The helpless woman gasped when the pain stopped. 'Gag your slave.'
'But that would spoil my fun, Kitten.' Maria-Argenta touched the woman again for even longer. 'I love to hear you scream.'
Goose closed the flap and we walked back up to the stairs in silence.
Don Hernan had gone and I could see Barbie and Charles out on the terrace. Reuben had presumably taken advantage of the offer of a potra or two or perhaps gone the the stables to find a ponyboy. The drinks were still out including the ice bucket and half a bottle of champagne. Goose grinned as she collected the bucket and refiled it with ice then holding the bottle in one had and the bucket in the other, invited me back to her room.
If I'd had any reservations about a night of sex if not passion with Goose they were dispelled when we entered her room.
A woman lay on Goose's bed with her arms stretched above her head, wrists cuffed to the headboard, her and her legs lifted up, spread and cuffed to the posts at the foot end. I didn't recognise her for a moment but, when I looked away from her spread legs, I could see she was striking; older than Goose, with the classic beauty of a high-born Spanish lady although in the large pink phallus protruding, pink and glistening from her mouth and the position in which she was tied suggested otherwise.
As Goose closed the door, the woman on the bed turned her head towards us revealing the other side of her face and I recognised Valentina.
'I hope you weren't bored.' Goose said putting down the ice bucket and pushing the champagne into it.
Valentina shook her head, the pink phallus dancing obscenely.
Goose found two glasses and poured us a drink.
'I hope you don't mind.' She said undoing her sandals.
I smiled and shook my head taking a sip of champagne.
'Would you ?' Goose turned and lifted her hair.
'Oh ?'
'Come on Mike, it's not as if you haven't seen it all before.'
I unzipped the back of the dress and Goose let it slide to the floor.
Goose wasn't one to bother with underwear but, for a girl that had been playing pony with the firsts, she had very little to show for it. There were some fresh scratches but these looked more like nail-marks.
She took her glass and sat herself on the bed leaning against Valentina's body.
I tried not to look too closely but they did make a delightful scene; the brunette helpless, humiliatingly bound and gagged; the blonde lounging against her, bare breasted and flashing the soft pink folds of her pussy at me.
'Pass me some ice would you.' Goose held out her hand and I dropped some ice into it.
Goose twisted and let some of the ice slide onto Valentina's right nipple. The helpless woman squirmed. Goose moved to her left nipple then she bent and kissed them making Valentina moan into her gag.
'So, this is what you meant by stimulating conversation ?' I asked.
'I'll take her gag out in a moment.' Goose said taking another sip of champagne. 'Then we can talk tactics.'
'Really ?'
'Or you can sit there and watch us fuck ?' Goose responded.
She passed me her glass and turned to undo Valantina's gag before pulling it out of the woman's mouth.
I watched them kiss and then Goose took her glass back and fed a small sip to her prisoner.
'So, tactics...' Goose said.
And bizarrely we did; with Goose and Valentina naked we drank champagne and talked about polo moves until the bottle was empty.
By this time, Valentina's nipples had been repeatedly teased and Goose's fingers had wormed their way into her pussy so that the helpless brunette was struggling a little to keep her mind focussed.
'Any way, Mike.' Goose said suddenly when there was a lull in the conversation. 'Valentina and I have things to do. You're welcome to join us but...' She held up the penis gag. 'There's only one way this is going to be of any use to you.'
I could have suggested there were other ways I might entertain them but I felt it was time to withdraw although, curiously, I was tempted.
CHAPTER 26: SAUCE FOR THE GOOSE
After a night of celibacy I'd been rather looking forward to seeing Bryony the next morning but by the time I'd got the the stables she'd already gone. Apparently, it was her turn to play with the firsts. I had to content myself with the pleasures of Shiraz during the day. She really was shaping up as a nice, obedient little pony and, if I was any judge, would find herself a place in the seconds before long.
Bryony wasn't in her stall on the Thursday night either and I quickly found out that, after her day with the firsts, she had been summoned for a second night with Don Hernan. I felt a pang of jealousy but was hardly in a position to complain. She was, however, going to be a very tired little pony.
All was not lost though; there was a pony being punished in the centre of the yard and, when I went to investigate, I found Camilla stretched between the whipping poles in much the same way as Rubber Dolly had been the week before. She even had a multibladed whip between her teeth. I smacked her bottom and she turned, grinning around the whip. I thought I might be in for a bit of fun but Camilla shook her head looking down; I followed her gaze. She was wearing a chastity belt.
'You really have been naughty !'
She shrugged and pouted but clung onto the whip.
I patted her captive sex and she giggled, tossing her head then I left her to it figuring that, perhaps I might come back a little later and have some fun with Shiraz.
Back in the guest quarters, I wasn't too surprised to meet Goose on the way back to the room though I was a little surprised by the shiny pink PVC mini dress and matching ankle high toe boots she was wearing. Fairly typical for the Goose these days she was carrying a bottle of wine and, I thought, swaying slightly or perhaps it was the heels.
'Mike.' She turned and gave me what, for Goose, was a winning smile.
The dress had a zip at the front which was somewhere above the level of her navel providing a perfect view of her large round breasts.
'Entertaining again ?' I asked with a grin.
'Pretty and I just having a quiet night in.' She said, her words slightly slurred. 'Care to join us ?'
She fingered the zip of her dress pulling t down a little further allowing her breasts to fight their way a little further towards freedom.
'Why not.'
She turned to open the door.
I'd expected to find Pretty Little Thing stretched out on the bed like Valentina had been the night before but she was kneeling on the floor at the foot of Goose's bed with her hands tied behind her back; her collar was chained to the bottom of the bed. The little blonde was blindfolded and gagged and there were clover clamps hanging from her nipples. She bowed her head slightly as her mistress entered.
'They're very well geared up to keeping slaves here.' The Goose said putting her wine on the low table beside two glasses already standing there.
'They certainly are.' I watched as she bent forward and kissed the kneeling blonde on the top of the head. 'Are you wearing a tail ?'
She turned and grinned at me. 'No, just a set of anal beads. They're all the rage these days.' She lifted the little PVC skirt of her dress revealing the smooth curve of her bottom which was surprisingly bruised. 'Perhaps you could help me remove them later. I'm told you're quite the expert.'
'I have my talents.' I told her. 'Can I ask how you got all those bruises.'
'You can ask.' She looked at me, pausing for a moment. 'You'll recall I spent the day with the firsts on yesterday...'
I hadn't recalled seeing them the previous evening but perhaps they'd only just come out or, perhaps, I'd been to busy looking at her breasts or at Valentina stretched helplessly on the bed.
'Drink ?' She asked with a smile.
I nodded.
She opened the wine and poured two glasses, passing me one then, bent in a way that gave me a full view of the last any bead as she began to unzip her toe boots. 'You don't mind, do you.' She said looking over her shoulder. 'My feet are killing me. 'I've no idea how Pretty wears these things all weekend.'
I didn't mind at all.
She slipped out of the killer boots and, barefoot, turned back to face me, sitting in the armchair opposite and giving me more than a passing flash of pink pussy as she crossed her legs.
'Cheers.' She said, raising her glass.
We clinked glasses and each took a sip; the wine was beautifully chilled.
An awkward silence followed during which my gaze drifted over the blonde in the PVC minidress sitting opposite me. As I've said, the Goose isn't bad looking, nice eyes, rather big nose; she has a lovely body.
She has fabulous breasts too.
'You can take a closer look if you like.' She clearly knew exactly what I was looking at.
She pulled her zip all the way down and shrugged her shoulders out of the dress. I tried not to choke on my wine.
'There a good size for binding.' She said matter-of-factly.
'Really ?'
'There's some lovely leather rope in the ottoman.' She rolled her wineglass across her right breast and used the rim to tease her nipple.
'Is there ?' I put my glass down.
If her room was as well equipped as mine I could probably restrain half a dozen Gooses.
'Perhaps I'll let you try later.' She raised her eyebrows and took a sip of wine then she pressed her glass to the other breast, her nipples stiffening.
'Pretty !' She called sharply. 'Come to Mistress.'
I turned to see the pretty blonde crawling blindly forward. It was clearly something she was used to. She crawled past my chair and Goose lifted a foot, planting it on her slave's chest to stop her.
'Be a dear and remove her gag would you, Mike.'
I leant forward and undid the little blonde's gag strap, easing the large pink ball out of her mouth and depositing it on the table.
'Thank you, Sir.' PLT licked her lips. 'Thank you, Mistress.'
Goose's foot slid across the kneeling blonde's chest and she used her toes to play with one of the girl's clamped nipples. Like her fingernails, Goose's toenails were painted a soft pink.
I sipped my wine watching the display and trying not to make it too obvious I could see Goose's pussy. Fortunately, Goose transferred her attention to PLT's other nipple in a what looked to be a blatant attempt to display her sex.
'Suck Mistress' toes.'
I looked up sharply from Goose's pussy blushing but realised she was talking to PLT.
Goose pointed her toes, a rather sexy gesture which showed off or trim thigh and shapely calf, and slid them into PLT's mouth. The kneeling girl closed her lips around them eagerly.
'Good, girl.' Goose giggled, holding her foot still for a moment as PLT's tongue ran across under her toes.
'She's very well trained.' Goose looked at me and took a sip of wine.
'Down you come.' She turned back towards PLT and slowly lowered her foot. The kneeling girl followed, sucking and licking at her Mistress' toes until she was stretched out on the floor, lying on her belly, her wrists still bound behind her.
Goose switched feet and lay back in the chair.
'Ohhhh !.' she said with a smile. 'I do like these beads.'
She crossed her legs the other way.
'So, Mike.' I think you were about to go to the trunk to get that rope.
'Yes.' I stood up way too quickly then took a breath as I put my glass down.
There were a number of coils of braided leather rope in the trunk. They were like those that had been used when we'd done the girl hunt at the weekend. By the time I'd gathered them up, Goose had slipped out of her dress. She stood beside the leather armchair holding her wine, PLT still lying at her feet licking her mistress' toes.
'Enough.'
Pretty lifted her head and wriggled slightly backwards.
'How do you want me ?' Goose asked.
'On your knees with your hands behind your head.'
'Ooooh, dominant.' She obeyed, moving slowly, sliding her fingers into her long blonde hair and gathering it up as she dropped to her knees. I might have punished Bryony for moving slowly but if she'd done it like that, I would probably have let her off; there was no doubt that Goose was flirting
I started with a chest harness, ropes above and below her breasts; with Bryony all I could do was hitch a loop between them and tighten them together around her little buds but Goose's tits were far larger and I found I could actually wind the ropes around their bases as well. In a few moments, the pale white flesh was turning a dusky blue.
'They get very sensitive like this.' She said with a slight smile. 'Sir.'
I hefted them in my hands playing with the nipples.
Goose moaned.
I looked down at Pretty still lying on her belly beside me. She was still blindfolded but must have known what was going on.
'If you're thinking of clamping my nipples...' Goose said. '...you'd better tie my hands first.'
She pushed her hair over her shoulder so it hung in front of her breasts and dropped her arms behind her back; even without any bondage, her elbows nearly touched.
I put a cinch of rope around her elbows and pulled them together, then I bound her wrists.
'You seem very well practiced.' She said testing her bonds.
'I try to keep up my hand in.'
She was quite flexible and, despite the bondage could easily bring her hands round in front of her body.
I put a few turns around her belly noticing the little pink pearl that pierced her navel.
'Ever thought of getting anything else pierced ?' I asked.
'Occasionally.' She lifted her head and turned to look down at Pretty. 'That, probably.'
I took the opportunity to play with her nipples.
'Don't even think about it.' Goose said, glaring at me. 'My nips are staying virgin.'
'If you say so.' I stepped behind her and pulled her wrists up then tied them to the rope around her waist so her elbows stuck out behind her then reached over and had another play with her breasts.
'And they say men are useless at foreplay.' She said as I teased her nipples. 'There is another set of clamps in the trunk. It would be a shame to spoil Pretty's fun.'
I found them and clipped them to her nipples.
'I'd forgotten how much fun it was to play sub.' She said shaking her chest so the little chain between the clamps danced and clicked.
'You enjoyed your day with the firsts then ?'
'Very much so.' She raised and eyebrow. 'Do I take it you've had a similar experience ?'
'I might have done.' I tried not to blush.
'And you enjoyed it too ?'
'I might have done.'
The Goose smiled. 'Anytime you want to repeat the experience, my door is always open. Perhaps we could use the troika and I could run you with Bryony and Pretty.'
'I'll pass.' I told her.
'You're loss.' She shrugged. 'Now don't go tying my legs together or you won't be able to fuck me.'
I looked at her with surprise and I think Pretty turned her head too. Goose had been flirting but I'd half expected the brush off and a request to be left alone with PLT engage in a little lesbian bondage fun (probably with instructions to come back and untie her later).
'I didn't bring you in here for a tongue-lashing and a bit of fun with a knotted crotch rope.' She said tersely. 'I can get all the tongue action I want from Pretty and you'd be amazed what a girl can wear under a business suit to keep her spirits up during long board meetings.' She smiled at my response. 'But sometimes a girl just wants real cock.'
'You really know how to make a man feel valued, you know.' I told her.
'You're so sensitive, Mike.' She chided. 'Man up. Sometimes girls just want a cock and that ripped body. You must have realised that this week.'
'You don't mind if I gag you, I hope.'
'I was hoping you would.' She said with a smile. 'I'd hate to lose control and kiss you by mistake.' Her cheeks were flushed now, and her chest; she was panting too, clearly aroused by the bondage. 'The gag Pretty was wearing will be fine. She'll need her mouth to pull out the beads.'
Beside me Pretty Little Thing squirmed.
'You'd better let her up.' Goose said. 'Those nipples will be throbbing by now.'
Leaving Goose tied, I lifted PLT to her knees the removed the little slave's blindfold.
'Thank you, Sir.' Pretty said. She was blinking her eyes against the light, something that looked very flirtatious with her huge eyes and long lashes.
'Don't let her pull the beads out too fast.' The Goose said from her kneeling position. 'And don't make me cum too quickly !'
Taking care not to say 'yes, Mistress', I pushed the gag into Goose's mouth then secured it behind her head. Then I blindfolded her.
'Mmmmmm !' Goose squirmed with pleasure.
She looked fabulous, tightly bound with the leather ropes dimpling her flesh, her mouth stretched round the huge pink ball. I love to see a girl blindfolded.
All I needed to do was arrange was the logistics.
There was a chair by the desk and I carried it over to where Goose was kneeling, guiding PLT to kneel in front of it. Then undressed.
'Stand up.' I told Goose.
She rose easily to her feet.
I sat on the chair and pulled her towards me, making her straddle me, then I guided her down onto my cock.
To my right the wardrobe mirror gave me a perfect side on view of the helpless blindfolded and gagged blonde with her breasts bound and nipples clamped.
In front of me, her bound orbs bounced enticingly.
'Mmmmmm.' She was very ready for me and I slipped into her easily.
I steadied her with my hands on her bottom and then, slowly, she began to ride me, tiny movements up and down while PLT licked and kissed her bottom and thighs and, at one point bending forward to lick the soles of her mistress' bare feet. As the Goose got into a rhythm, I simply hooked a finger into one of the ropes round her chest to keep her upright and took the opportunity to play with her breasts, pulling on her clamped nipples with gradually increasing force.
It was some time before the kneeling slave took the beads in her teeth and started to pull them out and even when she did so she did them one at a time, often pausing to to allow her mistress a few moments to recover from the obvious surges of pleasure the helpless dominant was enjoying. Pretty was clearly used to pleasuring her mistress' and, when Goose's cries rose in pitch around the gag, the little blonde clearly knew it was time to take the remaining beads out a little more quickly.
Goose began whimpering with pleasure, gasping a little more loudly as each bead came out and increasing her exertions around my cock until she threw her head back and howled into her gag, her legs shaking as she pumped up and down prolonging what was clearly an impressive orgasm.
'Ug...ug...ug...' She cried. Fuck...fuck...fuck...
I enjoyed a pretty good climax too, coming my load inside her before she slumped forward, sitting in my lap breathing hard and giving little whimpers each time my cock twitched.
CHAPTER 27: REUNITED
The next morning saw Maria-Argenta bring Juanita to breakfast on a choke leash; there were tightly knotted leather thongs binding her body and breasts like a harness that had been over-tightened, dimpling her flesh; her wrists were bound to her upper arms and shoulders and her calves welded to the backs of her thighs so she walked on her elbows and knees. She was muzzled too, a swathe of leather across her jaw that had held a huge ring forcing her mouth into a gaping O; the muzzle was held tightly in place by more leather thongs, knotted and twisted tight, wound so they stretched in front of her eyes limiting her vision; others were tied to nasal hooks that distorted her nose painfully. There was a thong bound in her hair too that stretched to an anal hook, pulling her head back so severely that everyone could see her face with its deformed nose and the gaping O of her mouth that was enforced by the muzzle.
Between the web of leather that encased her body, her bruised, abraided flesh was visible where she had been, to all intents and purposes, tortured by her beautiful, terrifying mistress.
She walked to heel beside her mistress on a leash clipped to one of her nipple rings and, as she knelt beside the lovely Maria-Argenta I could see where the stablemistress' buttocks had been relentlessly paddled, the flesh blistered and red. There was something stuffed into her pussy, stretching it, her piercings laced almost but not quite closed over whatever torment violated her; or perhaps this was something for pleasure; it was hard to imagine that she loved her mistress purely for the pain the beautiful dominant inflicted.
The shiny leather goddess who had dominated the helpless Juanita when I'd seen them in the playroom now wore a cream business suit though she still wore boots with spiked heels; there were no spurs this morning.
Despite what had been done, the punished stablemistress knelt close to her mistress, rubbing up against the girl's booted legs at every opportunity.
After breakfast we accompanied Don Hernan to see his sister off, Marie-Argenta walking towards helicopter with her pet still leashed as if she was reluctant to give her up until the last possible moment until finally she crouched in front of her adoring pet, spread knees and stroked her head allowing the surprisingly submissive stablemistress to press her muzzle and probably her tongue intimately against her mistress' pussy. Maria-Argenta then stood and, after a slight shudder turned away handing her pet's leash to one of the servants; then, after scanning the assembled crowd of onlookers, climbed into the waiting helicopter.
Back in the stablyard, I found Bryony and PLT being lead to polo gigs by a pair of blue jacketed grooms. They were covered in whip marks all over, way more than one would expect from a day between the shafts and certainly way more than Goose had acquired.
It was the first time I'd seen Bryony since the night when I'd pulled the anal beads out of her squirming, spasming body.
I went over to her and hooked a finger in her nipple ring pulling her close, her lips barely inches from mine. I could tell she wanted to kiss me but was holding back.
She looked up at me, her body almost trembling and I wondered if she was exhausted by her previous day's exertion or, perhaps, her night with Don Hernan.
'Please. Master...' She whispered. 'Please.'
'You know we'll be punished for that.' PLT said.
'Good.' I said turning to look at the little blonde who dropped her eyes. 'A pony must know her place.'
I kissed Bryony full on the lips, feeling her body respond, her tongue pushing its way into my mouth her breasts pressed against my chest. She was lean and firm and unbelivable eager.
'I heard you'd become more dominant.' PLT said.
I turned to glare at her. 'You will remember to address me as 'Sir'.'
'Yes, Sir.' I could see a gleam of excitement in PLT's eyes.
Bryony's eyes shone with excitement too.
'Master...' She whispered.
'Can I assume you trained with the firsts yesterday ?' I said stepping back and seeing a look of profound disappointment on Bryony's face.
'Yes, Master.' Bryony couldn't keep the smile off her face.
She stood there in front of me naked, arms restrained behind her, her little breasts thrust towards me and her legs apart; she was almost screaming 'fuck me'. I couldn't resist sliding my hand between her legs. Even her inner thighs were bruised.
'Have you been pussywhipped ?'
'Yes, Master.' Bryony squirmed on my fingers.
'We both have.' PLT cut in with a degree of pride.
'It was PLTs fault.' Bryony told me not taking her eyes from mine. 'She said we could take anything they threw at us.'
'And you were pussywhipped for that ?'
'No we were pussywhipped because she said the day wasn't tough enough.' Bryony told me.
'It was worth it though...' PLT giggled. 'The girls in the firsts were very sympathetic and...well, we were the only two girls in the stable without chastity belts on.'
Any blushes the Pretty blonde might show as a result of her lewd remark were covered up as the groom pulled a leather hood over her head.
'Are you going to tell me what you got up to ?' I asked looking at Bryony.
'I might be your little slave girl...' Bryony shot back. 'But there are some things a master should not know.'
'It wasn't anymore than we do when Bryony stays over with me and Mistress.' PLT said from beneath her hood with an innocence that was obviously feigned.
'Pretty !' Bryony admonished looking sharply at her fellow pony.
'Oh, sorry, Mistress.'
'Mistress ?' I asked intrigued. 'Tell Master more.'
My fiance was saved from further discourse and any explanation as at that moment the groom pulled a hood over her head and a moment later bridled her, settling the bit in her mouth.
'I don't suppose it's anymore than you get up to with Camilla.' PLT said.
Bryony turned sharply towards her. 'Preddy !' She said around her bridle.
'Well.' PLT continued unperturbed. 'I think it's very romantic all those moonlit canters.'
I could see a flush of red beginning on Bryony's chest and spreading up towards her neck, her face hidden by the hood was, no doubt, going the same way; a moment later, her skin was the same colour as her hair. It was a clear sign that the conversation needed to move on. Fortunately, at that moment PLT's groom fitted her bridle and the little blonde was silenced.
