by Sean O'Kane
As soon as she had level ground under her, her reins were eased off and on her own back and on those of the ponies around her she felt and heard the whips again. The tyres of the rig behind her allowed it to bump over the stones behind her without too much effort and soon she was splashing up the far bank between ranks of cheering spectators. The gradient was quite testing and she was panting as she crested the slope and trotted off across a wide meadow, heading for woods. There was a wide swathe of mown grass and they kept to this to make it easier to pull the rigs. Sophie settled in behind some others, her driver obviously content to let things take their course for the moment. Cross country races were always longer than track races and called for different tactics.
Once in the shade of the woods the track took several sharp turns between shrubs with sharp thorns and the drivers had to make precise manoeuvres to avoid their ponies being damaged. When they emerged, Sophie saw another meadow stretching out ahead of them with another broad swathe of mown grass for a track. She made an attempt to pull, eager to pass a couple of the rigs ahead but was reined back in hard and whipped again across her thighs. She normally responded well to the whip being applied to that region, it usually meant sex wouldn’t be far away, but she didn’t like the irritation she felt from the driver and accepted the pain as due punishment. She made a real effort to leave it to him and be obedient, but it still irked her that she knew she could go so much faster.
However at the far end of the meadow she saw why he had held back, the track ended in a water hole used by the ranch’s cattle. A great sea of rich brown mud spread out between the ponies and a small stream. Out in the grassland, it was hard mud; sun dried, but under the trees the drivers had to pick their routes across to avoid becoming bogged down. Sophie’s driver picked a line that took them close to the tape that held the spectators back and they made it with only a few jerks on the sulky’s wheels and with Sophie’s feet only sinking in to the ankle. Then they were in the cold water of the stream and the track, marked out by flags on poles, was taking them along the stream bed. Sophie’s feet slithered and slipped on the stones that lay a few inches deep in the clear water and her driver kept her reined in until, a hundred yards on, the track, in a gentle climb on their right, turned off from the stream. Wet from mud, water and spray, Sophie was glad to get back out in the sun and equally glad to be whipped up to a run as the track joined a tarmac road. Once the wheels were safely on the blacktop, she was whipped up again and eased past two more rigs before the road section ended and a grass track took them back into woodland. But it was still broad enough and straight enough for overtaking. Sophie plunged ahead when she saw another rig just exiting the woods ahead of them as they entered it, but again her head was wrenched back and she was made to hold station. Still struggling against the restraint and with her head raised back and twisting they trotted down a slope and back onto tarmac. Still champing at her bit she was trotted along until being steered right again and finding herself crossing the car park in front of the house itself. From there the track left the car park as a narrow lane between ranks of spectators all cheering and shouting as each rig passed. From there they had to go straight down broad terraces on the lawn. The track was marked out clearly and ran directly down the terraces. The slopes were steep and grassy and the level terraces were only just wide enough for a rig and pony to stand on. As they approached, her driver slowed her almost to a walk and let her get one glance down the three slopes and the two terraces. It was the fiercest obstacle she had ever encountered and she baulked at it for a second, but three savagely hard cuts across her buttocks as her head was dragged back so she couldn’t see down the terrifying slope calmed her. And with the whip transferring its attentions to her breasts, she cautiously stepped down, digging her heels in.
She was terrified that at any moment she would feel a foot give way and she would be propelled helplessly down the slope with the weight of the sulky about to topple over onto her. But having the bit wrenched to the back of her mouth and being only able to see blue sky from between her blinkers did actually calm her and she made the first slope, but was only able to take one step forwards on the level before the next slope began. Once again she leaned backwards and dug in her heels, staring at the sky as her driver just tapped her back with the whip to urge her on carefully. Again there was only one step on the level and then the third slope had to be negotiated. She made it down and realised that once again, after a short space, the track was a narrow defile between the spectators who were applauding loudly as the rig made it. Immediately they were safe, Sophie felt a succession of hot, stinging lashes across her shoulders, followed by two that wrapped her and struck across her breasts again. She was required to speed up and for a couple of hundred yards they ran between the ranks of the crowd and then they were back into the open and before she knew it she was being reined back to negotiate the bank that led down to the ford across the river. That had been just the first lap and Sophie realised this could be the most testing race she had ever been entered for. Gritting her teeth around her bit she ducked her head as she felt the whip spur her up the opposite bank and out into the country again.
