Training a Pony Girl: The Maddy Saga #2

by Paul Blades

  After the ponies were rubbed down on a special table set up by the slave girl while they were exercising, they were showered and fed. The rub downs were done by Vadym himself. His strong hands carefully teased their muscles, churning the blood in them, popping out any knots. Their hands were unhitched from behind their backs and chained to the top of the table and their collars were removed so that Vadym could get at their backs and necks. He finished each session by dipping his head between their widespread thighs and slowly and softly caressing them to climax with his lips and tongue. Their bodies would be so relaxed that when they came, it was more of a mesmerizing throb of delight, which made their bodies tremble, rather than an earth shattering orgasm.

  After dinner, the ponies were left to sit and play with one another. They were permitted to lean against one another and use their thighs to rub each other's pussies. The slave girl would stroke them to orgasm several times. On alternate nights, one of them would be allowed to suck Vadym's cock to orgasm, kneeling between his legs as he sat in his comfortable folding chair. Maddy loved the feel of his cock in her mouth and would prolong and delay his climax until he could stand it no more and pushed her head down on his throbbing pole, plunging it into her throat.

  Vadym never fucked them and the ponies missed having their lower orifices filled. But when he was happy with their training day, he would have the slave girl spread a blanket on the grass, remove the ponies' gags and let them kiss and pleasure each other. He would sit and smoke while Maddy and Persephone, lovers who had never seen each other's faces, dipped their heads between each other's thighs and brought each other to pleasure. Persephone had a long, active tongue and she would tickle Maddy's clit while Maddy lay on her back with her legs spread. And then she would push her tongue deep within her slit, drawing moans and sighs from her partner. Although their mouths were ungagged while they enjoyed their reward, neither pony ventured to utter one word, so used had they become to the prohibition and so unhappy they would have been to incur their driver's displeasure.

  None of the other trainers or drivers were allowed to touch the racing ponies during the season. Grobgy would lend a few of the house slaves to the trainers during this period and would rent a few more from a nearby brothel to satisfy their carnal needs. Those girls would get a taste of pony life, as they were held in the otherwise empty pony stalls, gagged and hooded, when not in actual use.

  And there were the house ponies, the ones used for pleasure and mere transportation. They would always know when pony racing season had started by the dramatic increase in their sexual activity.

  During the ten days before the first race, Grobgy came by twice to the little trailer park to review his racing stable. He was at the rail at the track daily, timing ponies, watching their handling. Maddy cringed when she saw him for it was a stark reminder that she was still his property. She did not know when she would actually race, how long the season would last or anything about their schedule. But she knew that sooner or later she would be back in the pony barn. The way that her owner looked at her as she knelt before him as he talked to Vadym told her that someday soon he would take a more physical possession of her. She feared the fierce looking bandit and his deadly cold black eyes.

  And she feared the lady who she assumed was his daughter, the one who had cruelly egged her trainer on to abuse her. She watched the ponies on an almost daily basis as well. Once she had come to the camp. Her eyes remained glued to Maddy as she laughed and joked with Vadym.

  And then there was her trainer, the man she thought of as her master. While he did not make an appearance, he was almost always present in her mind. He had treated her brutally the last time she had seen him and she had no reason to believe that he was not waiting for her, biding his time to bring her more punishing torment for sins that she did not know that she committed.

  Finally, it was the night before the first match. The opposing racing team had arrived during the day in their trailers and trucks. There was a large camping area set aside for them. Maddy saw the ponies from the other team cruising the track in the late afternoon, getting used to its footing. Their hoods were bright red and their carriages were decorated similarly. They looked strong and confident. Maddy's stomach grew queasy as she worried how well she and her sister pony would perform.

  That night there was a huge banquet at the mansion. Opening day was the event of the season and people had come from miles around. The ponygirls of both teams had been installed on either side of the long driveway, tethered to posts, wearing their racing hoods, red team on the right and yellow and gold on the left. It was a little before dusk on this mid-May evening when the guests started to arrive. A long line of dark limousines and black Mercedes edged its way from the distant main road to the front steps of the mansion. Some of the guests arrived on pony carts of their own, all bedecked with finery, and much fanfare was made of them.