At that moment, Ximena and Valeria emerged from the stables, leather clad and gorgeous, both carrying their whips under their arms and tightening their leather gloves; the were talking animatedly and both clearly looking forward to a day training the English ponies. I watched them inspect the ponies, testing tensions in bridles and making disparaging remarks about the need to use bit reins and the lack of nipple bridles. Bryony's player slid a finger through her pony's nipple rings and pulled, saying something to her companion in Spanish that I fully understand but it had something to do with getting 'the red-headed slut' some 'proper nipple rings'.
Then they took up their positions in the gigs and flicking their whips trotted Bryony and PLT out of the stableyard.
Beside me, Jacintha was helping Reuben harness and bridle Rubber Dolly. I suspected the stablemistress might need a day to recover after her torture at the hands of Maria-Argenta but wondered if she might extract a form of revenge on the lovely mare when she returned.
Cream already had The-Cat in harness and like the other players was wearing her leathers, tight on her lovely young fit body. I watched her bend over to adjust a buckle on The-Cat's boot, enjoying the curves of her buttocks; her tan had deepened while she'd been back in the Hacienda and I could just see a thin strip of white at the bottom of her buttocks; then she straightened and turned, stretching casually; clearly knowing I was watching her.
I smiled and went to get Camilla.
We had a superb day's training and, in the afternoon I had a chance to drive Bryony for the first time since our arrival.
She'd certainly learnt a lot since her arrival at the Hacienda and, as I drove her along the training course I could feel how much more agile and responsive she'd become. When she gave up racing, she was going to make a fabulous dressage mare.
After the training course, we moved on to a game and I realised that, although she'd progressed a lot, she wasn't yet up to Camilla's standards. I could see, however, a difference in the way she responded to the reins attached to her bit and the way she did at home.
I was thinking about this as I, somewhat reluctantly handed her reins back to Ximena.
'You are going to have to pierce her properly, Senor.' The lovely leather clad player told me as she took the reins with practiced ease, automatically checking the tension in her harness.
'These are for a carthorse, not a pretty pony.' Ximena pushed a finger through Bryony's patent Morrissey rings.
I pulled gently on the other one recalling my first encounter with them eighteen months ago as Bryony and I fucked for the first time on her kitchen table.
The thought of making her a proper polo pony excited me but I wasn't sure if this was just a compulsion brought about by the holiday, a little like some people get tattoos or buy completely unsuitable clothes.
'Blease, Shir. Bryony said, suddenly. 'Biersh my nibbles.'
How could I refuse ?
As we clattered back into the stables at the end of the afternoon, Don Hernan was in the yard standing beside a busty blonde pony harnessed to an unusual looking gig. The gig was clearly wooden and painted bright blue and had a sort of 'traditional' air about it; it also bore the logo of the stables on the wheel hubs. It took me a moment to recognise the pony harnessed to it was Barbie; of course, it wasn't her face that I recognised.
The blonde was wearing a rather unusual harness which comprised a lacquered blue leather corset and matching neck stock; both, as far as I could see, locked in place; the stock forced her chin up, a position that was further enforced by the tight blue thong braided into her blonde hair and tied off behind her. The corset was ludicrously tight and pulled her already slim waist to almost fantastical proportions, particularly when compared to her huge breasts which in this state seemed even more enormous than usual. Her hands, in mitts, were strapped to the sides of her corset in the classical polo pony style that we'd used when training in Mars-de-Launce but the position was made more strict by the presence of a wooden bar between her elbows and her back that forced her shoulders back. This bar was the base of an inverted triangle that was fastened to the gig's single shaft; a length of polished, lacquered wood that disappeared between the pony's legs.
There were long leather traces from the gig to padded straps on her shoulders that, along with the thong in her hair forced her to stand with her back slightly arched. She wore a very elaborate leather bridle with a huge bit; it was heavily blinkered and decorated with blue plumes. She'd been fitted with bit-reins leaving her nipples free for little silver bells.
The position clearly placed a lot of stress on the helpless woman's body and the strain was obvious in her tense face which was slightly pale and in her blue eyes which were wide and moved restlessly from side to side though the blinkers meant she could see very little. I could see her white teeth clenched tightly onto the enormous bit, her lips drawn back and saliva running freely down her cheeks. She was moving constantly from foot to foot as most ponies do when eager to be off but I thought that the shiny blue leather boots decorated with the stable's logo that were way more extreme than usual pony boots and were probably almost impossible to balance on. There was something about the way she moved her hips too; a kind of writhing circular motion.
'Buenos tardes, Migeul.' Don Hernan called to me. 'Senora Barbie is to be my mascot for the match tomorrow.'
He gestured with his whip towards the blonde.
'She is a beautiful specimen. Would you not agree ?'
'Si, Don Hernan.' I said pulling Camilla to a halt beside him. Barbie might not have trained with the ponies but this looked as if it was to be a suitable challenge for her.
The stable owner ran a gloved hand over Barbie's bottom then slapped it hard.
Barbie gave a little gasp around her bit and rocked on her boots. It was then that I noticed that the thong braided into her hair was attached to a rectal hook.
Don Hernan smiled. 'The shaft of this gig has a phallus too. It will be an interesting ride for our lovely blonde...mare.' He winked and jumped into the gig taking up the reins.
'Walk on !' He flicked the whip leaving a red mark on Barbie's buttock and shook the reins.
The blonde lifted her legs, walking forwards.
'Beautiful, is she not.' He flicked the whip again and Barbie moved to the rising trot, her enormous breasts bouncing with every step and the bells on her nipples jingling wildly.
I thought I heard her give a suggestive, breathy gasp as she left the stableyard.
CHAPTER 28: PIERCED
I stabled Camilla, deciding not to shower her as I planned to take her out again that evening. Whatever she'd done to upset Valentina the day before, she hadn't repeated for me; in fact, she'd been the perfect pony all day.
I thus stowed her in her stall and went to see the girls being pierced.
When I entered the the 'medical room', PLT was already on her back arched over the sawhorse that had been used to restrain Shiraz and Helena; the little blonde pony's arms were still sheathed and she still wore her boots; her legs were spread wide and tied to the legs of the horse; and Goose crouched beside her holding a leash clipped to the little blonde's collar to keep the lovely pert pony in place. The lady doctor in the white coat crouched over her. I hadn't particularly noticed before given the melee around her when she done the two recalcitrant ponies but she was quite attractive and, this evening, heavily made up; though she was a brunette did not look Spanish. Her white coat hung open revealing a tight black minidress and I wondered that, given it was Friday she'd been called to do this on the point of going out; she wore stockings too, despite the heat and the skirt had ridden up to reveal their tops and her suspenders. From where she lay, PLT no doubt had a first class view of the woman's knickers, assuming she was wearing any.
I watched the doctor pull on latex gloves and wipe the blonde's nipples with alcohol, enjoying the way they swelled instantly. The doctor noticed it too and commented in accented English.
'I am thinking 'Hot Little Thing' might be a better name for her.'
Goose and I laughed and someone repeated it in Spanish although I think it lost something in the translation.
While Pretty's nipples did their thing, the doctor prepared her kit and then used a pair of surgical forceps to lift the blonde's right nipple stretching it painfully.
Pretty whimpered and started to struggle.
Goose knelt down and, showing that she was human after all, stroked the blonde's cheek.
'I give her something to distract her.' The doctor shuffled forward. 'It will make me in the mood for later.'
Pretty's upturned chin disappeared beneath the doctor's very short skirt.
A smile appeared in the doctor's face and I thought her hand shook a little. This didn't seem the best arrangement to me but I assumed the doctor know what she was doing.
Goose shifted her attention to Pretty's spread pussy, the blonde's pink glossy fingernails stroking the glistening red lips and the little blonde moaned contentedly though her tongue was clearly busy.
A loud click and a little gasp from Pretty made me realised the doctor had snapped the first of the thick steel rings into Pretty's areole; I watched as she reloaded the gun and placed it to the other side of the blonde's nipples. Pretty (and several of the other ponies present) jumped again as the second ring was sited on the inside of the blonde's breast.
The doctor gave Pretty a moment to come up for air and then moved her forceps to her patient's other nipple, repeating the process leaving the blonde with four heavy rings about three millimeters in diameter in the sensitive tissue of her areoles just to each side of her nipples.
The doctor took another alcohol wipe and poured something onto it.
'Chili oil.' She said with a faint smile. 'The first part of the conditioning process. Don Hernan likes to ensure the nipples of his ponies are kept exquisitely sensitive.'
I thought briefly of Shiraz and a couple of the younger grooms lifted their arms to cover their breasts.
Pretty quickly felt the burn and the doctor pressed her hips forward delivering her own form of pain relief.
I could smell her arousal.
The little blonde screamed as the needle entered her nipple.
'Keep your mind on the job, pony bitch !.' The doctor warned as she pushed the needle deeper into Pretty's little nub. I could see the little blonde's jaw and neck moving as she lapped desperately at her tormentor's pussy. I only hoped Goose's fingers working the little pony's pussy were an equal distraction.
It probably didn't help that PLT had rather plump nipples.
Eventually, the needle emerged from the other side by which time Pretty was panting, her skin pale and sweaty.
'Good girl.' The doctor said. 'Just one more to go.'
'Pleath.' Pretty's tongue was still working away in the doctor's pussy.
'You'll be fine.' Goose said, leaning over and using her tongue on the helpless pony's pussy.
Pretty squirmed.
The second nipple seemed easier and, by the time the doctor had threaded the little gold rings in place, Pretty's squirming and panting were definitely signs of pleasure.
The doctor was rather flushed.
'Would you like me to do her tongue too ?' She asked Goose in a breathy voice.
'Tempting.' Goose said. 'But let's leave it for now.'
'Shame.' The doctor replied. 'But if you ever wish to dispose of her, there is club in Buenos Aires that would pay good money for a willing pussy slave like this.'
She stood up revealing PLT's flushed and juice-smeared face.
'And who is the next ?'
I looked at Bryony noting she was a little pale as she stepped forward.
'I am, Mistress.' She bowed her head submissively.
The doctor looked at her; she did look fabulous; her body glowing with vitality after a day in the sun between the shafts, her hair damp with sweat, shining and glossy; naked save her pony boots and her arm sheath; and she stood there, knowing she was being appraised, on display.
A couple of grooms were freeing Pretty but all eyes were on Bryony.
'You already have piercings.' The doctor reached out and touched one, moving it in Bryony's nipple.
'These are racing piercings, Mistress.' She looked up and smiled almost shyly; the look I'd seen in some of her shoots, that humble 'girl-next-door' look; submissive, needy. 'I'm a polo pony now.' She did that lip thing; uncertainty, suppressed lust.
If there hadn't been so many people around, I'd have thrown her to the floor and fucked her then and there.
'And are you needing some distraction too ?' The doctor licked her lips, clearly as bewitched as the rest of us.
'I thought Master could provide it.' Bryony said looking at me with a saucy smile. 'It would give me something to bite down on if I needed too.'
She got a laugh even with the time lag in Spanish translation.
'In fact.' Bryony continued. 'I was hoping Master might be allowed to pierce me.'
'I don't see why not.' The doctor said. 'Is 'Master' happy with this arrangement ?'
'Very much.' I was, mostly, though wasn't entirely sure I liked the idea of Bryony's teeth pressed against my cock as I tortured her nipples.
I considered suggesting a ring gag but, if I couldn't trust my little pony who could I trust ?
'And do you have a pony name like the other English girls ?'
'I'm Sticky Fingers, Mistress.' Bryony said with a coy smile.
'Sticky Pussy would be more accurate now.' I heard a voice say. It was Rubber Dolly.
This was translated into Spanish and got a laugh too along with a few approving nods.
I added the word 'insaciable' to my growing Spanish vocabulary; apparently all the '-able' and '-ible' words are the same, you just pronounce them differently.
They tied Bryony in place of PLT on her back over the sawhorse and then the doctor invited me to kneel down.
'Unless you want to put it in her sticky place.' She said with a smirk.
'I want that big cock in my mouth.' Bryony said lasciviously. 'I want some control over the process.'
There was probably a time, no more than a year ago, when I'd have felt embarrassed getting my cock out in front of a crowd of strangers, albeit kinky strangers who were as into bondage and pony play as I was. Today, it just felt like part of the game even if the crowd was growing by the minute. My lovely fiance appeared to have quite an impact on the stables.
My cock was swollen and rigid as I released it and I saw Bryony lick her lips.
'I hope that's all for my benefit, Big Boy.' She looked up it with a gorgeously sexy flash in her eyes. 'All this playing around is fine but this slave wants to remind her master where the home comforts are.' She smirked and took me inside her mouth.
Then the doctor took me through the process of piercing my hot obedient redheaded slave.
She behaved perfectly although, I felt her tense as the chili oil was applied to her nipples, clearly penetrating her existing piercing; her teeth touched my cock briefly. Then I pushed the needle through her right nipple, inside the existing piercing ring and she sucked hard. Fortunately, the doctor steadied my hand; she helped me with the left too.
Then she was done, four piercings now in each nipple. Beautiful.
And her lips were still wrapped tightly round my cock.
'We are finished Monsieur.' The doctor said, her voice trembling.
'Yes...' I looked up suddenly remembering where I was. 'Thank you.'
'My pleasure.' The doctor pulled off her latex gloves.
'Mashger ?' Bryony was obediently holding my cock in her mouth still.
'Oh...yes.' I slid back freeing my cock, drooling all over Bryony's face as I did so.
I desperately wanted to fuck her.
The doctor slipped off her white coat and stepped out into the and the crowd began to disperse. One of the grooms helped me free Bryony, then tried to help her to her feet but she struggled dropping to her knees.
'Thank you, Master.' Her face was pale; she'd endured a lot of pain and, I suspected her nipples were still burning. There were smears of my juices on her face.
I touched her hair and she pressed her face against my crotch.
'Master ?' She said the word pleadingly.
'Yes.'
'Please fuck your horny slave.'
I threw her to the floor and took her where she lay. Nobody else seemed to care and, if the did, I didn't notice. My beautiful, submissive fiance was utterly hungry for me and thrashed beneath me as I fucked her, shrieking uncontrollably when I bit her nipples. The chili-oil was fierce and burned my tongue and when I'd finished with her, I couldn't resist licking her pussy until I'd smeared that with the burning liquid too.
Despite what she had just done to me, she came before I did and she came again when I licked her pussy.
I would have gone back to Bryony after dinner but, when I reached her stall, she and PLT were strapped to wooden frames that held them on their knees; they were side by side, facing the door of the stall pinned in place by straps across their foreheads, necks, chests and bellies; there were straps around their thighs too and calves, forcing them to kneel on their kneecaps.
Both were securely gagged with a pair of the largest ball gags I had ever seen and both were drooling incessantly.
As I looked in Bryony opened her eyes. I could see the look of pain and almost thought her lips formed the word 'please' although they were stretched so tightly it was impossible to be certain.
'Buenos sera, Senor.' Jose appeared behind me.
'Buenos sera.' I replied. 'Have they been naughty girls ?'
It seemed unlikely that they could have got into such trouble in the two hours or so since I'd seen them unless perhaps they'd been overzealously trying to comfort each other's sore nipples.
'Non, Senor.' Jose smiled. 'It is traditional after a piercing.'
He opened the stable door and Bryony's eyes darted towards him with a look of fear. Pretty opened her eyes too and showed the same expression.
Jose took a bottle from his pocket and pulled out the stopper.
Both girls began to struggle frantically; the wooden frames rocking slightly with their exertions; it was amazing how much noise they could make with such big gags.
I thought of Saher and her cries of frustration that allegedly echoed through The Hacienda.
Jose poured a little of the chili oil into his hand and then rubbed it into PLT's nipples.
The blonde went wild, screaming into her gag and bucking on the frame so violently I thought it might tip over.
Jose turned to me. 'I do this every fifteen minutes for tonight, Senor.'
He began to move towards Bryony who visibly shrunk back against the frame she was strapped to.
These were girls who allowed themselves to be kept in bondage, punished and whipped on a daily basis; I gathered the chili-oil was intensely painful.
I suppose I should have done something but I just watched as Jose tortured my fiance's exquisitely sensitive nipples enjoying her pain. She didn't scream, she simply looked up at me but I thought I saw her smile.
CHAPTER 29: ROLE PLAYING
I left the two suffering ponies and went to find Camilla.
'Senor.' Her smile was beautiful and welcoming as I entered her stall.
She was kneeling, clearly waiting for me, kneeling, head bowed.
'I thought we could go for another drive.'
'I would like that very much, Senor.'
She followed me eagerly into the yard where I harnessed her to a gig making no effort to conceal my wish to handle her freely, teasing her breasts and her nipples as I strapped on her harness and teasing her lingeringly between the legs as I fitted her restraining rein.
'If I may say, Senor.' She said huskily. 'You have learned the art of handling a pony.'
I slapped the crop onto her lovely bottom.
'Silence.'
She bowed her head but I knew she was smiling.
Then I bridled her, teasing her nipples as I did so.
'Senor...' She gasped as I lifted the bridle to her lips. 'You had better make sure you fuck your little Camilla properly tonight.'
I pulled the bit between her teeth and then used the crop again.
Then I mounted the gig, driving her towards the gate as Jose returned to Bryony and PLT's stall.
From the moment we left the stableyard, Camilla was incredibly frisky, prancing whenever we stopped and exaggerating her high trotting in a way that showed me just how perfectly fit she was. I could have used the restraining rein more but I soon realised this is what she wanted so that I was forced to use the whip on her constantly, and pull hard on her nipple reins. After about half an hour of this willful display, I was as horny as she was despite my recent coupling with Bryony and I decided it was time to stop but not before I made her gallop from across the training field from end to end until she seemed genuinely exhausted.
'Camilla asks Senor to use her fully tonight.' She said as I removed her bridle and almost threw her to the damp grass.
'Fully ?'
'Camilla has told Senor that Don Hernan would expect his ponies to be fully accommodating to his guests. Like all good ponies, Camilla can please Master in three ways...'
'Three ?'
'Do English girls not have three holes with which to be used ?' She slipped back into her sullen pout.
'Does Camilla want to feel the whip again ?'
'Camilla enjoys it when Master whips her.' She said with a smile. 'Camilla hopes she may may call Senor 'Master' like his red-headed pony.'
'That is acceptable.'
'Thank you, Master.' She said it slightly dreamily.
'And will Master spank his Camilla ?'
I rolled her over, pulling her onto my lap and brought my hand down onto her bottom.
'Oh, Senor..,Master...'
After I'd made her bottom glow she insisted on sucking my cock; she swallowed too.
Then I rolled her over and began to play with her helpless body until she begged her 'Master' to use her like the slut she was.
Then we lay back and looked up at the stars as I prepared myself for number three.
'Does Master think Camilla is a good pony ?' She turned her head towards me, apparently entirely comfortable lying on her bound arms, utterly helpless with a man she barely knew.
'I think you are a wonderful pony.'
'But you did not get to drive one of the firsts.'
I looked at her.
'No.' I shrugged. 'I had a...different experience.'
'It is much talked about in the stables, Master.' I could sense her smile. 'You are not the first man to lose yourself in the charms of Maria-Argenta.'
'It was an experience.' I felt myself starting to blush. I suppose I could have told her to be silent.
'And, if Master does not mind Camilla asking... Which does her prefer ? To be pony or player.'
'Player, of course...' I said it rather quickly.
'Is Master sure ?' She was teasing me.
'Being a pony does have some appeal.' I conceded.
'I like you, Senor.' She said slightly seriously. 'You are so...honest. You are not like Spanish men.'
''Are you suggesting Spanish men are liars ?'
'No Senor but none would admit any feeling of weakness.' She turned onto her side. 'Spanish men would never be ponies.'
'You have pony boys here.' I remembered Jaunita's pony boy from the first day.
'Sometimes stable boys need to be punished.' She said with a shrug. 'I do not think they enjoy it.'
'Really ?' I recalled the stableboys tightly strapped cock.
'Perhaps a little.' She laughed. 'But mostly, Spanish men would not admit to it.'
I rolled over and looked at her lovely dark eyes; her skin was pale in the moonlight and I could still see the marks where the straps of her bridle had been.
'Actually, I quite enjoyed it.'
She smiled. 'I knew it, Senor.' If her hands had not been bound, I'm sure she would have clapped them together. As it was she leaned over and kissed me.
'And you ?' I asked. 'Are you happy being a pony ?'
'Why would I not be ?' She was suddenly defensive.
'Valentina thinks you try to think too hard when in harness.'
She smiled.
'Really ? Senora Valentina said that ?' She seemed genuinely pleased.
'Yes. She tells me you have a lot of tactical knowledge.'
'And yet, she keeps me as a pony !'
'I thought you liked being a pony.' I stroked her cheek. 'You are a very good one.'
'I want to be a player but I am trapped in the body of a pony.' She screwed up her face in frustration. 'Because of this...' She looked down at her body, so perfect and athletic. 'They think I am not...not able to decide on plays...'
She looked up at the stars then back at me.
'What are your tactics ?' I asked.
'Seriously, Senor ?' She frowned. 'You are laying here with some helpless woman who is hot for you body and you wish to discuss tactics ?'
Actually, I did. I'm a sports coach, it gets me excited; besides, I'd cum three times this evening and my cock wasn't quite ready to do it again even for anal.
I slid my hand between her legs.
'Humour me.'
She smiled. 'Si, Senor.'
And she did; her ideas were good too, some of her training suggestions were better than Valentina's current approach and some of the plays she talked about sounded as if they would work.