Wilbur stood with his hands in his pockets and watched as White Lightning made it down the terraces. She was lying third and well placed with three more laps to go. His other entry was lying eighth and he had hopes the Pretty Pony ranch might get two podium places at the end of the day.
“That blonde sure is a fine creature, Mr Floyd.” The voice belonged to one of his best customers; a banker from New England. “You could name your own price in the sale ring for her – especially if she does well today.”
“I do not sell my ponies, Walter,” he replied. “Indeed I do not.”
“Pity, with the Open Classics starting up soon, it’ll be a seller’s market,” Walter persisted.
Wilbur pretended not to hear and gazed out across the meadow as Lightning was whipped on towards the starting line and the river. I do not sell my ponies, he repeated to himself. At least, not up until now.
The second lap was fairly uneventful and her driver just kept her moving comfortably. On one of the meadow stretches a rig did try to come from behind but Sophie was given her head for once and joyfully she lengthened her stride under the lash and they saw the challenge off easily. When they came to the terraces, again she was slowed almost to a walk and again her head was wrenched back and the whip drove home the message that she was to be careful. However, by the time she was leaning forwards and powering her way up the far bank of the river and setting off into the country again, something very odd began to happen inside her. Slowly a heat was building inside her. Deep in her entrails, right at the top of her rectum in fact. It was a stinging, itching sensation that was maddening and agonising without being frightening, but which – as it grew in intensity – left Sophie entirely convinced that she had to get that tail out of her bottom as fast as possible. Hardly realising what she was doing she broke straight into a gallop as she crested the rise and set off across the meadow.
From somewhere her mind dredged up a memory of Martha. It had been a drunken Sunday afternoon and they had both been naked all day. Martha had suggested freezing some fruit juice into cubes – the wine was too good to waste! – then had Sophie push them up her vagina and when they had melted she had licked Sophie dry as the sticky stuff oozed out of her.
Dimly, as she panted and ran and tossed her head in protest at the pain, she realised they had stuffed something up her that had been released by the melting ice. However, knowing what had been done to her didn’t help at all. She just had to get the harness off fast. For once her driver seemed content and she only received light strokes as she ran and the reins stayed loose. For nearly the whole of the third lap they ran in isolation with only the occasional whimper from behind her bit as the inferno raged inside her. But as they neared the house again they came in sight of two more rigs and Sophie felt her driver pick up the reins again and the whip scythed across her shoulder
s. She picked up the pace and was nearly alongside one of the rigs as they crossed the car park. But the other driver had seen them coming and Sophie saw the whipcord flick through the air and lash the sweat-gleaming back in repeated figure of eight patterns. Immediately the pony speeded up and before Sophie could react they were into the narrow channel between the spectators. Now all Sophie could see was the back of the rig and the back of its driver’s head. Then they were out in the open and Sophie was wrenched to the left and whipped hard across her bottom and back just as she was slowing for the terraces. The reins were loose and she looked down at the slopes before her as she drew alongside the other rig. The pony was dripping saliva onto her heaving breasts and squealing around her gag. Sophie just had time to wonder what had been rammed up her backside when she had to decide whether to defy her driver or to attempt the slopes at the speed he wanted. With her guts on fire, walking was not an option and helplessly she plunged downwards, but this time could see where she was going. It was too fast! The level ground was coming up to meet them and the weight behind her was pushing down her too hard. Then at the last moment her head was wrenched back and the driver took control again. Somehow she managed to dig her heels in to stop the headlong plunge and when her leading foot slammed down onto the level ground she managed to brace herself against the weight of the sulky behind her. Then she was off again – slipping this time as she plunged down – but once more her leading leg was strong enough to keep her upright against the weight of the sulky plunging down behind her, and then again she was in headlong flight and being desperately hauled back, both at the same time. But this time she got the hardest whip yet right in the middle of her plunge. It made her arch her back and twist her torso in pain and shock and before she knew it she was down and running on level grass again and her ears were filled with wild cheering. Dazedly she realised that they had actually overtaken another rig on the descent and the final savage whipping had made her jump for the last few feet and land far enough out onto the flat to land running instead of stumbling.