  The passengers and drivers leaned out of their windows to gawk at the naked ponygirls. Torches had been set into the ground on tall poles and one of Grobgy's minions came down the line lighting them. The ponies were tethered by the back of their collars to the posts and their ankles were set wide apart and connected to steel rings hammered into the ground. The result saw them posed as if a still life, with their legs apart and their shaven sexes and pierced loins exposed. Their masters' logos could be seen prominently displayed on their stomachs.

  The red team belonged to a gangster originally from Minsk. He had looted several of the major banks established after the fall of the former Soviet Union and now he collected ponygirls and served as a banker for many of the underworld schemes that sprung up in this Wild West type nation. His loans were backed up by the enforcement powers of one of the more lethal and powerful clans. If you owed money to Pieter Njinsky, you paid him.

  Njinsky had adopted the wolf as his herald. It was a brilliant design with red fangs and a gray and brown fur coat. His motto was emblazoned beneath the fearsome engraving, "Fortes Fortuna Juvat - fortune favors the bold." His team had not raced here before and this was the first chance that many of the guests had had to see his trademark tattoo up close. They rubbed their hands across the bellies of the nervous ponies and made appreciative remarks.

  The names and specialties of the ponies, i.e. sulky, phaeton, pony cart, et cetera, as well as their nationality and "birthdate", meaning their date of acquisition, were printed on a cardboard sign implanted in the ground next to them. Many of the guests remarked on Maddy's recent conversion from human being to pony and wondered if she would "have what it takes" to run well the next day. Persephone had been a ponygirl for five months, having been converted in December of the prior year. Both of the other team's yearlings had been taken in January.

  Training for Grobgy's ponies during the winter months took place in a huge indoor facility outside the capital. There were several around the nation, and ponygirls were lodged there for the winter months. While there, they received regular attention, both by way of exercise and of sexual use. Persephone had begun her training there months before Maddy had come to Grobgy's estate, but Maddy had been a quick study and, it was generally agreed, was ready to be raced.

  There was a long cocktail hour before dinner and the guests leisurely walked the line of hooded, faceless ponygirls mounted along the driveway, drinks in hand, admiring their qualities. Maddy was appallingly embarrassed to be thus displayed before the clearly wealthy and sophisticated crowd. She could see them, dressed in the best summer fashions, through the small holes of her hood as they passed by. Some would stop in front of her and talk about her as if she were not human and couldn't hear. She couldn't understand what they said, but it seemed horribly strange to her that so many people could blithely accept her reduction to an owned beast without qualm. It also served to remind her of something that she had somehow forgotten: there was an entire world outside the limits of the estate on which she was being held prisoner, a world of cars and parties and pretty dresses, a world where women roamed free.
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  She reddened as a young girl, not more than twenty, accompanied by her older lover, approached. She was clearly impressed with Maddy's nose ring and labial piercings. She was dressed in a frilly white dress with short sleeves and a deep, plunging neckline. She had pleasant, round breasts, and the sides of them could be seen quivering as she talked excitedly with her older companion. She had long, bare arms and dangled a cigarette out of one hand and held a drink in the other. Maddy couldn't remember the last time that she had had hands.

  The young girl laughed and joked with her friend, a well dressed middle aged man. Maddy wondered if she was a whore. The girl must have sensed Maddy's approbation because she stepped up to her with a frown. Handing her drink to her friend and discarding her cigarette, she ran her hands over Maddy's breasts and pulled at her nose ring. "Amerikani molyna," Maddy heard. She had said her name. The young girl leaned over and whispered in her ear in heavily accented English, "See you tomorrow ponygirl." She laughed and walked away.