She disliked the idea of pairing a pony and player together.
'We are not always hot and horny for a single girl.' She said.
Her player, Anita had bullied her mercilessly although she had to admit, she had benefitted from the intense training. Eventually, Anita had eventually left the stable.
'She was a good player but hated to be a pony. I think it was a waste. Other stables in The Club allow a girl to be pony or player.'
It was not the first time I've talked tactics in bed with an athlete but, aside from Mares race stuff with Bryony it was probably, the first time she'd been a hot, horny pony girl.
She enjoyed it too, particularly as I kept my fingers in her pussy.
Then I rolled her over and slid my cock into her anal sphincter, bringing her to orgasm with my fingers.
When I came into the yard I found Bryony and PLT looking slightly uncomfortable in the leathers of player. It was New Year's eve but for us, it was another day in pony heaven.
Mostly.
'Our nipples are way too tender for us to be ponies today.' PLT told me with authority.
So we're being players today.
I hoped Bryony and PLT were up to it.
Goose looked at me expectantly. 'Well ?'
'Well what ?' I asked, confused.
'There's a lot of role reversal going on.' She smiled thinly. 'So, if you want to play pony, I'm happy to oblige.'
'No.' I said firmly.
'Coward !' Goose unbuttoned her blouse giving me a front row seat to her lovely jugs. 'What ?' She said. 'The numbers will be uneven and the others have left for the match.'
I watched her slide out of her boots and breeches and then stand with her hands behind her back as Jacintha laced her arms into a sheath.
She smiled at me.
'I suppose it is my turn.' She said.
'Your turn ?'
'I thought I heard you played pony with the firsts.' She grinned as Jacintha lifted a harness over her shoulders and pulled the chest strap up under her breasts.
'I did.' I said. 'But so...'
Then it hit me. She hadn't played pony at all. She'd been a player.
Goose tried to suppress her laughter.
'I'm happy to swap places if you'd like to explore your submissive side a little further, PonyBoy.'
To my relief, Jacintha pulled a hood over Goose's head so she couldn't see me blush.
'Sorry, Senor, we are short today.' Jacintha said. 'You can have one of the other ponies if your prefer but the first team and most of the seconds have gone to Buenos Aires for the game.'
We were playing Las Diablas in the first game of the ponygirl polo club's league. It was expected to be an exciting match.
'No.' I smiled at Jacintha. 'I'm happy to drive the Loose Goose here. If she misbehaves, I'll have her nipples pierced.'
'Just you fucking try !' The Goose said from behind her hood.
'I think you mean 'Just you fucking try, Sir'.' I corrected.
The Goose said nothing.
'I'll finish harnessing her.' I told Jacintha.
'Thank you, Senor.' Jacintha passed me the bridle.
'I want to make sure everything is good and tight.' I said for the benefit of the Goose but she didn't respond.
I pulled the bridle over her head and she opened her mouth to accept the bit; then I strapped it in place.
There is something delicious in bridling a woman, in pulling the straps tight and seating the bit in her mouth; if I'm honest, I prefer to do it without the hood, I like to see a girl's face and her eyes peering out from behind the straps. However, beggars can't be choosers and while the Goose might not be the prettiest woman on the planet, she did have a fabulous body; if she'd wanted it, she had the frame a pretty good amateur athlete: long legs and broad shoulders; her big tits might have been a problem.
Hooded and harnessed, she looked like a pony girl from a wet dream, shoulders back, big breasts thrust out, slim waist and a pretty fine bottom; and those legs went all the way up. Though she worked out, she didn't have the muscle definition of many regular ponies and, as I'd thought with Saher, a bit of flesh is a good thing on a woman; I love the way it dimples around the tight straps of a harness.
I couldn't resist cupping her lovely bit breasts and playing with her nipples.
'Shay another word about piershing my nips and I will gill you.' She said pointedly.
I pinched them.
'Getting a little familiar with the ponies ?' A familiar voice said behind me.
I turned to see Bryony looking surprisingly dominant in her leathers driving her gig towards me. Her hooded pony had a tattoo of the seconds and I was pretty sure it was Carmen. The second's captain had fallen a long way from grace to be left with the potras and to be given to a relative novice but thinking about the ethos of the stables, it didn't surprise me and, if I knew the nature of pony girls, she would be pulling out all the stops to prove herself again.
Bryony adjusted the tight leather bolero jacket and winced. 'Fuck, my nipples are sore.'
We trotted our rag-tag line of ponies down to the training field, Bryony and PLT thoroughly enjoying the thrill of having their own ponies; PLT was driving Shiraz. Reuben was still with us, driving on of the potras; Rubber Dolly had already left for Buenos Aires with the team and, more importantly, with Juanita. Reuben really didn't seem to mind any of this and had only smiled when the lovely brunette had been lead onto the team bus by the stablemistress wearing nothing but toe boots and a ball gag. Rubber Dolly was in for a hell of a weekend.
Despite the rather scratch nature of our group, we had a lot of fun and finished the morning with a match. Squaring up against Bryony was good; she's so competitive and there was no hint of submission in the way she drove her pony against me and fought for the ball. It was rather exciting to see her dominant side. She mostly won too; Carmen might be a fallen idol but she was a fit little bit.
PLT was pretty competitive too but lacked Bryony's skill with the whip; my sexy redhead's years playing pony with Cassie had definitely given her a useful if rather kinky skill set.
as for me, I rather enjoyed driving the Goose. As I'd predicted, she wasn't a bad pony and was surprisingly responsive under the whip. She was a little slower than I was used to but she had stamina and, in the hustler position, her added size gave her a distinct advantage.
By the time she galloped into the stableyard, coming in some way behind Bryony and PLT with their prime pony flesh, she was lathered with sweat and glowing with heat, I got the impression she was pretty fired up by her morning work out. It did nothing to help me forget the excitement I'd enjoyed being Maria-Argenta's pony and while kept trying to tell myself it was because the haughty dominant was so beautiful, I knew it went a little deeper than that and there was a part of me that regretted not taking up Goose's offer to play pony again.
'Good girl.' I patted Goose on the bottom.
The Goose I knew would normally have 'bridled' at such treatment but this harnessed, bridled and hooded Goose simply nodded slightly and stood docily like a good little pony with her chest thrust out and her legs slightly apart, rocking gently to maintain her balance on the pony boots. Her nipples were stiffly erect, the areoles red and swollen with what was clearly three hours of fairly intense sexual arousal. She smelt of sex and I couldn't resist sliding a hand between her legs.
Goose moaned loudly.
'Get a stall you two !' Bryony appeared again, her face flushed with excitement. She was still in her gig, apparently unwilling to yield the hot ponygirl over which she had enjoyed full domination for the morning. She stopped beside me and leant down, lowering her voice. 'But when you're finished, I'm going to seen a serious fucking. You can't imagine how horny I am right now.' She grinned, adding a smirk... 'If that's alright with you, Master.'
CHAPTER 30: LAS DIABLAS
The team bus took us from the hotel through streets thronging with New Year revelers to the stadium where we spilled out onto the 'blue' carpet. Don Hernan lead the way waving to the adoring crowds and posing for photographers. He was followed by his squad; firsts and seconds; the players exquisite, swaggering in their tight blue leathers, breasts thrust out, bottoms swinging; knocking away groping hands as they signed autographs while the ponies posed and sparkled tossing manes of glossy brown hair as they pranced behind their players enduring hands that petted and caressed them, sometimes intimately. There were no chastity belts worn this evening although, of course several grooms and trainers from the firsts' stable were present to keep a watchful eye on their charges, all dressed in their uniforms of blue jackets, tight white jodhpurs and shiny stable boots and all carrying their whips.
We followed them, dressed as Don Hernan had requested, the representatives of the 'Mares Lancers'. I felt like a toy soldier in the military style pelisse and jacket with its gold braiding and lines of buttons but Don Hernan's reassurance that a degree of showmanship was needed and the look in Bryony's eyes when she'd first seen me in it made me feel more comfortable. A fair amount of attention may have been on Goose too; she wore a similar costume, though with a very different cut; her jacket was stretched very tightly across her impressive breasts and I doubt I'd have been able to walk in trousers like hers they were so tight. We both wore cavalry boots and, at Don Hernan's insistence carried shakos. We had two of our ponies with us; Bryony and Pretty Little Thing who wore field style dress harnesses in white leather, complete with plumes and tails. The tails particularly, along with PLT's blonde hair attracted a lot of attention. Bryony's red mane caused excitement too, it had been washed and combed and shone in the glitzy lights; hands reached to touch it or to tweak her long red tail.
Needless to say, we lead the 'mares' by their newly pierced nipples and, given the newness of the piercings I can report that both girls were utterly obedient.
Barbie was with us too, not leashed but, I knew, tightly restrained in her traditional harness under the large blue cloak she wore; Charles graciously accompanying her so she had no need to use her hands.
StableMistress Mendez-Garcia brought up the rear, she had her own pony or, rather, pet this evening: Rubber Dolly and she'd clearly taken great pains to further humiliate and abuse her favourite whipping girl. The alluring brunette crawled beside the stablemistress on all fours and on a choke-leash; she was strapped into a rubber bitchsuit that fixed her forearms to her upper arms and calves to thighs making her crawl on her elbows and knees at her mistress' heal. The rubber restraining her limbs was thick and heavy duty but that on her body and head was thin and shiny, partly translucent on her skin; over her nipples and around her sex, it was cut away entirely and bells jingled on her nipples as she moved. She wore a tail, of course, which mostly concealed the huge phallus protruding from her sex, held in place by a her labial piercings; the StableMistress had also clipped rubber tapes from her big toes to her clit ring so this was stretched each time she moved. Needless to say, the poor mare was muzzled, a huge swathe of rubber buckled tightly across her face which I knew held a plug in her mouth that was almost as large as the one in her pussy.
The rest of our little group from Mares-de-Launce were absent: Reuben, at the last minute, had chosen not to accompany us preferring to spend more or less twenty four hours in the Hacienda where, I understood, he planned to use one of the playrooms to flagellate the lovely Carmen. Whipped Cream and The-Cat were, of course, with the squad.
After a team photo, with Don Hernan at the centre standing next to a disrobed Barbie in the traditional harness, the firsts rapidly disappeared, Jacintha taking both Barbie and her doted pet, leaving us with the guests and the seconds. Maria-Argenta was there but, despite my rather outlandish outfit, appeared not to notice me or perhaps decided to ignore me; something with which I was entirely happy. Don Carlos was there too and soon approached Goose who took his arm and disappeared leaving me in charge of both the Mares 'mares'.
As I've said before, a man's life can be hard.
I took both sets of reins and mingled with the crowd.
There were a lot of questions about 'the English Team' and I was pleased that Charles was on hand to help me answer them; 'no, PonyGirl polo is not a big sport in the UK', 'we are mostly a racing team', 'we use the term 'mares' rather than ponies, 'yes, our girls to like to wear tails'...
The questions were interrupted by cheers from outside.
Las Diablas' had arrived.
Las Diablas, 'The Reds' were our opposition for this, the first match of the season; a team, aptly, from Terra del Fuego. They were clearly out to upstage 'The Blues' and I heard the pounding of South American synth pop as we all moved towards the doors to catch a first glimpse of them as they stepped off their team bus.
They put on quite a show; ponies covered from head to foot in red bodypaint restrained in chain harnesses; the ponies had multiple piercings, eyebrows, lips, noses; and each wore a little pointed silver cone on each nipple; they wore red tails with arrowhead points at the tips. The players were pierced too and wore were essentially chain mail bikinis; as far as I could tell they'd all had their breasts surgically enlarged, some to a size that nearly rivaled Barbie; though they didn't wear bodypaint, each girl's hair was long and thick and dyed flame red; it was like being invaded by a legion of Red Sonjas. They had a mascot too; their 'virgin', apparently; a pale brunette in what looked like a long flowing chiffon robe that flowed around her, multiple layers swirling about her body as she walked and, even where it covered her, hid none of her charms. She was lead along by a steel collar locked around her neck.
The Reds received almost as much of a welcome as The Blues who were considered the 'home' side.
They came with a stablemistress too who appeared just as formidable as Junainta. The Reds' stablemistress looked more northern European; pale skinned and freckled and, I thought, her hair was naturally red even though it was falsely coloured. She was dressed in black leather, a doublet, breeches, boots and, like Juanita drew along a pet, leashed and restrained behind her. In her case, it was a ponyboy or devil boy or something of the sort; sprayed with the same red bodypaint as the ponies so that he looked a little like Hellboy though, needless to say he was in tight bondage; wrists chained behind him in the small of his back, held there by a chain to his collar; he was dressed in a solid-looking body harness a little like the one I'd worn when I'd played pony (including the cock straps); he was bridled too, more heavy duty leather that gagged and blindfolded him; like the red ponies, he had pierced nipples, steel bullets that jutted out but were also ringed so he could be lead around by them.
I quickly realised there was some sort of 'mistress' rivalry going on here from the way the two stablemistresses postured then passed with a nod, their familiars following obediently behind them on their leashes.
It was the first time I'd seen Don Hernan look in any way nervous but, this evening there was a tension in his face and, I noticed, he didn't drink with his usual appetite. Despite this, he networked his way across the room warmly greeting his guests who I guessed were sponsors as well as friends and, probably, included a smattering of crime lords too. I met and was introduced to a number of them, Bryony and PLT standing behind me bridled and deliciously servile giving me considerable kudos among the guests.
As usual, I suspected Bryony was happy at being restrained and bridled meaning she had to be nothing but play eye-candy; given the choice, I suspected she'd have liked to be hooded too but then, there were a number of distractions which I'd have hated her to miss. I think that having PLT at her side was good for her, she little blonde showed no scruples and strutted about on her leash clearing enjoying the attention her pert little body and big breasts were attracting.
Having Bryony beside and behind me, her familiar scent and the press of her body reminded me, a little painfully, of how she hadn't been there much for the last two weeks and what I'd enjoyed in her absence. I felt a hint of regret but, as she pressed herself lasciviously against my back and rubbed her thigh against mine but when she began to nibble my ear around her bridle I was reminded of her intense submission and lust when we had last been together.
I looked forward to 'owning' her again, smiling at the pleasure that thought gave me.
In the thirty minutes preceding the match, Don Hernan's tension rose further and, in fact, all in the room began to feel an expectation. Outside, the excitement of the crowd was building; waves of cheering, hooters, whistling and bursts of song found their way into the reception room until we all felt could not stand it no longer.
Don Hernan lead us out; his box was half way up the stand and almost the entire width of the reception room we'd been standing it.
The crowd roared.
There's nothing like the atmosphere of a live sporting event.
I'd been told the stadium seated twenty thousand and had been bought from a football club that had moved to bigger premisses.
I hadn't expected it to be full.
Undaunted, Don Hernan simply smiled and, in a few moments, controlled them utterly, lifting his hands to create a silence that swept across the fans and for a brief second was complete before the sounds of the city, the roar of traffic and the screech of sirens and horns invaded it.
Twenty thousand people looked up at us in expectation.
Many wore their team colours the blue of Caballeras and the red of the Diablas; some in shirts, some in riding style jackets despite the heat; there must have been a few hundred women in harness, many otherwise naked, a number bridled; more than a few that I could see with nipples that were pierced like their heroines.
Then the blues emerged; the first team of Caballeras Azuls, lead by Maria-Argenta or rather lead by Barbie; resplendent in her old fashioned blue harness and pulling the traditional gig I'd seen back at the Hacienda; Maria-Argenta once again dressed in her tight blue leathers whipping the blonde as she high trotted, thighs lifting like pistons almost mechanical in her movements they were so precise, the blonde hair of her ponytail and her pony tail dancing wildly; her skin had been oiled and it shone in the sunlight a glowing gold background to the glints from the polished buckles of her harness. I remembered the construction of the gig's single shaft, I'd seen it too now, the six inch broad phallus that protruded from it and was currently buried in Barbie's pussy, pumping her mercilessly as she performed for the crowd.
Barbie liked to be the centre of attention, the perfect sex doll.
And now she was.
The crowd loved her, whistling and cheering her arrival, clapping to the time of the Bolero that beat out from the speakers around the stadium; then roaring again and climbing to their feet at the arrival of the firsts, cantering out behind her, fanning across the pitch, athletes at the peak of their abilities, tight bodies harnessed and bridled and, of course, restrained and hooded. Like Barbie, they seemed almost machine-like, legs and torsos, mechanical toys perfectly designed for the role they were about to play. I spotted Masie, blonde among the dark haired players and her two friends who had tormented me when I'd played ponyboy in their stable.
The memory made my cock twitch excitedly.
Bryony was definitely going to get the shag she craved later (although, of course, the firsts were no longer in chastity). If Goose didn't come back I might have to entertain PLT too.
I watched them circle the field noticing the slight sway in Barbie's gait as Maria-Argenta began to drive her round for the second time.
Then, as the cheering began to fade, Las Diablas entered.
The roar of the crowd was almost as deafening as it had been for the blues.
The music was louder, more synth-pop.
They were lead on, if that is the word, by 'The Virgin'. It was a tradition; a new girl to the squad, dressed in flowing white, her wrists tied to a yoke that was lashed to her shoulders; apparently a previous harness design in the old days of ponygirl polo. She was pursued by the red stablemistress with her pony boy in harness flanked by the squad; the redskinned ponies with their red haired 'barbarian' players. The players all carried long bullwhips rather than the short driving whips that were usually used on ponies; and the sun glinted off barbs woven into the leather. However, these whips were not for the ponies but for the Virgin; they chased her, running her down, each player coming alongside as her pony cantered ahead and raking the fleeing girl with her whip, tearing at the white dress that fluttered behind her as she ran, ripping away strips of gauze and silk, denuding her; raking her body too so that soon her blood marked the white material as it was torn free and oozed from gashes across her body and down her legs.
Finally, the Virgin was naked, staggering under the weight of the yoke, blood running down her skin across her breasts and belly, her back and buttocks; running down her legs too.
Then, the red stablemistress fell upon her, sweeping her up as I had seen the caballeros do during the hunt the previous weekend, tossing the woman across her shoulder and galloping her pony boy off the field in triumph.
The crowd roared its approval but, I think, a few of us in the box were rather stunned by the brutality of the display.
'She will be fine.' Don Hernan reassured Charles with a brief smile. 'It is a...rite of passage.'
Charles looked at me; he was rather pale and, no doubt, relieved that Barbie was not enduing quite such a brutal right of passage.
CHAPTER 31: THE BUENOS AIRES PONY GIRL POLO CLUB
The match was fast and furious; way more exciting than the game the seconds had played against the Jaguars although that had been thrilling. The Caballeras firsts were incredible skillful, they won most of the drops in the first three chukkas and their passing and manouvering were almost flawless.
From the eerie silence that once again descended on the first drop, they outperformed their opponents. Las Diablas might have been out-classed but they made up for it in grim determination and brutal play thinking nothing of repeatedly colliding with their opposite numbers: ponies, gigs, riders... They used their whips too, indiscriminately, their players being punished ruthlessly by the referee but showing no remorse as they breasts were repeated lashed and, on occasion they were confined to the sin bin for foul play.
I could see tension in Maria-Argenta's body as she trotted Barbie up and down the touchline following the action and I saw her scowling at the Red's coach; her gestures in the breaks as she talked to her team left little doubt as to what she thought about the opposition's tactics. I have to confess that I was so focused on her that I barely noticed Don Hernan's cheerleaders strutting their stuff in their blue collar and boots and shaking their tailed booties but, in my defense, I was distracted by a dozen nubile Spanish athletes, half of them in bondage, Maria-Argenta with Barbie in harness rocking on her boots and about to cum her load in front of twenty thousand poeple and StableMistress Juanita with a leashed Rubber Dolly at her feet; and that's just from our team...
The violent onslaught of the Reds worked to some degree at first leaving the blues only one goal ahead at the half way stage but, slowly their skill began to tell as much in evading the deliberate fouls as working the ball up the field. They won all the drops in the second three chukkas, their fastest pony, streaking up the field and her player, Masie, gathering the ball among a crescendo of noise and turning before the Diablas centre attack could reach it.
Five ponies were stretchered off in the course of the game, three reds, one after colliding at full gallop with the blue's hustler's gig for no apparent reason than the psych their opponents out; it didn't work. All in all, there were six broken bones and three of the blues' player and two ponies needed stitches for whip injuries.
The crowd loved it.
Despite all the dirty play, the blues won comfortably, ten goals to five and Barbie lead multiple laps of honour until I thought she might collapse from exhaustion.
We partied late into the night, the firsts even joining us briefly; at least those who were still standing; although, again, back in chastity before being whisked away back to the Hacienda for a debrief and a relatively early night.
It was, after all, New Year's Eve.
Bryony still looked gorgeous in her 'Lancers' harness and, typically, made no suggestion that I free her though she had made a comment about ripping my uniform off with her teeth when we went to bed.
At one point, I ran into Barbie, still in her 'mascot' costume although Charles had removed her hood and bridle and was leading her round by her nipple rings. She looked tired but her eyes were shining with excitement.
'I can't believe I did it.' She said to us. 'In front of all those people.'
'You looked good.' I reassured her.
'I always look good you cheeky bastard !' She responded. 'I just can't believe I had a multiple orgasm in the process.'
Bryony laughed behind her bit as Charles lead the huge breasted blonde away.
'Have you ever...?' I asked.
Bryony blushed.
'When ?'
Bryony grinned and shook her head. She clearly wasn't going to tell me and I wondered if this was something else she got up to when I left her with Goose and PLT; speaking of which; I had briefly seen the Goose and Don Carlos during the match but they had been at the other end of the box. It looked like I was going to have to bite the bullet and take both Bryony and PLT to bed.
But not yet...
Don Hernan's Caballeras Azuls might have gone for an early night but Las Diablas apparently had no such curfew and joined the celebrations to the full. They were, you won't be surprised to learn, a pretty wild bunch of lasses, drinking and doing whatever the female equivalent of 'wenching' is. It appeared no man in the room was safe and, along with pretty much everyone else in the room, I found myself leered over, propositioned and groped until my cream jacket and particularly the seat of my trousers were smeared with red body paint; one of them even force me into a full on snog leaving red stains all down the front of outfit; and this was just the ponies... These red ponies did not seem in any way submissive and, in terms of sexual appetite, all the devils seemed virily heterosexual; I vaguely recalled a twentieth century term 'ladette' which seems appropriate to describe them.
I have a number of memories of that night, aside from the general euphoria of the Blues victory and the thrill of a New Year's eve firework display viewed from the stadium. Foremost in my mind are two lines of Red Sonjas and their devilish ponies enjoying the beer drinking 'boat race' game as each girl downed three tequilas and slipping out into the viewing box with Bryony and PLT around two in the morning to find the devil/ponyboy mascot strapped on his back over a table with two of the red players riding him; one, the 'Virgin' I think, using his cock and the other a penis gag in his mouth; a number of others crowded round, clearly waiting their turn.
I decided it was time to take Bryony to bed and was just girding my loins to do my duty with PLT when Don Carlos' wife appeared and asked to 'borrow' the little blonde. Pretty looked a little surprised but followed her obediently as the aristocratic donna lead her out of the party.
Bryony grinned at me. 'You'll haf do make do wissh me.' She said with a wink then turned and walked after PLT trailing me on her leash.
There are times when a man knows not to be dominant.
In my hotel room, I pointed to a spot by the bed and my obedient slave dropped to her knees, spreading her legs and pushing her breasts out. She looked the perfect submissive sex toy; ornamented for her master's pleasure: plumes and piercings, her tail, her bit and boots, harnessed and helpless in bondage; my perfect little pony.
I crouched before her; I was still fascinated by the new piercing rings and loved the little chain that ran between her little mounds; I played with it gently.
Bryony lifted her head and looked at me. She was clearly tired but her eyes shone with lust.
'Pleash be careful wisth my nibblesh, Mashter.' She said, her voice trembling with excitement. 'They're shtill really, shore.'
They must have been swollen to twice their usual size and were dark with bruising.
'Do you really want to keep all of them ?' I asked pulling gently on the chain between her breasts and bending to kiss her poor little bruised buds.
I guess it wasn't very masterful but I was excited to have her alone and seeing her like this reminded me how much I loved her.
'Shlave will have to do whad Mashter commands.' She looked down submissively.
I lifted her chin and kissed her. She responded eagerly, pushing her tongue past the leather covered metal rod in her mouth.
There is something utterly delicious about kissing a ponygirl with a bit in her mouth.
'Ushe your shlave, Mashter.' She begged.
I pushed her back and she spread her legs eagerly as I struggled to free my stiff cock from the tight trousers then I pushed it inside her, engulfed by pleasure as the slick warmth of her sex swallowed me.
We came together, almost immediately and then I lay on top of her listening to her breathing, deep and gasping in time with mine.
'Come on.' I said as the heat of the climax slipped away. 'Let's go to bed.'
'Yesh, Mashter.' She wriggled as I climbed off her trying to sit up.
I scooped her up and dropped her on the bed then struggled out of my uniform. She lay on her side watching me.
I climbed into bed beside and undid her bit.
'Thank you, Master.' She licked her lips.
I kissed her gently, feeling my cock respond almost immediately to this vibrant eager sexually charged animal subjugated in bondage; I was ready to use her again despite our recent coupling.
'I'm glad Sir still desires his slave with so much to distract him.' She said snuggled herself against me.
'Master is very fond of his little slavegirl.' I kissed her again. 'But perhaps she is the one who has been distracted.'
She looked up at me, all big blue eyes gazing at me over the strap of her bridle. 'A slavegirl is there to be used, Master. She is expected to perform her duties lest she be punished.'
'I hear you've been more willing than most to perform your duties.' I said with a smile.
'Yes, Sir.' She blushed. 'I've enjoyed it too.' She paused. 'You know Pretty plans to stay.'
'Yes, Goose told me.' I looked at her. 'And you ?'
She shrugged. 'I love being here. I love being a pony. If I was Pretty's age, I'd probably want to stay too but I'm twenty eight and, even if I stayed, I'd only make the seconds.'
'Is that the only reason ?' I felt suddenly very insecure.
'No, Master.' She looked up at me, perfect in submission. 'Unless Master is about to tell his slave that he wants to stay.' She grinned, that impish charm insinuating itself into the demure slavegirl. 'Though, if I may say, Master, there is a rumour going around the stables that the Englishman has a submissive side and rather enjoyed playing ponyboy.'
'Maria-Argenta gave me a lesson on the day she took me up to train with the firsts.' I tried to make it sound casual but the memory still made me tremble with excitement and I felt myself blushing.
'If the divine Maria-Argenta has taken a shine to you, Master, you might not have much of choice about whether you stay.'
'Meaning ?'
'You know there are ponies here who have no choice in the matter ?' She said, suddenly earnest. 'That there is a girl in the firsts who was given to Don Hernan when her father couldn't pay back the money he owed ?'
I nodded. I'd heard something about this.
'And some are here as 'hostages' to ensure their families toe the line.'
I nodded. I'd heard that too.
'Don Hernan is a man who gets what he wants.' She looked suddenly serious. 'And his sister is the same. Unless, of course, she's already ensnared you with her charms.'
There was a degree of challenge in her voice.
'Maria-Argenta is a very beautiful woman.' I told her. 'But there's someone I prefer.'
'I should think so too !' She said firmly and then hit me with a smile that was a mix of relief and true happiness even as her eyes moistened. 'After all, we are supposed to be getting married in less than a month.'
'You're still ok with that ?' I looked into her blue eyes knowing I was way more than ok with that even though it seemed such a distant almost abstract concept here.
'Of course I'm ok with that.' She said with a grin. 'What girl wouldn't want to promise to honour and obey her master forever ?'
I kissed her gently on the lips.
'And, if slave may be so bold, she would like to say that if Master did exhibit some submissive tendencies from time to time, it would be her duty to accommmodate them.'
'That was just a bit of fun.' I told her.
'Yes, Master.' She said with more than a hint of skepticism.
'You !' I grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back. 'Are a very naughty slave.'
'Does that mean you are going to punish me ?' She squirmed deliciously.
I slapped her bottom and told her to fetch my whip.
CHAPTER 32: FINAL FANTASY
I did meet the lovely Maria-Argenta once more. Well, sort of.
I woke with a start to find her standing over me in the bedroom dressed in the white gown she's worn at the barbecue; or perhaps it was the costume the Diablas virgin had worn, the flimsy material clinging to her lovely body, her brown nipples clearly visible through the thin silk.
'Come along, PonyBoy.' She said with a beckoning finger and a smile.
I slid out of bed dropping to all fours and she clipped a leash to my collar.
'Good boy.' She said leading me towards the door.
I followed obediently on all fours struggling to keep up and drooling at the sight of her lovely tapered calves and five inch patent leather heels.
The corridor outside the room was crowded, full of partygoers still celebrating the new year; the ponies and players, Goose and Rubber Dolly were there too.
'What a cute pony a voice said.' It was Camilla.
'He should be bridled.' Said Helga and she pulled a bridle over my head, pushing the bit into my mouth and strapping it in place, a mask followed, like a horses head pushed over mine, effectively blinkering me so all I could see were Maria-Argenta's gorgeous legs in front of me and the swish of the white silk gown as it flowed tantalisingly across her calves.
'This is too easy for him.' A voice said. It was Jacintha. I felt her hand grab my balls and then something close around them, locking into place. Then she put cuffs on my ankles that were chained to the strap round my balls so that I couldn't put my toes on the ground and when I moved my legs there was a tug on my cock and balls.
'He'll need these if he's going to be a pony boy.' Shiraz, squatting naked in front of me, pulled mitts onto my hands that looked like hooves. Helena, also naked, locked them in place with a chain between them so I had to move my hands faster in smaller 'steps' as I crawled.
'He definitely needs one of these.' Goose stood in front of me holding a tail. She was naked too, her breasts and belly bound with rope, Don Carlos stood beside her holding a rope leash that was tied around her neck. She bent forward, legs spread, straddling my head, pressing her pussy against my face as she leaned over me and pushed the tail through my sphincter before locking it in place.
I looked up to see Maria-Argenta some way ahead of me, the leash trailing from her wrist; there was tug of it on my collar and I tried to catch her up crawling now with tiny movements of my hands and balancing on my knees; every movement pulling on the tightly strapped balls, the tail swishing behind me.
'Come on PonyBoy.' Rubber Dolly struck my bottom with a whip. 'We all know your dirty secret now.'
There was general laughter and all those lining the corridor encouraged me with their whips too slapping my bottom and the soles of my bare feet.
I crawled faster trying to catch Maria Argenta and eventually she lead me into the safety of another room, the crowds melting away.
I knelt back and realised this wasn't 'safety' at all. We were in one of The Hacienda's 'playrooms'; like the one I'd seen it was equipped as a fully working torture chamber. I wasn't the only victim either; a steel cage hung from the ceiling, turning slowly on a single chain. There was a woman inside, blonde; the cage was tight on her body, fashioned almost to fit her perfectly except that her huge breasts were squeezed through the bars, dusky and swollen from the tightness of the steel that ringed their bases; each breasts was decorated with needles and the nipples were now fitted with triple pony piercings, though these were much bigger than the usual ones. Both nipples were also squeezed between a thin pair of metal bars that passed between the rings and were clamped together punishingly tight. Looking up, I could see Barbie's face pressed tightly against the bars, blue eyes wide with mix of fear and pain and lust, jaw stretched wide around a thick bar that served as a gag and made her drool constantly so that her chin and breasts shone with her saliva and it dripped from her nipples tinted red from the blood that oozed from the wounds where the needles pierced her breasts, the red liquid running down her body. The statuesque blonde still wore the blue laquered corset which seemed even tighter now, turning her waist into a tiny thing that, if my hands had been free, they could have easily encircled. As she turned I could see her buttocks, sticking through the bars of the cage, a vertical bar forced deep between them; the skin was blistered and red from abuse and there was clearly a huge rectal plug inside her that, along with the bars of her cage appeared to support much of her weight. Her long legs tapered down within the cage to end in play hooves; no, I realsied, real hooves that were where her toes should have been; even though she couldn't move, there was leather cuffs hobbling her ankles. Most shocking of all was her arms, or what remained of them; they had been amputated at the elbow leaving her two flippers that were drawn behind her back, cuffs over the stumps that were linked by a single loop of chain.
'My brother is converting her into the perfect mascot.' Maria-Argenta told me. 'I think she will be a real crowd-pleaser.' She ran a finger gently down the helpless blonde's thigh and I saw Barbie's eyes flick towards her. 'It may seem a little extreme but as my darling pet Juanita always says, ponies should forget how to use their arms. For Barbie here that won't be a problem.' She reached up and pulled on the link joining the two stumps of her arms. 'Of course, it is important to leave something behind or she would not be able to enjoy the pleasure of bondage; and I can assure you, she will be kept in it constantly; it also helps to display those superb titties don't you think ?' She used the chain link to pull Barbie round. 'They'll be even more impressive when we've had them enlarged.'
I thought a tear slid down Barbie's cheek and felt I should do something but what could I do ? Seeing Barbie like this had made my stiff cock completely rigid with excitement; my body was quivering with pleasure.
'Don't be sad.' Marie-Argenta looked up at her victim. 'It will be a life of exquisite pleasure as well as pain and you will be the perfect sex toy you have always dreamed of becoming.'
There was a box hanging from the front of Barbie's cage, some sort of electrical control with wires that looped down from it and then ran up between Barbie's legs. Marie-Argenta picked it up and pressed one of the buttons. Barbie's eyes widened and a gasp escaped her gagged mouth, saliva gushing out between her lips and the bar wedged between her teeth; Maria-Argenta held the button down and Barbie's eyes wide as saucers glazed over as he body began to gyrate, legs moving as much as the cage allowed them, thighs rubbing together; she gave another gasp.
'She will be kept like this constantly.' Maria-Argenta said with her finger still on the button. 'The box is mostly designed to give pleasure though it can be used to deliver excruciating pain.' She pressed a second button and Barbie screamed into her gag. 'Though, of course, pain is not the only way to deliver torture; your friend will endure remorseless sexual teasing, permitted only to cum when I choose. She will be the perfect mascot; a living sex doll; squirming, drooling, constantly horny, radiating unbridled lust; to be lusted after, desired but always out of reach just like the orgasm, her body so desperately craves.'
Maria-Argenta smiled cruelly.
'And now, you will become my human pony boy.'
Maria-Argenta had changed into a riding outfit; white blouse, tight jodhpurs, shiny boots; when she moved spurs clicked on the floor. She was holding a saddle and I dropped back onto all fours so she could lower it onto my back. She tightened the girth round my belly then she mounted me, taking hold of my reins and tucking her feet into stirrups that hung be my side.
'Come along, PonyBoy.' She said. 'Let's see what you can do.'
I started to crawl forward unsteadily, weighed down by her, barely able to move because of the cuffs on my wrists and the way my ankles were chained to my balls.
'This will never do.' She struck me with the whip.
I tried harder but I was too tightly chained.
'Well, if you won't be a good boy.' She dug her spurs into my side, raking them down my thighs.
I went wild, bucking and trying to throw her off.
'Oh good boy.' She squeezed her thighs around me. 'Oh, yes !'
I arched my back and tossed my head, turning left and right as the whip fell and her spurs ripped again at my flesh.
'Oh yes.' Her voice carried the unmistakeable sound of arousal and the more I continued to buck and twist, the more aroused she became and the more pain she inflicted with her whip and spurs.
Helpless and tormented I bucked and twisted in my bonds and she clung to my back with her thighs until her cries were a string of sexually driven moans.
'Oh yes, yes, yes, yes...'
I felt her climax as much as I heard it, her thighs clamping onto me.
'Oh good boy.' She voice was husky, shaky.
I knelt between her legs gasping for breath, hot, sweaty and intensely aroused, my cock straining for release, drooling freely.
She climbed off me unsteadily, her hair tousled and her face dusty like it had been that day she used me as a her pony with the firsts.
'You want to fuck me, don't you, Pony boy ?' She had that cruel teasing smile on her face.
I nodded. What could I do; I could hardly lie to my mistress.
She began to unbutton her blouse, revealing her lovely firm breasts and her dark nipples, swollen with arousal.
I watched with mounting pleasure, my cock drooling, the pain of her abuse fading, replaced by lust.
Then she used her boot to push me onto my side.
'Roll over.' She said. 'PonyBoy.'
I lay on my back, my cock rigid in the air watching as she pulled off her boots and then her jodhpurs before standing above me gloriously naked holding her riding crop.
'So, PonyBoy, do you want to put that dirty little thing inside me ?' She flicked my cock with her whip.
I nodded.
She smiled and began to squat down.
I reached down with my hands, fumbling with my stiff cock because of the play hooves on my hands.
I saw her smile before I felt the warm stream on my body but there was nothing I could do; nothing I wanted to do as the golden shower splashed across me; it seemed to run everywhere, across my chest and my legs, splashing into my mouth around the bit between my teeth.
'Remember your place, PonyBoy.' She laughed and I came, my useless hands bashing urgently at my cock which spurted up at her, my cum mingling with her piss as it sprayed across my body.
I woke covered in sweat and lying in a sticky mess, my body tangled in the sheets.
It took me a moment to realise it was a dream, a very wet dream.
Confused and, suddenly embarrassed I sat up fumbling for the lightswitch and, when I found it, peered round the foot of the bed. Bryony was still sound asleep, lying on her side, bridled and chained in place by her nipples; her arms sheathed behind her back and ankles hobbled.
I lay back, guiltily, running my fingers through the sticky cum and thinking about Maria-Argenta.
I was incredibly horny.
I climbed out of bed and lay down beside my sleeping pony.
Bryony opened her eyes looking at me sleepily. She had been drooling round her bit and I could see a trail of saliva across the chin and she smiled contentedly as she wriggled towards me.
I pulled her in enjoying the firmness of her body, the touch of her naked skin and the leather restraining her.
She was so beautiful like this and for a moment, I imagined us chained together at the foot of Maria-Argenta's bed, fellow slaves seeking pleasure in each other's bodies while our mistress slept above.
When I slid inside her she was wet and responsive despite the punishment I had given her earlier and the subsequent fucking.
'Mmmmmm !' She arched back pressing herself against me.
CHAPTER 33: THE NEW YEAR
After seeing the firsts in action, our training definitely moved up a notch. Bryony and PLT were totally fired up and back in harness with their nipple piercings healing, appeared to perform like real Azul ponies. They had been given to Shiraz and Helena who finally seemed to have patched up their differences. Shiraz, in particular seemed surprisingly confident in the way she handled PLT.
I felt way more focussed and noticed a beautiful responsiveness in the way Camilla performed for me. Even Goose seemed touched by an enthusiasm I'd rarely seen in her laconic personality.
By lunchtime on our second day back, The-Cat and Cream had been sent to train with the seconds. I was pretty sure they would be staying along with PLT.
After the day's training with Camilla, I was eager to enjoy her other charms at least once before we left and, after dinner slipped back into the stables. From the way she had performed for me, I thought I would find her enthused but when I entered her stall, she seemed dejected.
'I am sad, Senor.'
For a moment I thought it might be because I was leaving.
'No, Senor.' She laughed when I suggested it but didn't put me down in the way I might have expected. 'Will you take me for a night-time gallop ?'
'Of course.' If there was one thing nicer than a horny pony it was a horny pony who wanted to be used in harness.
I quickly harnessed and bridled her and hitched her to a gig than drove her out onto one of the training fields, making her gallop for the pleasure of seeing her run. She was a born athlete and there was something beautiful about having such control over her. I pushed her hard, probably harder than I had done all day and she responded well despite her full day in harness. I was going to have to tell Valentina to increase her training regimen.
Finally, I let her slow and stop, enjoying the way she had clearly pushed herself to her limts; she was fighting for breath, her chest heaving.
'Kneel !'
She obeyed immediately and I gave her a few moments to catch her breath enjoying the now familiar scent and feel of her body.
When she had recovered her breath, I removed her bit.
'Thank you, Senor.' She said quickly.
'I'm expecting more than your thanks.' I told her.
'Camilla will suck your cock, Senor.' She said still breathing hard. 'And is happy for you to use her as you wish but first she has a request to make.'
'Go on then.'
This was unusual coming from a ponygirl.
'It is the trials for the seconds tomorrow...' She began.
'Yes, I know.' I replied. PLT had persuaded Shiraz to enter them with her; The-Cat and Cream were taking part too.
I was relieved that Bryony hadn't suddenly changed her mind.
'I want to take part.' Camilla persisted.
'I can speak to Helena.' I suggested.
'Helena is not yet ready, Senor. I do not wish to be partnered with her.' Camilla said irritably.
'Carmen perhaps ?' I hazarded.
'No, Senor.'
'Then what are you asking of me ?'
'I am asking Senor if he would partner me.'
'Me ?'
'Unless there is a more competent Senor standing beside you.' The sarcastic Camilla had returned.
'I can try but I'm not sure they will allow a male player to take part.'
'I don't want you as a player.' She said. 'Jesus ! Why are men so stupid !'
I looked down at her confused.
'I want to be a player, not a pony, Senor. I want to wear the captain's collar.'
'That's a laudable ambition.' I told her not really any the wiser.
'God protect me from idiots !' She practically screamed.
'Tell me what you want.'
'Senor ! I am in need of a pony who is responsive and obedient. That pony does not have to be fast or skillful; in fact it is better if that pony is neither of those things so I can...prove myslef.' She looked up at me, her eyes shining, flashing with excitement and challenge. 'They...they do not believe me...they look at this pony body an think I am only fit to be between the shafts and when I try to show what I can do they whip me. And I am Brazilian, not Argentine !'
'And where am I going to find this obedient but unskilled pony ?' A realisation was slowly dawning on me.
'Senor.' She looked up at me. 'I think you know who he is.'
'No !' I took a step back.
'There is rumour in the stable that under the guidance of the Donna you won an opening drop and that you...respond well to the whip.'
I was glad it was dark. I was blushing furiously even as a small part of me was strangely excited by the invitation.
'If I can do it with you...' She said cooly. 'Then I can do it with any pony.'
As put-downs went, it was subtle but deadly.
'You have such a way with words.' I said, well and truly brought down to earth.
'A woman must say what she thinks.'
'So you want to put me in harness and use me as your pony to impress Valentina and get yourself a position as a player in the seconds.' I tried to keep my voice level but I knew deep down I wanted to do it.
'I have ideas... and I want to end this ridiculous pairing they use. By using you, I am showing them that it is the individual player that makes the difference.'
'Or the pony.' I said with a laugh.
'Perhaps.' She laughed too. 'Senor, Camilla would be very grateful.' Her voice dropped to a give a husky seductive note.
'I hope your tactics on the field are better than that.'
'You do not think I'm seductive ?' She looked slightly upset.
I looked at her kneeling harness...
'You don't need to be seductive...'
'I can be persuasive...' She leant forward nuzzling my crotch.