  It was strange for Maddy to hear English spoken after all these weeks. It reminded her that she did in fact have a language and that she once spoke many times in a single day. And it reminded her that she was not always a naked, shaved beast fit for display to the decadent rich. She became self conscious of her nakedness. Unconsciously, she tried to move her feet together, but the binding on her ankles held firm. She realized that her name and nationality must be on the placard planted next to her. She wondered what other information it contained. Was there any chance that someone who saw that a young American girl was being held prisoner as a ponygirl would contact someone? At once Maddy realized the impossibility of that. No one who was a threat to these people would be invited to a party where the ponies were so brazenly displayed. It was a sign of her owner's indifference to the consequences that he would put her nationality on a sign next to her.

  For the first time in a while, Maddy felt lonely and abandoned. Tears formed in her eyes, tears that no one would see since they were blocked by her hood. She yearned to be back at the trailer where life was simpler and she could forget that she was once named Madeline Bertman and that a cruel, strange fate had befallen her. She wanted life to be normal, to be next to her blond tailed lover and the kindly slave girl. She wanted to be on her knees between her driver's legs, his cock in her mouth, blocking out everything else around her.

  Although touching of the ponies was discouraged, more than one woman, dressed languidly in a long, light summer gown, had tickled her nether lips until she became moist. They looked into her eye holes, seeking some reaction from the featureless creature. When she moaned in the preliminary stage of sexual excitement, they would laugh and walk away. One man, obviously already drunk, stepped up and kissed her nipple, taking it between his lips and sucking on it hard. His girlfriend pulled him away, her laughter covering her embarrassment.

  Maddy stood out on the driveway until the dinner bell was rung at 8 p.m. Grooms from the estate came to collect the ponies. They were led to their trailers where their drivers were waiting. The ponies were fed and watered and their other needs seen to. Maddy and her sister pony were left hitched to the rear of the trailer. This seemed unusual to Maddy since by now she was usually getting set in for the night.

  After standing for about an hour, she saw her driver emerge from the side of the trailer and that he was outfitted in a bright yellow satin shirt that buttoned up along the side of his chest. He wore shiny blue pants and had a yellow and blue cap on his head. He greeted his ponies with tender caresses of their breasts while the slave girl applied their harnesses. Maddy wondered if the races were going to start this very night, for she could think of no other explanation for being set in her harness at this dark hour. In addition to their harness, the slave girl mounted tall blue and yellow feathers to their hoods.

  When she and Persephone were harnessed in place, Vadym took the reigns and urged them softly forward. He steered them towards the track where a line of red and yellow and blue carriages were waiting. The night lights of the track were on.

  Dinner was over at about 9:30, and the guests were all invited down to the race track for champagne and dessert. White gloved servants handed out glasses of champagne while naked slave girls carried trays of pastries and cookies. While not invited to the banquet, the trainers and stable boys, grooms and other workers whose jobs revolved around the ponygirls, were invited to partake in the merriment at the track. Drabik wandered through the crowd aimlessly. He abjured the flinty champagne and yearned for a shot of hot vodka. He saw Anya flirting with a tall handsome guest wearing a finely tailored tuxedo. He would make her pay for that, he thought. Since the night he had taught her to throat fuck, their sessions together had become more and more outré. He always brought something to tie her hands with, and she now had learned to service his cock from her knees, hands bound behind her, drinking down every drop of cum that he spilled.

  There was a flare from a trumpet and the guests hurriedly found their seats in the grandstand. Grobgy and Nijinsky and their most honored guests sat in the reviewing box. A brass ensemble had been playing and now they approached a set of microphones. After a moment's pause, they broke out into a long, excited flourish and then began to play a brilliant, Soviet era march.

  The flourish was the signal for the patiently awaiting drivers. The lead ponies were started and the column of red and blue and yellow bedecked carriages began to slowly crawl towards the track. They entered the track on the far side, phaetons first, and they commenced a slow steady pace around it. The crowd was in great humor as the brightly decorated ponygirls drew the carriages expertly towards them. When the lead carriage, drawn by four beautiful, large breasted ponygirls entered the stretch, the crowd became excited. The lead set of ponygirls was from Grobgy's team as he was the host of the meet. When the ponies reached the beginning of the grand stand, their driver snapped their reigns and they began a stylish canter, knees raised high, each step deliberate and precise. Their breasts bobbed and weaved as they marched, the lights gleaming off of their black boots, their plumes waving in the wind. As the phaetons passed the reviewing box, the drivers doffed their caps and saluted the owners and their special guests.