Her harness took some adjusting but it fitted me tolerably although the arm sheath was punishingly tight and I had to run barefoot as her boots were too small. From my vantage, Camilla seemed as skilled a player as Maria-Argenta, she was certainly as liberal with the whip, driving my zigzagging across the field, pulling me to a halt and lashing me into motion again. I was, of course hooded and in no position to judge my performance.
What the hell was I thinking ?
The answer to that question came in the need to stop after the first to laps of the field and tightly restrain my bouncing cock; that and the fact I'm a sucker for helping out a struggling athlete which is how I'd ended up here in the first place.
If I was going to make of habit of this sort of thing, I was going to have to get in shape again; not that I'm unfit but there are levels of performance.
We must have trained for a couple of hours before Camilla was happy with what she'd accomplished. To some degree, she was right, a player could probably master (or in most cases I was aware of 'mistress') a new pony in a short space of time; Jockey's after all ride whatever horse they are given. However, a longer relationship would probably produce a more subtle connection.
'Good boy.' She said when we finally stopped and I stood, breathing hard around my bit, the tight harness on my body creaking with every breath. My arms had gone completely numb in the tight sheath and my feet were sore despite the soft, well watered turf that adorned the Hacienda's training fields.
'Shang oo, Mishdresh.' I said very aware that she was close beside me and naked save, probably, a pair of pony boots.
I felt her unlacing the strap she'd wound around my cock.
'You are very...eager.' She said, squeezing my shaft.
I nodded.
I was, very eager. I'd just played ponyboy to a naked and very beautiful woman, even if I couldn't see her.
'Very handsome too.' Her fingers ran over my chest then slid lower.
I decided I could get used to being a pampered ponyboy.
'Camilla would like to reward her little pony.' Her hand stroked my cock and then she cupped my balls.
I couldn't resist pushing myself forwards into her hand.
'It is a shame we have the trials tomorrow.' She removed her hand and I moaned in frustration. I felt her lean forward, her body pressed against me and she whispered. 'I want you to promise me that there well be no sexy games when I release you. Camilla will be helpless again and she does not want you wasting her energy with sexy games.'
Her finger stroked my scrotum and then she squeezed my balls hard.
'I promish, Mishdresh...' I said quickly.
'Good boy.' She patted my cock then then began to release me from the bridle harness and hood.
Goose was there as I walked into the yard the next morning; of course she bloody was ! In fact the whole stable had turned out to watch the trials for the seconds: ponies, players, grooms. Everyone was going to see Camilla and her new pony.
Bryony stood beside Goose, harnessed and booted on a leading rein to her new piercings; she wasn't bridled but was gagged and she winked at me as I came towards her. Shiraz had PLT in harness and I gathered my former pony would be putting the little blonde through her paces in the selection; there was no sign of Helena. Whipped cream and her beloved Cat were there too, the submissive blonde already harnessed to her gig and clearly eager to please her mistress by winning a place in the squad.
Rubber Dolly stood with Reuben; the lovely dressage mare was wearing one of her trademark rubber minidresses and was restrained in a conventional single sleeve; as usual, she was leashed by her clit and I wondered if the couple had spent a night together. It would probably be the first time since our arrival although it was no different to the way Bryony and I had spent our time in Argentina. Barbie with Charles accompanied Rubber Dolly and her master. Barbie was dressed in the uniform of a groom like Charles though the blouse was ludicrously tight across her chest; after her triumph leading the squad out in Buenos Aires, I couldn't help wondering if she'd rather be naked and in bondage like the other ponies.
'Getting a bit casual with your pony there, are't you, Mike ?' Goose commented.
I was carrying an arm sheath, harness and bridle and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Camilla walked beside me in her leathers carrying a large pair of pony boots.
'She's trying out for the seconds.' I said matter-of-factly.
'Really.' Goose looked skeptical. 'I don't see any players...unless you're thinking of joining them too. I can just see you in a lovely tight pair of leather hotpants.'
'Do you have a problem with me taking part ?' I asked testily.
'Well, apart from the fact you're a bloke...' Goose said sarcastically.
'And why would that be a problem ?' Camilla glared at her.
'Beggars can't be choosers.' Goose replied.
'We should get ready.' Camilla said turning away from the blonde and looking at me.
I put my gear down and pulled off my shirt.
'You'll never fit in her leathers.' Goose said with a smirk.
Camilla stepped behind me and pulled my arms back.
'No !' Goose looked at me open-mouthed. 'Oh my God ! You're serious.'
She had a phone out before Camilla had tightened the straps across my chest.
'This is going to knock that picture of Bryony off the village website.'
I tried not to look at anyone, especially Bryony and I hoped nobody noticed the rampant erection straining against my jeans. However, when I did look up, I think I saw Bryony smirking.
Camilla fitted the mitts and pulled my arms up behind my back, tightening the straps and pulling my elbows together. The tension across my shoulders was becoming rather too familiar...and enjoyable.
'Nice pecs !' Goose laughed as she recorded the whole thing. 'Are you going to get those nips pierced like a proper pony ?'
I tried to ignore her but she put her whip under my chin.
'Mistress asked you a question, PonyBoy.'
'No ! I'm not going to get my nipples pierced.'
At that point Camilla undid my jeans and pulled them down.
'Whoa ! Steady on.' Goose looked down. 'I'd say somebody was enjoying this.'
I blushed bright red as I stepped out of my jeans then Camilla helped me into the boots.
'I don't believe this.' Goose said circling with her phone.
'Well, I think he looks cute !' Rubber Dolly said from the sidelines.
It didn't help. Particularly when she added. 'And he's got a lovely cock.'
I glanced at Bryony who was giving me one of her stares. It was probably just as well she was gagged.
Fortunately, at that moment Camilla pulled the hood over my head and it suddenly all became a lot easier to cope with.
'Open wide.'
I opened my mouth and she pulled the bit between her teeth.
I felt my cock twitch.
Fuck !
I couldn't believe how much this was turning me on. It had been bad enough the night before and with Maria-Argenta but I found myself seriously excited. I'd kept to my promise not to indulge in any 'sexy games' and now I was rampant.
As Camilla tightened the straps of the bridle, I knew I was drooling.
'You know a pony responds better to nipple reins.' She whispered quietly. 'There is still time.' Her fingers lightly brushed my nipples and I shivered fearing that if she did much more to me I was going to cum in front of everyone.
'Nggghh.' I managed to shake my head though part of me wanted to say 'yes'.
'If you say so, Senor.' She pressed herself against my back, he body firm, her arms around me. It was wonderful. Then she took hold of my cock.
I shook my head quickly. 'Nngg.'
Fortunately, she seemed to understand and her hands relaxed on my cock.
'Senor seems to enjoy being a pony.' She squeezed but only very gently.
I really hoped I didn't cum in front of everyone. Sowing my wild oats while my fiance was enjoying a little lesbian bondage fun was one thing; being wanked off in front of her by a kinky pony girl might be a step too far.
'We will have to keep this under control.' She squeezed again and I felt something tighten around the base of my cock. It felt like the device Maria-Argenta had used on me; straps along the shaft of my cock and around my balls.
I thought I might ask Bryony to buy one for me when we got home then remembered I was supposed to be the dominant one.
Then she fitted the crotch strap to my harness and slipped my cock through it before fixing it in place.
'Can't have this bouncing around distracting people.' She squeezed again gently.
Then she clipped reins to me bridle and lead me forwards a couple of paces before turning me and pushing me back, presumably between the shafts of her gig; then I felt her clip the fastenings to my harness.
'Such a shame we can't give you a tail.' She whispered patting me on the bottom. 'But, if you're a good boy I might let you wear on later.'
I was so glad I couldn't see Bryony's face; or anyone else's for that matter.
'Don't try to deny it.' I heard Goose say. 'You're enjoying every second of this, PonyBoy.'
I nodded.
'Still time to get those nipples done.'
'Nggh !' I hoped nobody asked me again; if they did, I'd probably agree.
'Just one more thing.'
Something snapped tight around my balls. It felt like the cock leash Marie-Argenta had used.
'This is in place of a clit ring.' Camilla said. 'I want complete control over you.'
She passed something back between my legs and tugged on it.
I was going to be one very obedient pony. It was just as well straps around my cock were tight !
I felt her climb into the gig then she flicked the reins and I felt the sting of the whip on my buttocks.
And I trotted out of the yard like a good boy.
CHAPTER 34: NATURAL SELECTION
The morning passed in a blur of excitement, arousal, exhaustion and pain. It was reminiscent of my day with the firsts; there were more rests but the bursts of activity were even more intense and I really wanted to do my best for Camilla. The fact that she kept checking me with the leash around my balls told me that I certainly wasn't underperforming, no matter how often or hard she whipped me. I suppose, fit as those lovely ponies around me were, I probably had an edge in raw power.
Around me, I could hear cheering and shouting and, occasionally Camilla's voice, either tense with concentration or, with increasing frequency, raised in triumph. It was utterly thrilling from the tight bondage to the kiss of the whip to the cheer of the crowd and I wondered in my moments of respite why I hadn't tried this before. I suppose the physical exertion played its part, I've always loved training and performing before a crowd is always exciting. Then there was the sheer sexual exhilaration of being treated like this; of being kept in tight bondage and whipped mercilessly by a beautiful woman. It was, perhaps, the most exquisite foreplay I had ever enjoyed, an unremitting three hours of sexual teasing that left my balls throbbing and my cock drooling.
We played a short game and I, once again experienced the fear and thrill of colliding with other ponies; the contact with slick, firm flesh, reminding me that all about me were ponies in harness, fit young bodies, restrained and driven under the whip like me.
I really wished I could see them but, at the same time, knew why I couldn't be allowed.
I soon realised why Bryony liked to be kept and even exercised blindfolded; the sheer thrill of what I felt with my other senses was intoxicating.
By the time we finished, I was exhausted but could only feel disappointment as Camilla drove me back up to the Hacienda. The only consolation was that I might just get to enjoy some much needed relief from the sexual tension that was trapped inside me.
'Good boy !' My player said as she climbed down from the gig.
Her hand touched my bottom and then she squeezed my cock.
'My lovely eager pony boy.' She kissed my shoulder.
She made no move to release me.
I heard the sound of pony boots and the wheels of gigs.
'Hey, Camilla.' A voice called. 'I hope you're going to give him a good rub down.'
'Si, Ximena.' Camilla replied. 'Perhaps you like to help me.'
'Anytime, Camilla. Anytime !'
My balls throbbed exquisitely as she took off the restraining strap and I hoped Camilla might give my cock just one more squeeze even in the cock restraint I was ready to cum. Sadly, she didn't and, disappointingly she moved on to undo my harness. I suppose, i'd been hoping she might make full use of her pony.
Then, after releasing my arms she cuffed my wrists behind my back.
'I like to keep my ponies under control.' She squeezed my balls and I groaned with pleasure. 'Perhaps if you are a good boy we will keep you as my team mascot.'
My response to this suggested Maria-Argenta had really screwed me up.
She removed my boots and bridle and finally my hood.
The light was dazzling but I soon realised I was standing naked in the stableyard wearing nothing more than the cock restraint and handcuffs surrounded by ponies and players from the second team; most of them, like me, now naked; the ponies cuffed and leashed.
Camilla slid out of her leathers and removed her boots.
'Come on, Pony !' Camilla said. 'Let's get you in the shower.'
She reattached the restraining strap to my balls and lead me towards the shower block.
The ponies and players of the seconds followed.
There wasn't a chastity belt in sight; I didn't know exactly what was going to happen but I had a pretty good idea I was going to enjoy it.
In the showers, I was once again engulfed in steam, and the pleasure of warm water running over my skin. Camilla tied my cock leash to a pipe and then pressed herself against me. My cock strained against her in its bondage.
'If you are a good boy, Senor.' She teased. 'Perhaps Camilla take this off later.' She squeezed my cock in its tight restraint.
'Yes, Mistress.'
I just sort of said it and it made Camilla smile. She pulled down on my leash and I dropped to my knees. Camilla took hold of my head and pulled me towards her.
'I hope my pony is well versed in all his duties.'
I needed no more encouragement, I plunged my tongue between her legs, seeking out her sex.
'Whoa there, Pony !' Camilla pulled me back. 'You are way too eager. I am glad I used to restraining rein.'
She laughed and relaxed her grip then guided my face towards her sex. I kissed her smooth mons and then, gently licked it with my tongue. Water was running down her body and splashing over my face. It reminded me how thirsty I was and I eagerly swallowed even as I tasted the salt on her skin.
'Much better.' She pulled my face against her body. 'I think Camilla may keep you.'
I had a feeling I was over Maria-Argenta but the thought of being kept as a pony by this lovely and clearly dominant woman was frighteningly appealing.
'Hey, Camilla.' Ximena appeared beside us in the steam. 'You've had him to yourself all morning. Give us a piece.'
She had Valeria on a leash behind her.
Both player and pony had soap on their bodies, and water running across their skin.
'You gonna get him pierced.' Ximena bent and teased my nipple.
'He doesn't want it.' Camilla said.
'Fuck what he wants.' Ximena said. 'He's your pony now. You're horny pony boy. Masie told me he was a pussycat in the hands of the Donna and she called him her PonyBoy. Like most men, no matter how they posture, they like nothing more than to be made sex toys by strong women.'
I looked up to see Ximena plant a kiss on Camilla's lips.
'Eyes down, PonyBoy !' She said. 'Mistress Camilla has not finished with you yet.'
I returned to my duties aware that above me, Ximana's hands were exploring Camilla's breasts and playing with her piercings.
'Camilla ?' A voice called through the steam.
'Cassandra.' Camilla called back, her voice rather shaky.
A tall, lithe player appeared beside me with a pony leashed behind her. The pony wore a penis gag.
'Mistress Valentina is asking for you.' The new arrival said.
'Can't she wait a few moments ?' Camilla's voice was very unsteady know and I smiled to myself as I licked her swollen clit.
'I don't think our new captain should keep the coach waiting.' The player said.
I looked up. Camilla's eyes were wide with astonishment; or perhaps it was something else.
'Captain ?' Ximena said, taking her hands off Camilla's breasts.
Camilla took a step back and the new arrival and Ximena flung their arms around her. The ponies pressed themselves in too and others appeared to join the congratulatory huddle.
I knelt watching.
'Camilla !' Valentina's voice cut through the steam like a knife.
'Sisters.' Camilla extracted herself from the throng. She was breathing hard and looked excited. 'Would you mind looking after my pony ?'
A dozen nubile women turned to look down at me.
A better man would have felt less terrified.
Ximena was the first to take Camilla's place, pulling her pony Valeria into a kiss as I served her like the obedient little pony I seemed to have become. She'd obviously been a naughty girl at some point, she had a clit ring. Another player knelt beside me and I felt a hand on my cock.
'Shame not to make use of this.' She said squeezing my cock and pressing her breasts against my arm.
'Just wait your turn, Sophie.' Ximena said. 'Why don't you use your own pony ?'
'When I can have a real cock ?' She continued to play with my cock which twitched in her hands.
'Yes, do hurry up, Ximena.' Another player pressed herself against Ximena's back, her hands sliding round to play with her breasts.
'You're so impatient, Jemima.' Ximena said, her voice becoming deeper.
'Want me to stop ?' Jemima continued to play with Ximena's breasts.
'I think I'll allow you to hurry me along.'
Around me I was aware of nubile bodies touching and playing with each other, of players kissing and ponies being stroked; the girl with the penis gag was on her knees fucking Cassandra with it.
Above me, Ximena climaxed and I felt her juices fill my mouth along with the water still running over her lovely firm body.
'My turn.' Sophie, the girl with her hand on my cock turned my face and kissed me. 'Ohhh.' She said excitedly. 'You taste of Xime !'
She pushed me back onto the wooden boards of the shower block and clambered over me, spreading her thighs and thrusting her pussy down over my mouth. Water from her body poured into my mouth and I swallowed again, tasting the salt and sweat from her skin then, as I began to lick her, another hand touched my cock and then something closed over it.
'Becka !' A voice scolded. 'You're such a slut.'
'That's rich coming from you Cassa.' Becka retorted. 'I haven't sucked cock for months.' She squeezed my balls. 'Shame the poor little pony can't enjoy it.'
'Perhaps we should take the cock strap off.' A voice suggested.
It sounded a good idea to me.
'I think we should save him for Camilla.' Cassandra said then shrieked loudly as she climaxed.
'You're never going to make the firsts Cassa !' Someone said.
'I'm not sure I want to.' Cassandra said breathlessly, still impaled on her pony's penis gag. 'All that chastity !.'
There was a lot of giggling and somewhere off to my right a girl climaxed.
Becka was still sucking my cock which was at once beautiful and intensely frustrating.
I'd had enough foreplay.
I flicked Sophie's clit and felt her shudder. A sour taste filled my mouth, her warm juices and I thought she'd climaxed but then I realised it was something else. I Tried to turn my head but she squeezed her knees tight.
'Keep that tongue working PonyBoy !' She said tersely in English.
When I had brought Sophie to orgasm she stood up, water dripping off her body. I could still taste her urine and tried to catch the falling water to wash out my mouth.
'Sophie you filth cow.' A voice said. 'You pissed in his mouth didn't you.'
'She pisses in mine all the time.' Said a dark skinned pony standing to one side. 'I quite like it.'
'Turn him over.' A girl said.
'I haven't finished with his cock yet !' Becka said.
'You can still play with it.' The girl answered.
I was pulled onto my knees and bent forward.
There was a girl kneeling in front of me with her bottom in the air and hands guided my mouth towards her gaping pussy. Like Ximena, she had a piercing; she had rings in her labia too and I ran my tongue over them.
The girl laughed and said something in Spanish I didn't understand. I licked again and saw her pussy turn pinker. Behind me Becka's hands played with my cock. Then something pressed against my anus. I tried to turn but hands held me firmly.
'Hey !'
'Silence, PonyBoy !' Ximena's hand slipped into my hair. 'I'm told you like anal !'
Something was forced through my sphincter.
The girl in front of me pushed her bottom into my face.
'Keep working PonyBoy.' Ximena said.
Another of whatever it was violated my sphincter.
'How you like them, Senor Miguel ?' Ximena asked.
A third bead went in.
'We have many more.' Ximena laughed and pushed me against the girl kneeling in front of me.
I continued to lick her as more beads were pushed inside me; a kneeling slave to this bevy of naked beauties; having my cock teased and my anal ring probed like this after my morning of pony play was one of the most intense sexual experiences of my life and when Ximena demanded I probe the girl's ring with my tongue I did as I was told; gagging even as I nearly came.
'Bad boy.' Becka slapped my bottom. 'He is trying to cum, Ximena.'
'Naughty pony !' Ximena pulled my face away from the girl in front of me who protested loudly.
'We should punish him.' A voice suggested and a chorus of approval followed.
I suppose I could have struggled or shouted for help and someone would probably have come.
I didn't.
I was dragged to my feet and my cuffed wrists were pulled up behind me where they were tied off to something overhead; then my legs were kicked apart and leather ropes tied round my ankles. Then they started to whip me; initially they used a crop that they passed round and then three or four used their hands to slap my bottom and thighs; a couple more whips were found and used on my back, occasionally taking swipes to my swinging cock. At one point, I stumbled forward and my ankles were pulled back making me fall, jerking my shoulders and making me swing by my arms. The whips fell on the soles of my feet and I struggled to regain my footing but the girls holding the ropes on my ankles just kept pulling them away until the soles of my feet were smarting. Then they pulled my legs wide apart and used the whips on the inside of my thighs.
'Enough.'
I turned to look and recognised Camilla through a haze of pain and sexual arousal.
There was silence and stillness.
'We're just having fun.' Ximena said.
'He's my pony.' Camilla said.
She was naked but was wearing a blue metallic collar round her neck.
'Yes, Mistress.' The girls backed away and my feet find found solid ground.
I struggled to stand with my arms still secured above me.
'Let him down.' Camilla said.
The rope holding my arms up was untied though my wrists remained cuffed behind me.
'We will hold a practice at three thirty.' Camilla said.
There were a few surprised looks.
'Yes, Mistress.' Ximena said and the rest joined it.
'Come along pony.' Camilla picked up my cock leash and lead me out of the showers with the anal beads still swinging behind me.
She lead me to her stall.
'You are harmed ?' She asked with surprising concern.
'No.' I said. 'We were just having fun.'
She smiled and raised her eyebrow then reached up to touch the blue collar self-consciously.
'You made captain.'
She smiled and touched the collar again. 'Yes. I wear the captain's collar.'
'I am very pleased for you.' I genuinely was. 'I'd hug you if I could.'
'You wish to be released ?'
'Actually...Mistress...' I went down on my knees. 'I wish to finish what I started earlier. I want you make use of your pony boy.'
If I didn't cum soon my balls were going to explode.
'Perhaps I should.' She said.
She sat on the mounting block and spread her legs and I licked her out thoroughly enjoying this completely submissive role I had taken on.
Then she released my cock.
'You wish me to suck this ?' She said sliding off the block onto her knees and milking me gently.
Actually, I wanted to thrust it inside her.
'What would Mistress like to do with her pony ?' I asked hoping it involved release from the intense need I felt.
'Apart from piercing his nipples and keeping him as a pet ?' She raised an eyebrow teasingly.
We were kneeling facing each other in the stall. My hands were still cuffed behind me.
'Perhaps she should do that.' I was completely overwhelmed with lust.
At that moment, if that's what she wanted to do, I would have submitted.
'I think your fiance might object.' She stroked my nipple.
'You know...?' I was surprised.