  After the four ponied phaetons came the four ponied chaises. The chaises by rule contained a driver and passenger. Their combined weights were strictly governed by regulation. They were not as fast as the phaetons, but required twice as much strength to pull. Following the phaetons were the troikas, each carriage sporting a trio of finely trained ponies. Each set of ponies cantered jauntily for the benefit of the crowd. Cheers went up as each carriage began its demonstration of its ponies' discipline, training and skill. The fact that naked, servile females who had been stolen from their homes and stripped of their humanity were prancing before them, their graceful, well trimmed bodies and their gorgeous naked breasts displayed for all to see, was not lost on the excited crowd.

  Grobgy was beside himself with pride, pride of ownership and pride of his own exalted status. He had licked the boots of many of his superiors in the Soviet security apparatus. Later he had shot some of them. All had seemed lost when the red Army tanks refused to crush the defenders of the Russian White House that day years ago. Within months the Soviet Union had dissolved and the Communist Party of the Soviet Union was banned. It took two more years of maneuvering and intrigue, but with the Yeltsin counterrevolution of 1993, Grobgy and his former KGB friends were back on top. Ministries were handed out like soda pop and the right to control factories and industries often grew out of the barrel of a gun. That was a sea he could swim in and, in a few years, he had amassed a huge fortune. Unfortunate interference by so called reformers had mandated his dejure banishment from the new Russian Republic, but the new, or even newer, sovereign nation of Kalikastan provided a safe haven, and since then his defatco control of power and money inside his former homeland continued.

  He watched with self satisfaction as every other cart was pulled by servile former women owned by him. He h
eld the power of life and death over them and their sister slaves who populated the great house. And he carried that power over many others who would perish if their conduct compromised one of his 'projects'. Through assassins like Drabik, he was able to project his will deep into Russia and other neighboring countries. Lenin had electricity and the soviets as the basis for Bolshevik power. He had cash and bullets.

  Maddy and Persephone followed the troikas. The nine ponied coaches did not parade since most of their teams were already marching with other rigs. They had been practicing their cantering for several days. It had been learned weeks earlier at the point of a 2" round cane. Now they proudly lifted their knees in unison and began their studied gait past the grand stand. The excitement of the moment was not lost on them. In a world where their ability to forecast future events was virtually nil, to know what tomorrow would bring was a new experience. Tomorrow was race day, and as Maddy cantered in unison with her sister pony past their owner's reviewing box, her breasts heaving on her chest, her heart pounding in her ears, she yearned for success.

  Last to proceed past the reviewing box were the sulkies. Each team carried two sulkies, one for the 1500 meters and the other for the 3000. A pony needed speed for the first and speed and strength for the second. While some aficionados of the sport value the 1500 meter sprint as the gold cup race of the sport, those with a true knowledge of the fundamentals of pony racing treasure the swift endurance needed for the 3000. It was for this reason that the 3000 meter sulkies closed the parade and for this reason that the 3000 was always the last race of the day. The best was saved for last.

  A pony that could pull a 3000 meter sulky at a world class pace was a true rara avis. Scouts were at work all over the western world looking for the right young female who might become a 3000 meter champion. Grobgy's 3000 meter sulky was a former long distance runner for UCLA. She had not been eminently successful as a long distance runner, for although she had the endurance, she did not have the speed. But Grobgy's scouts knew that foot speed alone meant little when you were hauling a 100 lb. carriage and a 90 to 100 lb, rider. One look at her in the University's weight room had sold them. In her junior year, she was invited to participate gratis in a summer physical fitness program in Finland. The brochure and web site made it seem so enticing, and it included a two week tour of European capitals, all expenses paid, plus scholarship money for her senior year. It was an offer that she should have, but could not, pass up. She was met at the airport at Helsinki by a friendly limousine driver. An hour later she was across the Russian border.