'There seemed few secrets in the stable.' She laughed. 'But, to which part might she object; the piercing or the keeping of you as a pet ?'
'Both, I hope.'
'Perhaps I will ask her.' Camilla smiled running her hand teasingly over my chest. 'She too is most submissive. As eager to please as you.'
'You have...played with her ?' I asked.
'Naturally, Camilla has tasted her.' She said, enjoying the moment. 'And her blonde companion. They are both very obedient.' She pinched my nipple and my cock twitched urgently. 'Does your fiance know how submissive you are ?'
I looked down. 'Probably not.'
I'm not sure I'd realised it before now. I'd assumed my previous experience was just lust for Maria-Argenta.
'Then perhaps Camilla will tell her.' She laughed again.
I wasn't sure I wanted Bryony to know just how exciting I'd found being a pony boy or the details of the abuse I'd enjoyed at the hands of the second team.
'It might be better if you didn't tell her, Mistress.'
'Does my pony slave beg his mistress not to speak of it ?'
'Yes, Mistress.' I whispered.
'Fair enough.' Mistress Camilla smiled saucily. 'But I think she will find out soon enough.'
'Thank you, Mistress.'
'Now, we are both wanting that cock inside me are we not ?'
'Yes, Mistress.'
She climbed onto my lap spreading her thighs over mine and impaled herself on me.
I was surprised that I didn't cum immediately but, then, I'd been teased to the point of orgasm for half the morning, I'd probably gone past it.
'Oh my. You are a well behaved pony.' She began to slide up and down me.
I was in heaven.
'Would you like to play with my nipples.'
I nodded. 'Yes, please, Mistress.'
'What a shame you're wrists are cuffed.' She teased, running a finger over my right nipple.
Then she kissed me. 'That is to thank you.' She said genuinely, pressing herself against me. 'For believing in Camilla.'
Then she reached round behind me and began to pull out the anal beads as she rode her submissive pony boy to a very noisy orgasm.
CHAPTER 35: THE FINAL GAME
Camilla did finally release me and, after another somewhat less eventful shower I went to find the others.
They were practicing with the other potras on one of the lower pitches and were playing some sort of match.
There was a figure kneeling at the side of the pitch and I quickly realised it was Bryony.
'Are you ok ? I was suddenly concerned.
'I'm fine, thank you, Sir.' I thought I detected an edge to her voice but perhaps I just felt guilty.
'Why aren't you playing ?'
'Uneven numbers.' She was kneeling in full harness and boots. A gig stood a few feet away and I could see a hood and bridle hanging from the back. 'Goose has been dividing her time between me and Pretty.'
'Would you like to join in ?' I asked.
'And which of us would be the pony, Sir.' She said it rather seriously.
'You are a way better pony than me.' I told her bending to kiss the top of her head.
'Yes, Sir.'
I picked up the hood and pulled it over her head, smoothing it down before tightening the laces. She didn't resist but she was clearly tense.
'Sir ?'
I stopped with the bridle in my hands worried about what was coming.
'Yes ?'
'We are going to need a serious talk about this pony fantasy of yours when we get home.'
'I've always liked ponies.' I said trying to lighten her mood.
'But I'd like to know how long you've wanted to be one.' She said. 'And why...and why you've never played pony for me.'
I knelt behind her. 'What makes you think I enjoyed it.'
She laughed.
'What ?'
'If your cock had been any stiffer half the team would have tripped over it.'
'Are you jealous ?'
'Not jealous exactly, Sir.' She paused. 'I'm just a bit unsure...I thought I was the submissive one.'
My mouth went dry. Bryony was the best thing that had happened to me in my entire life.
'You are the submissive one.' I slid my arms around her. 'And I love having you as my slave.'
'Yes, Master.' She nuzzled back against me. 'It's just you hear about some men trying on their wife's clothes, I'm just wondering if I will come home and catch you in the yard wearing my harness.'
'I don't think that's going to happen.' I kissed her gently on the shoulder. Her skin was warm and salty. If I hadn't already spoiled things between us, I was willing to swear never to play PonyBoy again.
She knelt silent for what seemed an age.
'If you wanted to, Master, I'd be quite happy to swap roles once in a while.' She said suddenly.
'I love you.' I said and kissed her again, then I pulled the bridle over her head and slid the bit into her mouth, buckled the straps tightly and climbed into the gig.
She responded beautifully when I flicked the whip.
It was our final afternoon of polo training at the Hacienda and I thoroughly enjoyed driving Bryony and, after two stints between the shafts, I felt I had a better grasp of how to handle a pony. At least, that's what I told myself it had been about.
Don Hernan was in expansive mood after his team's victory at the weekend and after dinner invited Charles, Reuben, Goose and me onto the terrace where I wasn't surprised to discover that Goose was way more capable of smoking a cigar than me.
We had been talking for some time when he took me aside placing a paternal arm around my shoulders guiding me into his study. I got the distinct impression I was about to find the cost of this 'free lunch' we'd been enjoying for the last couple of weeks.
'I wanted to thank you for sharing your training techniques with myself and my coaches.' He said after taking a drag on his cigar. 'I am hoping you too gained from your time with us too.'
His tone suggested more than simply a knowledge of polo.
'I've enjoyed it very much.' I said somewhat nervously. 'And our team is very grateful for your interest.'
'I too have enjoyed your visit.' He said. 'Particularly the company of your little red-headed pony.'
'Bryony.' I tried to keep my voice steady wondering if she had changed her mind about staying and remembering her mood when we'd spoken on the touchline of the pitch a few hours before.
'I think she would make a good addition to my stable.' Don Hernan continued.
'I'm sure she would be flattered.' I said guardedly.
'You are, no doubt aware that ponies enter my stable in a number of ways.'
'Indeed I am, Don Hernan.' I tried not to show him how tense I was.
'I was hoping that you might accept an offer for her.' He said expansively. 'A transfer fee as it were.'
I didn't know what to say. 'Well...' I stammered.
'I am willing to offer you a million dollars.'
I tried very hard not to cough on my cigar and nearly managed it.
'My sister has taken quite a shine to her too.'
'I see.' I tensed at the mention of Maria-Argenta.
It was at that point I realised there was someone else in the room. She had been sitting in the darkness and it was only when she stood that I saw her.
I recognised her immediately.
'Senor Miguel.'
'Maria...Senorita Cortaz !' I felt a chill at the back of my neck, the prick of sweat. These were people who got what they wanted.
'I hear my training has changed your approach considerably.' She came towards me, stepping into the light. She wore a short dress along with heels and stockings despite the heat. She was as devastatingly beautiful as I remembered her, those dark eyes, her smooth cheeks, that full mouth; her cleavage was dark and inviting.
'As I said, to Don Hernan.' I replied cautiously. 'I have learnt a lot.'
'I apologise for missing dinner but I flew in this evening.' Maria-Argenta's smile became predatory. 'But I am glad I arrived for the negotiations. As he has said, my brother is keen to purchase your lovely pony and I wanted to ensure we made you an offer you could not refuse.' She leant forward slightly and pulled out a chair then lifted her foot onto it, adjusting her stocking top. Her body was mere inches from mine; I could feel the heat radiating from it, smell her scent; see the smoothness of her skin, the swell of her nipples beneath the fabric of her dress.
'I really would be very grateful if you would consider our offer.' She gave me the full force of her smile.
'I really...' I hesitated. It wasn't the money although a million dollars could set me up, if not for life then...
I berated myself for even considering it.
Her dress had a zip at the front and she adjusted it downwards.
'No.' I said feeling myself sweat as I tried to sound more confident than I felt. 'I can't sell her.'
'We would be prepared to increase our offer to two million.' Maria-Argenta said softly. 'Two million dollars.'
Two million dollars !
This was going to be a tale to tell our children...our children...
Maria-Argenta stepped back for a moment out of the light at that moment and seemed to fade.
Bryony and I were about to be married and were going to start a family and...
'I'm sorry.' I said. 'I am grateful for all you have done for us but Bryony is not for sale.'
I left Don Hernan and his sister and walked out into the night air; Goose, Charles and Reuben had gone. I was shaking. If my host of his sister wanted something then I'm sure they had ways to obtain it and here I was more or less alone in the middle of nowhere in a foreign country in a remote homestead protected by armed guards.
Without thinking, I walked towards the stables and found Bryony sleeping alone for once.
'Sir.' She stirred as I opened the door, her lovely blue eyes clouded with sleep. As usual, her arms were sheathed but she struggled to sit up, the chain from her new nipple piercings to the ring in the floor clicking and swinging mesmerisingly from her breasts.
'Come to bed with me.'
Her lips curled into a smile. 'Don't you have a certain pony to say goodbye to, Master ?'
'It's you I want.'
She gave me a beautiful look.
'These new piercings are really sensitive. If you pull on that chain you'll find I'm willing to follow.' She grinned. 'Unless, of course, you want me 'prepared'.'
'I'll take you as you are.' I unclipped the chain from the ring and she climbed to her feet with practiced ease.
I lead her back to the room, nodding to Jose as I passed his room.
'Senor.' Jose jumped up. 'I think you are leaving tomorrow. I wish to say goodbye.'
He shook my hand. 'Incase we do not meet again.'
'Goodbye, Jose. It has been a pleasure.'
'You too Senor.' She said with a crooked smile. 'You will miss us, no ?'
I looked at Bryony. 'Just a little.' I said.
'You are a very lucky man, Senor.' He smiled again and looked at Bryony. 'And you are very beautiful, senorita.'
I was astounded to see Bryony blush.
'Do you want me to take off the sleeve ?' I asked as I lifted her into bed.
'Only if you're expecting me to use it on you.' She said with a smirk.
'I've had enough of being a pony boy for one day.' I told her.
'That's a shame.' She said saucily. 'I was hoping for a ride.'
'Oh, I think I can manage one of those.' I lay down beside her.
Her piercings really were very sensitive, especially the small one through her nipple; I barely had to touch it to make her squirm and, for some reason, this seemed to excite her intensely.
'You're not going to stop playing with these are you ?' She said, giggling, her nipple almost pulsating as I teased it.
'Probably not.' I kissed her right nipple. 'Are you going to keep both sets ?'
'That depends on what Master wants.'
I stiffened slightly and saw a frown cross her face.
'Actually, Master rather likes them.' I said. 'Master would like you to have more.'
'What does Master have in mind ?' She looked up at me adoringly.
'I quite fancy having a dressage mare.'
'Are we talking a single ring or something more extensive like Barbie's ?'
'I was thinking something like Rubber Dolly's.'
'Very kinky.' She said. 'Been discussing it with her a lot have you ?'
'No, but it clearly makes her very randy.'
'She's always been a randy bitch.'
'Really ?' I said with a smile. 'I thought she was the local schoolteacher, a pillar of the community.'
'She's a filthy slut and you know it.'
'Do I ?'
'The whole stable knows it after that little performance you two gave last week.' She said with a smirk as I blushed.
I could hardly deny it.
'Oh, Sir !' She said pressing her lovely body against me. 'While you've been fucking the local tarts and playing with Miss Rubber Slut I've been shagged by half the stables including Don Hernan and his sister. I figure we're even.'
'You...with Maria-Argenta ?' I suppose I should have realised it after my conversation with the 'senorita' and her brother earlier.
She looked at me surprised. 'Did you miss her off your list ?'
I shrugged non-commitaly. 'Not my type.'
'You liar !' Her eyes widened. 'I've seen the way you looked at her. I thought she'd be your first in line with that thing you've got about Penelope Cruz.'
'Oh !' Her eyes widened. 'You are PonyBoy ! They said it was you but I thought they were mixing you up with Reuben.'
She began laugh.
'Not funny.' I said indignantly.
'Spank me !' She said trying to suppress her laugh.
I did.
The match was closely fought if not at the same level as the first or second team.
We finally got to be the 'Mares Lanceurs'; Cream and The-Cat at centre attack, Reuben and Rubber Dolly at hustler, Bryony and I in defense and Goose and PLT in goal.
That's how we started off, at least.
Shiraz and Helena were on the opposing team with other potras, a couple of whom I'm sure had served us breakfast.
Most of the stable turned out to watch, including Camilla in her new collar. 'The captain serves the team.' Don Hernan had told me. From the way the rest of the seconds clustered around her, I suspected she would have not shortage of ponies to choose from.
The game was refereed by Valentina using Barbie as her pony. After her triumph in Buenos Aires, the blonde dressage mare hadn't really taken much convincing to get strapped into a full polo harness and seemed to be regretting her choice not to take part.
We (Cream and The-Cat) won the first drop and scored the first goal and buoyed by this we played well.
By the end of the first chukka we were two one up.
And so it continued.
We swapped positions as the game went on and, at the start of the final chukka were eight to five ahead.
Bryony and I moved to centre attack.
The first run went beautifully and, if Reuben hadn't dropped the ball we'd have been four ahead.
All my fears had gone and as Valentina threw the ball up the second time Bryony was poised and ready; it's not when it bounces, it's when it hits the ground.
Bryony knew, I knew. She left the line as the whip touched her bottom and I had the ball in my hand almost before I realised it; it was one of those zen moments when everything is perfect.
Or it was until the opposing potra ran straight into Bryony at full gallop; the collision had enough force that the opposing player was thrown from her gig; I nearly was too but managed to hang on. As I recovered my seat i looked up to see Bryony was doubled over and guessed she was winded.
'Come on !' I shouted, flicking the whip against her bottom.
Deep breaths are the best cure for a winding; I remember this from my school rugby days.
She straightened slowly and took a few uncertain steps forward then seemed to regain her stride.
I heard a cheer and looked up to see that Goose had scored.
I turned Bryony round and drove her back to the goal line for what was likely to be the final play of the match. She was a little slow but we'd been fucking half the night and I'd been driving her hard.
I was relieved that Don Hernan had not pursued his offer or taken any steps to 'acquire' a new pony.
She was even slower off the line; clearly struggling and the other team took to ball from the drop and scored.
The final whistle went.
That's when Bryony collapsed.
CHAPTER 36: FOND FAREWELLS
Being one of the richest men in South America gets you things.
From my point of view, I will be eternally grateful to Don Hernan for the speed at which the air ambulance reached the Hacienda and the treatment we received from the hospital just outside Buenos Aires.
Bryony had ruptured her spleen and was whisked into surgery and I sat for several anxious hours outside the operating theatre and then at her bedside holding her hand while I listened to machines go bleep watched the rise and fall of her chest.
A nurse came and went, checking the blood that was running into her and noting things down on a chart.
Finally, as dawn was breaking, her eyes fluttered open.
'Sir ?' Her voice was weak but she squeezed my hand.
'Bryony...I...' I'd been waiting eight hours for this moment but I still didn't know what to say and felt tears fill my eyes with confusion.
'Thank you...'
I looked round but we were alone then tried to respond but I was crying too much.
It should have been me comforting her.
'Shhh...' She stroked my hand. 'I know, you don't like to see me hurt.'
'I'm sorry.'
'Don't be.' She turned to look at me. 'I'm a masochist remember.' Her face was pale, almost white as if the colour had been washed out of her. 'I enjoy pain...' She tried to laugh and grimaced. '...well mostly.'
'I'm sure you should rest.' I told her pulling my hand back.
'I love you, Master.' She said suddenly her hand moving rapidly to secure mine.
'I love you too.'
'Even though I've been pony whore, getting myself shagged by half the ponies in the stable ?' She grinned.
'I can forgive you.' I told her.
'Just as well you don't know some of the weird shit I get up to when you leave me with Goose.' She paused. 'Shit ! I said that out loud, didn't I ?'
'I forgive you for that too.' I hoped she might say more but she didn't and it felt unfair to ask. 'Anyway.' I said. 'It's not as if I've been behaving myself.'
'No ! You haven't.' She tried to sound stern but coughed and grimaced again. 'Especially playing PonyBoy to strange women.'
'I thought it would be a good experience.' I lied. 'You, know, help my game.'
'Bollocks.' She said rather loudly. 'We're getting married soon and we have to be honest with each other.'
'Well, I did quite enjoy it.' I conceded.
'I think we've already ascertained that you did a bit more than 'quite enjoy' it.' She smiled weakly.
'I...' I tried to protest.
'You might be bossy on the track but you're hardly a born dominant.' She opened her eyes and looked at me. 'Don't think I haven't noticed how hard you try when you dominate me.'
'It's a lot more fun when I have something genuine to punish you for but I really want to make you happy.' I said. 'Besides, there are certain rewards...'
'I'm a very lucky girl, Mike.' She patted my hand then frowned. 'Fuck ! What drugs have they given me ? I'm gibbering... No, really...'
'I'm the lucky one.' I told her and bent to kiss her hand. 'And, by the way, getting yourself injured the day before we are due to fly home has earned you at least twenty demerits.'
'You're a very sweet guy, Mike...Master and contrary to what people say, the nice guys do get the girls.'
'I've got the one I want.' I told her feeling ridiculously corny but the smile she gave me made me realise it was the right thing to say.
Her eyes flickered shut and for a moment I thought she was going back to sleep but suddenly she opened them again.
'Pity about Goose though.' She said suddenly.
'Goose ?' I frowned, confused. 'Goose is fine.'
'I mean with Pretty staying here, she'll be on her own again.' She looked at the ceiling. 'I mean she'd a weird bitch...and very kinky...but I do quite like her.'
'I might let her borrow you when you're recovered.'
'I think that would be fun... Did I tell you she has a room full of kinky stuff ?' She smiled. 'You wouldn't believe what she made me and Pretty do to each other...'
Frustratingly she drifted off to sleep and the nurse came in and told me to leave her to rest. I needed some sleep too but not before I'd phoned Justin to give him the heads up.
Since the day after we arrived back in Mares I'd had quite a job keeping Bryony from overexerting herself. Despite her injury she was desperate to train and after coming back from a meeting one afternoon to find her jogging round the stableyard I resorted keeping her in bondage. I didn't use anything stringent; as we've established, I'm not a born sadist but it was for her own good. She'd been told not to exercise for a fortnight and nothing heavy for a month. We'd flown back in from Buenos Aires (first class at Don Hernan's expense - I suspected ponygirl polo wasn't listed in the insurance details) a few days after her surgery which left me with a mandate to keep her chained up for at a little over a week.
The wedding was a couple of weeks after that and I felt morally responsible to protect her from herself until then.
At first, I used the technique I'd enjoyed in the Hacienda, chaining her to the bed by a collar but she still kept getting up, so I cuffed her wrists and ankles however, by this stage she was getting horny so I'd had to hand out demerits and put her in chastity to stop her playing with herself. The gag was simply to stop the abuse she was giving me; endorphin withdrawal can be problem in athletes.
Of course, I then had a hot, horny and helpless ponygirl chained up in my bedroom. There was only one thing for it; I put on my own chastity belt and left the keys with Goose. It seemed like a good idea at the time and it was only until the wedding. If gave Bryony's chastity belt key to Goose too.
Needless to say, bride to be wasn't impressed and earned a significant number of demerits before I gave in and strapped her to the bed hooded and gagged and there she stayed for most of the next fortnight. It was way too cold to chain her in the stable.
I had to let her out for her hen night though but I was glad when I heard the doorbell sound, signaling her return.
I opened the door to find my bride-to-be hooded and ball-gagged and wearing nothing more than a pair of white leather thigh boots and, of course, her chastity belt; her arms were laced behind her back in a leather single sleeve that matched the boots and the hood. Standing beside her, holding a leash clipped to one of my beloved's nipple rings was Eye Candy; her hair this week dyed a vivid blue. She was wearing very little too but way more than Bryony.
'I'm returning her safe and sound.' Candy told me handing over the leash and giving me a wink.
There was a scattering of snow on the ground and both girls were shivering slightly.
I thanked her and she turned away tripping through the snow in her huge heels. I couldn't see anyone else and I wondered briefly if Eye Candy had led Bryony down from the village like that.
Leading Bryony inside, I guided her into the living room and drawing down gently on her leash so that she dropped obediently to her knees in front of the fire. Almost four weeks after her accident, she had been starting to get her colour back though her skin was pale from the cold. The scar on her belly was still a livid red but was beginning to heal. Enforced rest had softened her curves a little; I thought she looked good.
I stepped behind her and undid the strap of her gag; the buckle was cold and, as I ease the ball out of her mouth her teeth chattered together. The gag was a pretty big one, certainly larger than the one I used on her.
'Thank you, Master.' She said reasonably coherently before moving he jaw and licking her lips.
'I take it you had a good time ?'
There were a number of fresh whip marks on her body, especially on her buttocks, and her pert little breasts were covered in bruises, many of which looked like bite marks; they were quite obvious on her relatively unmarked pale skin. When she'd been in hospital in Buenos Aires she'd looked like she'd been serially abused; it was a wonder she wasn't referred to the Argentine equivalent of social services. Perhaps, Don Hernan had ensured she wasn't.
'We had a very good time, Master.' She grinned, sliding a little nearer the fire. 'Thank you for letting me go.'
'It was your party.' I told her. Besides, I'd been on my stag do the week before (leaving Bryony to the tender care of Goose). I wondered if she was as hung over as I'd been. If so, she was coping rather better considering she was kneeling at my feet in bondage.
'Don't you want to know what happened ?'
'No, Slave. Your actions are of no concern to me unless you are trying to tell me that Master's property has been damaged again.'
'Master's property has not been damaged.' She said with a little shiver that wasn't just a response to the cold.
Actually, I had a pretty good idea what had happened over the two days she was away; I'd been sent a steady stream of photos by Honey Pot and Cassie although, as Bryony had been hooded for much of the time, I guess she wouldn't have known much about them. I knew they'd been to Bristol if nothing else because I'd seen Bryony kneeling on the Clifton Suspension Bridge, chained to one of the railings by her nipples as the sun rose over the Avon Gorge; this was after a night of partying at a fetish club where I'd seen a short video of her and Honey Pot dancing in a cage.
'Then all I really need to know, is how many demerits you've earned.'
Bryony knelt silently for a while, though her lips moved as, presumably, the totted up her indiscretions.
'Six, I think, Sir.'
I frowned even though she couldn't see me. 'Really ?'
There was another pause.
'Eight, probably...no, nine. Yes, definitely nine.'
Despite our conversation at the hospital, we had returned to the old life, Bryony the submissive slave and me as her master; well, it wasn't quite the same; the Bryony I had first met was resurfacing; cheeky and infinitely more punishable; especially as she recovered. She'd become even more outspoken as the wedding loomed and adding the nine demerits she'd earned while away to her tally would mean I had an excuse to punish her every day for the next month at least.
'Slave looks forward to being shown the error of her ways.' She said bowing her head.
We hadn't gone back to our discussion about my recently exposed submissive leanings and I was, in many ways, quite relieved, however, it was something I was about to be confronted by.
'I think we have time this evening to cross of one demerit I told her picking up the riding crop I'd left out ready.'
She straightened up, pushing her breasts out, knowing they would be my first target.
I raised the whip ready to strike.
'I hope Master is ready to be a stallion tomorrow.' She said suddenly. I could just imagine the smirk on her face beneath the hood. She'd been telling me about this village tradition in which the groom is used as a pony on the morning of the wedding.
'I'm not doing it.' I told her firmly. 'And that's another demerit.'
Playing PonyBoy seven thousand miles away in the sunshine was one thing; being humiliated in the village where I lived was quite another. Besides, I was quite enjoying the dominant role.
'But it's an important village tradition...' She wheedled.
'I'm not from the village.' I reminded her.
'You're as good as now... Anyway, it's a way for a knight to show how much he loves his mare.' She turned as if to look at me, the challenge obvious in her voice and the flush across her chest telling me she was excited either by her impudence or the thought of seeing me in harness again.
I looked at her, kneeling utterly helpless, restrained and hooded; like that, I could whip her breasts then have her bend forward so I could whip her bottom.
'Actually, I already know how much I love you.' I told her.
'Just because you told me when I was injured doesn't count.' She said. 'Besides, I said a lot of stuff under the influence of those drugs.'
'You meant them though.'
'That's beside the point.' She shot back.
She was clearly gagging for a little discipline.
'So how much does my master love me then ?' She asked clearly desperate to be punished.
I'd told her about Don Hernan's offer to buy her.
I'd been dying to tell her since we'd got back.
She gave a whistle.
'Two million quid ?' She asked astonished.
'Dollars.'
'I'm worth more than that.' She laughed but flushed with pleasure then went quiet for a moment. 'Were you tempted ?' She asked rather quietly.
I shrugged even though she couldn't see.
'You were, weren't you ? She accused.
'Two million dollars is a lot of money.' I told her, remembering the way it was made. 'And don't try to tell me you wouldn't have been tempted to enter a life of sexual slavery.'
She was quiet for a moment.
'Slave is glad that Master did not sell her.'
'Good.' I picked up the whip. 'You now have thirty four demerits and I think it's time we made a start on your punishment.'
I'm sure she smiled behind the hood as I brought the whip down on her breasts.
CHAPTER 37: THE MARES STALLION
'No !' I said. 'Absolutely not.'
'What's this ?' Bryony appeared behind me, still collared and naked apart from her chastity belt and with her hands still cuffed behind her back. It was how she'd spent the night after her whipping and, as a consequence her hair was in total disarray and she still had sleep in her eyes but now she was very definitely not looking as submissive as she had a few moments before.
'Mike won't come and play stallion.' Honey Pot called past me.
'It's freezing out there.' I said defensively. There had clearly been more snow in the night and, wearing only my dressing gown, I could feel the chill air rolling across my bare feet and up to my knees.
'It's a village tradition.' Goose reminded me.
'No !'
I started to turn to Bryony for support but felt myself knocked off balance. She had shoulder charged me and we both tumbled into the snow.
I was about to tell her she was supposed to be protecting her stitches or that she'd just accrued another two demerits but half a dozen bodies fell on me; hands, feet and knees pinning me down. They were only girls I told myself, they couldn't possibly get the better of me. I struggled but more joined it.
It didn't take them long for them to wrestle me out of my dressing gown and a moment later they had me face down, naked (aside from my steel chastity belt) in the freezing snow. I tried to struggle but it didn't do any good and before I knew it my hands were cuffed behind me and I was pulled up onto my knees.
There were at least a dozen of them; all, I noticed, dressed for the cold, mostly in leggings and puffer jackets; many wore hats and scarves too; most also, I saw, wore pony boots.
Eye Candy held me firmly with her fist in my hair.
I tried not to shiver.
'You can either come quietly...' Honey Pot told me.
'Or provide us with a lot more entertainment.' Goose stepped forward holding a driving whip.
'Alright.' I told them. 'You win.'
'Good little PonyBoy.' Goose smiled and Honey Pot held up a large heavy looking harness.
Honey Pot and Eye Candy buckled me into the harness; lowering it over my shoulders and tightening the straps across my chest and around my waist; like Bryony's racing harness it had thigh straps but it also had a crotch strap with a large ring clearly designed for my cock.
'We'll need to take this off.' Eye Candy said, pulling on my chastity belt.
'Here.' Goose stepped forward with the key and crouched in front of me to unlock it.
Honey Pot took my semirigid cock and guided it through the ring. I'd not cum for two weeks and was being harnessed by a dozen hot pony girls but it was bloody cold.
'Do you really want to marry this ?' Honey Pot held my cock disdainfully between her thumb and forefinger as she waved to towards Bryony. 'I thought you said he was hung like a donkey.'
'I may have exaggerated.' Bryony was watching the whole thing from the kitchen doorway rubbing her wrists which someone had obviously released though she was still naked and collared and, currently, chaste. 'But he does have other talents.' She gave a slightly lascivious grin.
'You are in serious trouble.' I told her trying to stop my teeth chattering.
'Come over here and spank me then.' She turned and bent over, showing me her bottom; displaying the bruises from the spanking I'd given her the night before. (I'd got her down to thirty two demerits though they were racking up now).
The girls laughed.
'Ponies are not supposed to talk.' Honey Pot told me giving me balls a squeeze.
'This will keep him quiet.' Goose held up a bridle. 'Well, it works with his mate.' She looked down at me as she passed the bridle fitted with a rather un-ponylike red ball gag.
'Did you know Justin likes to be gagged ?' She said mischievously. 'And, if that doesn't work, I find nipple clamps very effective.'
I opened my mouth to tell her that was way too much information but Eye Candy shoved the ball gag between my teeth and started to buckle it over my head.
'What-do-you-know ?' Honey Pot said with a grin. 'I works !'
She gave me suddenly very stiff cock a sharp jerk and then squeezed my balls.
'Careful.' Bryony warned. 'He's been in that chastity belt for two weeks. Too much rough handling and that thing is likely to go off in your face.'
There was more giggling and I glared at Bryony from behind the straps of my bridle noticing that one of her hands was idly fingering the front of her chastity belt.
'Don't want you getting frostbite anywhere nasty.' Honey Pot said sliding a leather sheath over may shaft before strapping it around my balls to hold it in place. She gave my cock a squeeze and tugged gently to ensure it was firmly in place, jerking my balls.
I groaned. I was shivering but not entirely with cold.
'Don't think we're going to need the nipple clamps.' Honey Pot gave my balls another tug.
'Use them anyway.' Bryony said from the doorway.
I glared impotently but then had the pleasure of Eye Candy crouching in front of me and teasing my nipples; well, it was a pleasure until she clamped them.
'Uggh !' I bit on my gag as the steel jaws latched into my cold flesh but I couldn't stop my cock twitching.
'Are you sure he's not a submissive ?' Eye Candy asked, clearly noticing that, despite my protestations, I appeared to be coming round to the idea of being used as a pony boy. I tried not to catch Goose's eye.
So far, despite her threat, she hadn't put the video of me playing pony on the village website.
'He has his moments.' Bryony said with a smile removing her hand from the front of her chastity belt and venturing out into the snow in her bare feet. 'But he can be very firm when he wants to be.' She crouched down in front of me, her legs spread wide and her eyes locked on mine; then she gave my leather covered cock a squeeze. 'Very firm.'
Then she stood up and turned away, scampering back indoors.
Pony boots came next and then they hauled me to my feet, supporting me as I wobbled on my toes. They felt surprisingly comfortable on my feet (or perhaps my toes were just numb with cold) but my calfs started to ache almost immediately.
'You need to do some training, Mike.' Goose said with a sly smile.
'He'll be fine once we get him between the shafts.' Honey Pot opined.
'Don't forget this.' It was Bryony's voice.
Oh shit !
I looked up to see Bryony holding her old tail.
I started to struggle but Goose lashed my bottom twice with the crop.
'Bend him forward.' Honey Pot told the other girls.
What else could I do ?
'Bryony ?' Honey Pot said.
My beloved once again ventured out into the snow.
'Cheer up, Master.' She slapped my bottom. 'It's the size ten and I have lubed it.'
I growled into my gag but there was nothing I could do; she placed the tip against my sphincter and pushed gently. It slid in rather easily and, I'm embarrassed to say, was quite pleasant and, of course, it wasn't the first time I'd been violated this way.
'Good boy.' Bryony clipped the tail to my harness and slapped my bottom again.
I was dragged upright.
'So, Mike.' Honey Pot stepped in front of me and held up a single sleeve. 'Having got this far, are we going for the full experience or we going to have to do this the hard way.'
'I'll be good.' I tried to say though it came out a bit like 'Ish de goo.'
'I'll be good, Mistress.' Honey Pot stared up at me impassively.
I sighed.
'Ish do goo, Msdrsh.' I managed.
'Good boy.' Honey Pot gave my nipple clamps a gentle tug and blew me a kiss.
My cock twitched again.
I made no effort to struggle as my wrists were freed from the cuffs and the sleeve slid up my arms. It was a heavy duty leather one, arms straight in the fashion of Mares; there was no way they were going to get my elbows to touch but Goose and Eye Candy made a pretty good effort, drawing my shoulders back and in the process somehow stretching my clamped nipples; then they took the straps over my shoulders and buckled them tight.
I have seen a video on the internet of a girl escaping from a single sleeve but I really couldn't imagine I was going to be able to do it.
I was helpless and inside the leather sheath, harnessed and bridled and I knew my cock was drooling with excitement.
'You've done a lovely job, girls.'
We all turned.
It was Miss Carter.
The brunette was dressed in a riding costume, white blouse, black jacket, tight black jodhpurs and knee high black boots; just this would have made her a wet dream come true for a submissive little pony boy but, on top of this her clothes were all made of soft, shiny latex, the blouse stretched across her breasts outlining the nipples with their piercing rings and the jodhpurs so tight they revealed every nuance of her sex and the lovely curve of her bottom. On her head was a riding hat and in her gloved hands was a riding crop.
I resisted the compulsion to drop to my knees and worship her although it helped that Honey Pot and Eye Candy were holding me up.
'So, Mike.' She gave me one of her enigmatic smiles, a faint curl of her perfect lips. 'Are you ready to be my stallion ?'
She tapped the whip against her gloved hand.
'Yesh, Msdrsh.' I just nodded, blushing red as I realised how obediently I'd responded.
'Good boy.' She stretched out a latex covered finger and ran it over my shoulder down across my chest tracing the straps of my harness.
My cock twitched violently.
'Naughty boy.' She tapped my cock with her crop.
I'm amazed it didn't cum my load but then the straps down there were very tight.
I stood trying to calm myself, my skin glowing red; I certainly wasn't cold anymore.
Miss Carter walked around me.
'Nice.' She said as she appeared back in front of me. 'You're clearly looking after yourself as well as Bryony.'
I ventured a look at my beloved.
She was frowning a little but didn't look as if she was about to claw my eyes out.
'Any last request before we take him out for playtime ?' Miss Carter addressed this towards Bryony.
'No, Miss Carter.' Bryony's voice was a little unsteady. 'But please don't damage my property.'
'You're property ?' The lovely dominant arched an eyebrow.
'I'll own him soon, Mistress.' She said in a delightfully submissive tone. The stepping out once again into the snow, completely naked save for her collar and chastity belt, my bride to be slinked towards me pushing her body against mine then put her arms up around my neck, tipped back her head and kissed me lingeringly around the while gag grinding her hips against mine.
There was nothing I could do about it; I just came my load into the leather sheath.
There was a mixture of sniggering and cheering.
'Just remember which of us girls has the magic touch.' She said as she disentangled herself from me. 'PonyBoy !' Then she turned away, swaying her hips as she walked back to the doorway.
I couldn't take my eyes of her.
'Well, Mike.' Miss Carter used my bridle to pull my gaze away. 'Are you ready to be my stallion.'
'Ysh, Msdrsh.'
I glanced across at Bryony who winked and closed the door behind her.
They harnessed me to a field gig and I felt Miss Carter climb on board (she was a lot heavier than Maria-Argenta) and with a shake of the reins and a sharp kick to the top of my right thigh from her whip (which was a lot heavier than the ones used in polo) I was drawn back into PonyBoy experience. I jogged gently through the snow until a second shake of the reins and kiss of the whip took me to the trot. The pony boots were designed for racing and, as I gathered speed it became even easier as the springs in the boots started to give me an extra push.
Smack !
The whip stung the top of my buttocks and, just incase I hadn't understood I heard Miss Carter's voice 'Rising trot, PonyBoy !'
I began to lift my knees and the whip came again.
'Higher !'
I increased my efforts and moved my sheathed arms to protect myself but the whip stung the bottom of my back on the left.
Shit ! It really hurt or maybe it was because it was cold.
We emerged on the the lane.
'Keep them up, Pony Boy.'
The whip came again.
After about thirty meters my thighs were starting to ache and as the road started to climb they really began to burn. I was very grateful when Miss Carter let me fall back into a lazy trot.
Something went passed to my right.
Eye Candy no longer wrapped in her coat and hat but running alongside me in full harness.
'Eyes front, PonyBoy !'
The whip struck the top of my buttocks.
'What do you think girls ?' My driver asked. 'Shall we make him canter.'
My heart sank at the chorus of approval and I tried to anticipate the whip but felt a sharp tug on the reins. 'Steady, Boy !'
I cursed around the ballgag bit and was rewarded with a couple of sharp blows striking my lower back despite waggling my restrained arms to try to protect myself.
'And canter.'
The whip came again and I did my best to jog faster.
'Come on !'
The whip encouraged me.
'I think he needs a bit more encouragement, Miss Carter.'
'Indeed, Candy.'
Something struck me across the buttocks and glanced to my right to see a grinning Eye Candy jogging at my side brandishing a crop. I was struck again and saw Honey Pot on the other side stripped of her coat to reveal a harnesses. Others appeared, pony girls in harness all running beside me.
I'd been hooded when I'd run with the polo ponies but this time I could see everything. The unencumbered ponies ran easily with no chariot to pull except Salty Petals who was harnessed to Claire's gig. Most of them carried whips and, along with my rubber mistress, they encouraged me to run up the hill to the green; then the took me up to the tourney field. By the time we reached it, I was gasping for breath and Miss Carter gave me a few moments to recover. The girls around me laughed, teasing me and more than a few rubbed themselves against me, squeezing my cock or playing with my clamped nipples.
'Don't tire him out too much, girls.' Miss Carter said from behind me. 'I'm sure Bryony will want him on top form tonight.'
There were shrieks of laughter.
'Come on, PonyBoy...' Miss Carter said, shaking my reins. 'We have to get you round the course.'
CHAPTER 38: WEDDING BELLES
Bryony and I had a lovely wedding; most of the village were there.
After my 'stallion' experience, they'd dropped me off at Goose's where I found Justin and a couple of other mates who'd come down for the wedding. Left on her own after PLT had stayed in Argentina, Goose was happy to put them up. Justin had done his best man thing ensuring my 'suit' was ready (riding jacket, breeches and boots, of course), checking the 'rings' and getting me to the pub for a swift half before the big event.
There wasn't a harness in sight (except for the occasional strap peeking out or a breast ring exposed by the neckline of a low cut dress) among the congregation that packed into to the little church in Mars-de-Launce although the observant visitor might have noticed the rather unusual footwear sported by the village women who'd turned out in their finest.
It was different for Bryony, of course, she'd chosen to follow the village tradition of marrying in full harness and, I must say, she looked beautiful. The harness was white, naturally, leather, of course, and had been made especially by Cassie. In line with tradition, I hadn't seen it until I turned to look at her being lead down the aisle. As harnesses went, especially those worn by a racing mare like Bryony, and polo ponies for that matter, it was rather modest, we were in a church after all. Her perky little breasts were, thus, pretty well covered and her nipples discretely hidden by little leather straps that buckled across them necessitated, of course, by the presence of her now multiple nipple rings. She had briefly, considered removing her piercings but then what would her father have lead her down the aisle by ? I'd suggested her arm but then realised that both of them were going to be tightly sheathed behind her back. After spending two weeks almost constantly in a polo sheath at the Hacienda, she'd told me she now found the traditional sleeve completely comfortable even when laced to bedroom tightness and I'd her in one of these; however, there she was wearing a triangular polo sleeve.
Cassie had clearly been very busy since Bryony's return.
The wedding harness even had a crotch strap which, assuming she'd shaved (which, of course, she had) was, by Bryony's standards, almost the equivalent of a pair of rather brief knickers; well, a thong, the white strap at the back all but disappeared between her perfectly toned buttocks. The harness had a very tight boned girdle that sculpted her waist beautifully (and hid her scar) and, I thought was rather reminiscent of the girdle Barbie had worn when she'd been the mascot of the Caballeras Azuls; it supported a pair of gorgeous shiny white leather thigh boots that, though in the 'pony' style, were so extreme they would be impossible to run in (I was impressed that she could walk in them) and I immediately resolved she would be wearing for me for much of the next week if not longer.
Then there was the bridle, sewn in the field style so that not only was my lovely bride lead down the aisle by her nipples teetering on a pair of impossibly heeled toe boots, she did the whole thing blindfold. The blinkers, or rather 'blinders', were pretty much the equivalent of a veil at a 'normal' wedding and would be opened at the end of the ceremony allowing me to see her face and her to see all the wedding guests. The bit would stay in place for the duration; mares don't say 'I do', they simply nod. Needless-to-say, the bridle was plumed. Her other adornment was her tail; she'd recently told me only a fourteen would do.
I'd fancied Bryony the moment we'd met on that coaching course and after eighteen months together, seeing her like this made me realise that my desire for her had grown with our relationship. We had both enjoyed some fun in Buenos Aires but seeing her standing at the alter in her wedding harness made me realise that, though I might enjoy a lot of fun with other ponies, there was one I would always come back to.
Her father did use her nipple rings to lead her down the aisle; drawing her by a leading rein like they used in the polo stables clipped to the small sensitive nipple rings; thinking about it, I should have realised this was more than a joke. Bryony's father might not be from the village but her mother was and, while Mrs Skinner might not have been the competitive pony her daughter was, she had a surprising amount in common with her daughter.
For a start, they both shared the same physique and red curls even if Sylvia's, were now shot through with threads of white. Sylvia had been a model too. A bit of a wild child, she had been given the pony name of 'Jailbait' by her peers on account of her rather precocious development. She'd left Mares at eighteen missing out on the pony training her parents hoped might bring her to heel and gone to America where she'd created quite a storm; appearing as a Playboy centrefold before moving on into fetish work. According to Bryony, her mother had appeared in 'Knotty' and 'Tied and Teased' and had worked for Robert Bishop (one of my bondage heroes) and Guy Strangeways who'd been more than a little interested in her knowledge of restraint and pony play. Apparently she'd been tied up by Summer Cummings and had spanked Ashley Renee.
When she'd returned to Mares, with a young American she'd met on the fetish scene in tow she was a little old for racing but had been a passable dressage mare and even won Queen of the Field.
It was little wonder Bryony grew up the way she was.
Telling my parents had been even more difficult. I had been saved the task of broaching the subject when my mum had asked Bryony about the sort of dress she was planning to wear and my beloved had produced a sketch by Cassie that would have taken pride of place on any erotic art website. My mother had looked rather shocked but my father seemed to take it in has stride and gave me one of his fatherly smiles. However, it was my mother that asked the most obvious question: How will you get the ring on ?
By the day of the wedding, Justin, of course, was used to this sort of thing. (He had been waiting for Goose with flowers and, from his text to thank me for the tip-off a couple of days later, I guessed his chastity belt had been removed - for a day or two at least). However, glancing in the direction of my mates, seated on the 'groom's side' of the church I could seen them staring open-mouthed at my harnessed, bridled and tailed pony.
Like Justin, I'm not sure they'd believed me when I'd told them about the traditions of Mares-de-Launce; even the photos I'd shown them were viewed with suspicion and the implication that I was surfing very inappropriate websites. In the end they'd gradually come round or perhaps just didn't care once I'd introduced them to Honey Pot and Eye Candy who had been drinking in the pub when they'd arrived early the previous evening. The girls had known the lads were arriving and had dressed for the occasion; Eye Candy in electric blue rubber to match her hair this week and Honey Pot taking a leaf out of Whipped Cream's book and dressing from head to foot in tight black leather (she even had a whip in her boot and, given her usual chat-up line of 'I need a firm hand' suspected she was hoping someone would use it on her).
I'd had a quick drink with them before heading home to await Bryony's return.
After signing the register we emerged from the church to the peel of bells to find Mares-de-Launce in all it's glory; an honour guard of ponies (sorry, 'mares', I will always get that wrong) and 'knights' in full rig lining the path down to our waiting chariot or, rather, as Bryony had told me, 'troika'. They were dressed in race day, full finery; harnesses polished, manes braided with ribbons and tails combed; knights were jacketed and wore white breaches and very shiny boots; whips held at the ready.
'Fuck me !' I heard Gavin whisper behind me.
I turned and gave him a wink and couldn't resist giving my beloved a kiss (she was still bridled) if for no other reason than because of the smirk on her face; then, taking up her nipple rein, I lead her out.
We were half way down the delightful cavalry parade when it suddenly erupted, confetti exploding over our heads and hats flying to the sound of cheers and the jingling of nipple bells. We ran for the troika but there was no escape and they surrounded us as we scrambled aboard.
It was traditional for the bride to go between the shafts and the groom to drive but, with her injury, I my lovely new wife had reluctantly made other arrangements. I now fully understood why she had wanted a winter wedding though I have no idea how she knew it would snow.
There were three mares harnessed to the troika; standing poised in matching white harnesses and boots, arms sheathed, chests thrust out; wearing white plumes and white tails and each girl had a bell tied to her nipple rings with red ribbons.
Cassie stood on point with Barbie to her left and, on the right was Rubber Dolly.
'Eyesh frond, Mishder Jamesh...' Bryony nudged my cheek with hers. 'Itsh cushdomary do keep your eyesh on de lead mare when driving a troiga.'
'Really ?' I asked drawing the blanket over her. 'I was thinking I might want to look at you.'
She blushed slightly and lifted her head while I removed her bit. She looked perfect in her new collar; a slim shiny band barely more than two millimeters thick and two inches high; white to match her outfit and, of course, the 'colour' of our new team.
'I'm really sorry I can't be your pony, Sir.'
After her experience as a polo pony she'd told me she'd prefer to be a pony than a mare but that was between us; Mares was a traditional village.
'I think these three make up for it.' I told her gesturing to the three lovely mares puling the troika.
'I'm not sure Cassie would agree.'
As lead bridesmaid/maid of honour it had been up to Cassie to take Bryony's place.
'She loves being in harness.' Bryony said brightly.
Cassie shifted in her boots, tossing her head. She'd not been best pleased when she'd been told she'd be running beside her mother and had moaned loud and long about it until one night in the pub Barbie had come up to her and suggested she was worried that she'd be shown up. As pony put downs go, this was one of the best I'd heard and, after a moment's shocked silence, the entire room had erupted into pales of laughter much to Cassie's humiliation.
I took up the reins and the whip. 'You do have some explaining to do.' I said.
'Really ?' Bryony blushed.
'That 'stallion' thing.'
'Yes, Sir ?' Bryony looked up at me with huge blue eyes. 'What about it, Sir ?'
'You made that up, didn't you.'
'Actually.' Bryony said nodding in the direction of Miss Carter. 'It was her idea.'
Facing away from us, there was no way the lovely dressage mare could have known she was being accused so, when she shook her head, it was an acknowledgement of guilt.
'Really ?' I hefted the whip.
'Don'd dry do dell me you didn'd love every shecond of id !' Mis Carter turned her head slightly, attempting to glance back at me.
'Did you enjoy it ?' Bryony asked, slightly accusingly.
I shrugged. 'It was an experience.' It was my turn to blush.
To re-exert my authority, I shook the reins and flicked the whip at Miss Carter's lovely pale bottom.
We slid forward silently on the snow; well, not completely silent on account of the three lovely mares were all wearing nipples bells.
'So would Master like to play pony again ?' Bryony nuzzled me. 'You seem to be making quite a habit of it.'
'I can't imagine why my Slave might think I enjoyed it.'
'I've seen the photos for a start and, of course, you came your load for me.' She said accusingly.
'I was under...some pressure.' I said rather defensively.
'I suppose I can be quite persuasive.' Bryony conceded. 'By the way, you're looking at her bottom again !'
I was. I was struggling to keep my eyes off her lovely pale bottom and swishing white tail and the bell I'd just noticed was tinkling between her legs, dancing from her clit piercing.
'Sorry.'
Bryony smiled. 'You know she has the same effect on me.' She whispered.
'Yes.' I nodded. Bryony had once told me she'd had a crush on her her teacher since her school days. I knew she wasn't the only girl in the village.
'I was thinking.' She said keeping her voice down. 'I might try out as a dressage pony this year.'
I smiled. 'That might be fun.'
'I've asked Miss Carter to give us, that is me, some coaching.' Then she leaned in really close. 'And if I asked nicely, she might put us both in harness, side by side.'
'I'm not sure I'm a natural pony boy.'
'Those photos tell a different story.' She said loudly. 'Rubber Dolly's right. You loved every second of it.'
'Maybe I did enjoy it a bit.' I admitted.
'So.' My lovely new wife concluded. 'Plans for our first year of marriage: one - train me as a dressage mare...'
'With a piercing ?' I asked as casually as I could.
'God !' Bryony said loudly. 'I've got your collar locked around my neck ! What else does a girl have to do to show her man she belongs to him ?'
I tried not too look too chastened and flicked the whip at Rubber Dolly's beautiful bottom adding to the growing number of red marks that adorned it.
She's a dressage mare, she's into it.
'But, yes.' She conceded. 'If I become a dressage mare...' She raised her voice. 'I will need a clit piercing. And I'll take Cassie with me.'
'That's agreed, Mrs James.' I said kissing her and whipping Miss Carter again just for the pleasure of it (and the revenge). 'What's number two ?'
'Two is we indulge in a little pony play.' She lowered her voice. 'Side by side or maybe even with a bit of role reversal.'
I smiled. The idea quite appealed to me.
'Perhaps I could race you against Justin.'
'Don't push it, Slave.' I said with another flick of the whip as we turned the corner of the green towards the Mare in Hand. 'And three ?'
She leaned in really close. 'We try and lure Rubber Dolly into a threesome.'
God, I loved my new wife.
CHAPTER 39: WEDDING NIGHT
After the formality of the church, the reception quickly descended into a drunken affair.
Somewhat unusually, Bryony was very talkative, probably as a result of frequent sips of prosecco which she demanded regularly from my glass. She's hardly a heavy drinker and she'd not drunk anything for about two months with the polo training and then being injured. As usual she stuck close to my side for most of the evening, teetering on her huge heels like a stilt-walker; however, she did disappear in one occasion and I spotted her in earnest conversation with Rubber Dolly.
The brunette had slipped a long white rubber dress over her harness which was clearly visible beneath.
Even though it was my wedding night, a part of me hoped they were arranging that threesome.
As traditional, we stayed for first dance and then tried to slip away but when you're going away car is a troika pulled by three hot ponies (really, they are ponies, well, Cassie is) and you have to get them away from the bar to put them in harness (a responsibility I delegated to Justin as my best man, though I know he had a bit of help from Goose) it's hard to make a subtle exit.
When we stepped out into the snowy night, our troika was awaiting us, the three ponies standing poised and ready, their breath coming in clouds of steam. Justin very cooly passed me the reins as I helped Bryony in; then, to some drunken cheering I drove off.
It was dark and very cold, but the night was beautifully starlit; it was romantic and very kinky at the same time; nothing but the stillness of the snow, the ghostly outlines of the ponies with their swishing white tails and the jingling of nipple bells until we entered the stableyard at the farm and the security light came on revealing the three dressage mares in their full glory trotting in time.
I drew them to a halt and climbed down before helping Bryony out of her seat. The three mares stood patiently waiting for Goose to come and collect them, breath pouring from their mouths and nostrils in steaming clouds. I hoped Goose wouldn't be too long, it was cold enough fully dressed although, of course I hadn't just pulled a sled through the snow.
As I passed Rubber Dolly, I couldn't resist given her a slap on the bottom.
'It is our wedding night, Master.' Bryony said with what I hoped was mock exasperation. 'You could try and keep your hands off the slutty dressage mares.'
I saw Cassie turn and glance at her.
'I think your being a little harsh, darling.'
'They're all sluts and they know it.' Bryony said in a surprisingly challenging way and I realised she was more than a little drunk. Look at them.' She said staggering slightly. 'They're panting like bitches on heat.'
I pointed out they'd been running.
'And their nipples are sticking out like bullets.' Is she wasn't restrained, she'd have been gesturing wildly.
'It is cold.' I said trying to catch hold of her bridle and replace the bit.
'Put your hand between their legs.' Bryony said stepping awat indicating that she might do it if she wasn't restrained.
'Darling, I hardly think...'
'Go on.' She nodded towards Rubber Dolly. 'Grope the slutty brunette.'
I did.
She was soaking and, when I felt her, made a noise that was more cat-like than pony. I didn't check the other two.
'Will you stop touching those sluts and take me to bed !' My new wife implored in a very unladylike and, indeed, unsubmissive way.
Fortunately, at that moment Goose appeared with Justin, both suitably wrapped up in warm coats. Goose looked particularly fetching in fake furs that gave her the appearance of a Russian aristocrat; she took the reins from me and climbed into the troika.
'Come along, LoverBoy !' She patted the seat beside her. 'If you're good I'll let you drive.'
Justin shook hands with me, awkwardly hugged a shivering Bryony and leapt in beside Goose.
'You can be a very naughty boy.' Bryony admonished, clearly still in the same frame of mind as I unlocked to kitchen door. 'You're going to need to be kept on a tight leash now we're married; and restrained to stop those hands wandering.' She leant against me.
'That's a bold claim for a slave.' I told her.
It was, especially for one who was tightly harnessed and restrained with a bit hanging from her bridle that was just crying out to be put in its proper place.
I suppose I should have put her over my knee and spanked her but I was quite enjoying the sight of my lovely new wife once again disinhibited. She'd been right, she looked beautiful in the collar.
It was way better than a ring (although there was a gold one clipped to one of her nipple rings that I could put on her finger later).
'I know your little secret, Master.' She said with a giggle, her teeth chattering.
'I'm beginning to wish I'd sold you.' I told her.
'You won't when we get to the bedroom.' She laughed, staggering slightly in her huge heels.
'I was expecting the kitchen table for starters.' I told her.
'I will be more fun in the bedroom.' She promised.
I had to agree.
I scooped her up into my arms; her skin was chilly and her lips cold when I kissed them.
Naturally, I carried her across the threshold. It was a close thing but I managed to get her past the kitchen table and up the stairs to the bedroom where I set her down.
'You'd better chain me up.' She said nearly falling over. 'Otherwise I might run away.'
In her state, she'd be lucky to make it down the stairs in those heels.
'I thought I was the one that needed to be kept on a leash.' I reminded her.
'We can do that later.' She said, lifting her head so I could clip the chain from the bed to the ring of her new collar.
'You've no idea how horny that makes me.' She said making chain rattle. 'But you'll have to do the rest she said.' Making a show of her sheathed arms.
'I think I can manage.' I said, reaching to undo her crotch strap.
'I had hoped for a little foreplay.' She chided shaking her chest again.
I undid the straps over her nipples and teased them, brushing the Morrisey rings aside. They were still intensely sensitive even though it was over a month since her new piercings and her little buds responded instantly.
'Better.'
I kissed her, pulling her lovely slim and tightly restrained body against me.
'Much better.'
My hands slid down to her bottom and I lifted her up allowing her to wrap her booted legs around my body.
'Now can we go to bed ?' I teased.
'You can be very pushy sometimes, Master.'
She kissed me again and then I dumped her on the bed but as I pulled my shirt off and climbed up beside her, she rolled away.
I wouldn't have thought it would be quite so hard to pin down a pony in toe boots and a pony sleeve.
'I was just thinking...' She said, sitting up on the bed and pulling her legs up in a delightfully coy pose.
I stood and finished getting undressed.
'...about that role reversal...'
'Tomorrow.' I told her. 'Or maybe next week.' She was helpless and, while a little submission might be fun, tonight I wanted to enjoy my new wife in her natural helpless and submissive state.
'We could start it tonight.' She said suggestively, giving me the big blue eye treatment. 'Master.'
'You're already beautifully restrained.' I said. 'It seems a shame to spoil that.'
'Oh, I'm not going to change that.' She said. 'A girl only gets to wear her wedding outfit once.'
'I think I might ask you to wear it again.' I said looking at her lovely restrained body. 'Especially those boots.'
'Why don't you examine them a little more closely.' She said, sliding her right foot towards me. 'You can lick them if that's what turns you on.'
'Maybe later.' I smiled, brushing her foot aside and clambering over the bed towards her.
She wriggled backwards away from me.
Considering she was chained to the bed and had her arms tightly restrained behind her back, she was surprisingly agile.
'Wait !' She said.
She was backed up against the headboard with me kneeling between her legs.
'Since you are on your knees...' She said with a coy smile. 'And it is our wedding night. The least you can do is go down on me.'
I grinned. She'd clearly thought this out and I was willing to play along. I could punish her tomorrow.
'If mistress says so.' I said with a grin, undoing her crotch strap and bending to push my tongue between her legs.
'Slow down !' She said pushing at me with her legs. 'If we're going to do this, I want to do it properly.'
I slid off the bed onto my knees and she stood up, pushing her sex into my face.
I grasped her thighs and thrust my tongue between her legs.
'Oh, good boy.'
'Thang you, Mithdreth.' I said ironically with my tongue in her pussy.
'Don't mention it, Slave.' She said in an amused tone. 'And while you're down there, would you mind removing my tail.'
'Of coursh, Mithdreth.' I fumbled behind her, my tongue still exploring her slit, and undid the clip on her tail, pulled, felt a pop and then another.
I couldn't resist looking.
'I know how much you like anal beads.' She said with a laugh. 'Cassie leant them to me.'
'Cassie...?'
'Tongue, Slave.'
'Yes, Mistress.' I pushed my tongue inside her again and gently pulled on the beads.
She came remarkably quickly.
'My turn now.' I said as her orgasm subsided. 'If 'Mistress' doesn't object.'
'If you insist, Slave.' She said imperiously then added. 'But could you finish those beads off first ?'
She climaxed again as I removed the last few beads.
'Good boy.' She said with a smile. 'I might keep you.'
'Mistress is too kind.' I grinned up at her, the taste of her still salty on my tongue. 'Is there anything else Mistress desires ?'
She looked down at me as if pondering. She clearly had something else planned.
'Well, if you're offering.' She said. 'I would like to see what you look like chained to my bed.'
I grasped the chain dangling from her collar.
'Not that one.' She gestured with her head. 'Those.'
'I thought they were for you.' I told her. 'To prepare yourself for Master.'
'They'll fit you.' She said with a triumphant smile.
I suppose I should have said 'no' and taken back the dominant role but instead I climbed on the bed and spread my legs cuffing my ankles apart and then lying back to find the handcuffs at the top the bed. I'd watched Bryony prepare herself for me like this on my phone a couple of times (after making sure I wasn't going to be too long).
'Any idea how we get out ?' I asked.
'I'm sure we'll figure a way. The keys are in the bedside drawer and, assuming you can get my boots off, I'm pretty good with my toes.'
I thought it might be fun.
'Wait !' She said again.
I paused about to shut the cuffs round my wrist.
'I want you gagged.'
'It won't be much fun for you.' I told her.
She looked at the bedside table. There was a ring gag lying on it.
'And don't forget about me.' She said with an arch of her eyebrow.
I picked up the ring gag and pushed it into my mouth then buckled the strap behind my head.
'You're drooling already.' She chided.
'Ushd oben ub !' I told her.
She obeyed and I pushed her bit back into her mouth then secured the clip to her bridle.
I do love gagging Bryony, there's something deliciously sensual about it. Doing it while wearing a gag myself was a delicious new experience.
She pressed her mouth to mine.
That was even more delicious.
'O on en !' She urged pushing my back with her body and looking at the handcuffs on the pillow.
'U shur ?' I was slightly anxious but she'd obviously been planning this.
'Ed on wij id !'
I lay back and locked my wrists in place fixing me to the bed.
'Cood boy.' She bent and rubbed her gagged mouth against mine then nuzzled against my neck, rubbing her body against my chest.
There was nothing I could do but lie back and enjoy it.
In fact, we both enjoyed it, both helpless and gagged and incredibly turned on. It's amazing how resourceful one can be when helpless in bondage and when you are as comfortable in it as Bryony there is very little you can't accomplish. She thus giggled as she presented her nipples to my gagged mouth to lick and then straddled me so I could once again lick her pussy.
'Sdill wand do piersh me ?' She asked after her third climax of the night.
'Uck, yezh.'
Then she slid down over my cock and used me like the sex toy she'd turned me into giving me one of the best orgasms I've ever had, riding me slowly, easing her pussy up and down my shaft and teasingly me until I begged. There is something intoxicating about cumming in bondage. She came shortly after me and then lay beside me, nuzzling me and rubbing my cock with her booted thigh.
CHAPTER 40: AN INTRODUCTION TO MARRIED LIFE
I woke to find myself still chained to the bed.
'Michael. This is a pleasant surprise.'
I opened my eyes to find Rubber Dolly looking down at me.
I struggled.
'Oh, please, Michael. Don't get up on my account.' Her face broke into one of her enchanting smiles.
'Ish, Carder.' I was still gagged and my mouth was dry.
'That's 'Mistress' to you, Slave. I thought you'd have known that.' She said with that same smile. 'But you'll learn that in time.' Her fingers ran over my chest, teasing my nipple.
She was wearing a charcoal grey skirt suit and white blouse, glasses too and stockings; heels too I suspected. She looked every inch the perfect school teacher except that her clothes were entirely made of shiny rubber.
'And where is the lovely Bryony.'
Bryony's head appeared above the foot of the bed, her eyes slightly glazed with sleep, hair tousled; she still had the bit in her mouth there was drool on her chin.
Miss Carter looked her over.
'How delightful.' Miss Carter smiled. 'The collared slavegirl is already in harness.' She looked back at me. 'Which means, when we're ready for our morning run, I'll just have one pony to harness.'
'Wad ?' I looked up at her over my gag.
'My wedding gift to the two of you.' Miss Carter smiled. 'Six months as my personal slaves.' She winked. 'Actually it will be nearly seven by Mare's day.'
She lifted her hand to show me what she was holding.
A collar, white enamel like Bryony's only bigger.
'No !'
Miss Carter frowned. 'Slaves must learn to do as they are told.' She admonished. 'Besides how will everyone know you are my property if you're not wearing a collar like Sticky here.'
She reached down and slid the metal round my neck. I could have made it difficult but there wasn't very much else I could do, stretched out on the bed. The collar was a snug fit and locked round my neck with an ominous click. I shuddered as it closed, aware that my cock was standing rigidly to attention.
'Perfect.' She said in her low, sultry voice looking at me with her lovely grey eyes, beautiful, hypnotising. 'What do you say ?'
'Shangs yu, Misdresh.'
'Good boy.' She smiled radiently. 'Sticky.' She said using Bryony's pony name. 'Come here.'
'Esh, Mizhdrzh.' Bryony crawled forward on her knees. Despite just being roused from sleep, she looked gorgeous in her tight white harness and the pony sleeve, the chain to the bed was still fastened to her collar.
'Shall we have a bit of fun with PonyBoy here ?'
Bryony looked at me with mischief in her eyes. 'Yezh, Mizhdrzh.'
'I hoped you'd say that.' Miss Carter climbed up onto the bed and straddled my twitching cock. Then, lifting the hem of her rubber skirt, she slid down onto it easily.
Even with my beautiful new wife in the room, I couldn't hold back the gasp of pleasure.
'Come on Sticky. You too.'
Bryony climbed up onto my chest looking down at me and Miss Carter slid her hands round her waist and onto her nipples, teasing them gently. Bryony moaned in to her gag. I moaned too as Miss Carter squeezed my cock with her pelvic muscles.
'Why don't you slide forward, Sticky.' Miss Carter said softly. 'This seat's taken but there's one at the front.'
Bryony wriggled forward sitting her pussy over her my mouth.
'Come along, Michael.' Miss Carter said, squeezing me again. 'She didn't use a ring gag for the aesthetics. No slacking.'
I pushed my tongue into Bryony's pussy tasting warmth and salt and probably my cum from the previous night; she moaned softly like a good girl should.
Miss Carter murmured approvingly and gave me another squeeze.
'I like a good ride in the morning so I was delighted when Bryony invited me to train the pair of you.' She slid up and down my cock, her hands still on Bryony's nipples. 'But I didn't think the two weeks she suggested was nearly enough.' She moved again and squeezed, holding me on the very edge of climax with just her internal muscles. 'And with the couples race in Hamburg in three months I thought I'd enter the pair of you. I'm sure I can get the two you up to fitness by then and then I've still got four months to turn Bryony here into the perfect dressage mare.'
She shifted slightly and my cock spasmed but she didn't let me cum.
'Of course, we'll have to find something for you to do while I'm training her; we can't just have you sitting in the chariot.'
She squeezed again.
I looked up at Bryony. My tongue was buried inside her but I could see up between her thighs, see Miss...Mistress Carter's hands on her breasts playing with the piercings. My new bride was blushing furiously. If I was in any position to do anything, I would have punished her severely. As it was, however, I was chained to her bed enjoying a threesome with my beautiful wife and our new mistress.
What else could I do but lie back and thrust my tongue deeper into Bryony's hot, wet pussy and hope Mistress Carter let me cum soon ?
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