Now there was just the one rig well ahead of her and the awful fire in her entrails to worry about.
Wilbur was smiling broadly as he climbed into his golf buggy to go and watch the ponies through the mud for the final time. That driver had done a fine job! And to grandstand like that! Flinging the girl down the terraces and even overtaking on them – right in front of the crowd…that was style! That video would go round the world! And the world would come knocking on his door – and for once that door would be open. A quick sale and rid of her was what he needed now and Walter had been right; it was a seller’s market and he had the best merchandise in the whole place.
The lead pony – from a stable in Wisconsin – had been a chestnut when the race had started but sweat had darkened her hair to black as she approached the mud for the final time. She wasn’t as tall as Lightning but she ran compactly and smoothly. Wilbur watched her pound across the grass towards the mud and noticed the driver wasn’t having to use too much whip. Saliva trailed from around her bit but that was to be expected. As she approached, the driver hauled back on the reins, making her toss her head and causing dew drops of sweat to spray from her. Then, with her speed under control and with the rumble of the wheels and the jingling of the harness becoming louder as the rig approached, she was steered deep into the churned up morass which by now offered no easy ways through. And as soon as the pony had her footing she was whipped up again. With her feet squelching in the rich ooze which sprayed up to her knees as she struggled through and the driver lashing her mercilessly, the crowd relished the spectacle and cheered as the sulky wallowed and slowed dangerously at one point but then pulled clear and splashed into the stream. No sooner had the chestnut disappeared upstream than the palomino was pounding across the grass towards them and Wilbur watched closely.
Lightning was still eating up the ground with her long stride but the driver was having to use plenty of whip as they made up ground on the leader. And as the noise of her approach became louder and Wilbur could see the wide-eyed distress in her eyes as her ass burned her, he realised that the driver was going to go for broke again. He was quick enough to move back, but not everyone was and there were squeals and shrieks of laughter as the pony was lashed into trying to cross the morass at a full gallop. Thick gobbets of slime and mud sprayed everywhere as her feet and the wheels churned the muck up. She crossed nearly half of it in one stride, then stumbled dangerously before her speed and strength helped her regain her balance and she was through with the sulky skidding and wallowing behind her. Then, in another spray of clear water and with her palomino tail, now heavy with mud swinging behind her, she was off upstream and after the leader, having gained precious seconds on her.
Sweat was beginning to blind Sophie now and her back and buttocks stung viciously as it ran into the welts but still the whip fell on her relentlessly and her guts burned and stung as well. All she cared about was ending the torment and yet her legs were still strong so she pounded blindly across the meadow, responding only to the reins as her vision failed and her eyes added their sting to the symphony of pains engulfing her. Suddenly she felt hard tarmac under her feet and her driver yelled at her and whipped her harder. She blinked and shook her head and caught a glimpse of a pony a few yards ahead. With her reins loose and the whip tormenting her she was free to run at her own limits and not the driver’s. She gritted her teeth around her bit and headed for the cool of the woods, making it as she eased past the chestnut. But it took almost the whole length of the woods to get past and Sophie was hurting too much to think about what that meant as the ponies thundered along the road almost dead level, sweat and saliva flying from them and the whips snapping at thighs, breasts and backs – the drivers not caring about any subtle messages now. It was a dash for the line with the ponies nearly out on their legs and only the whips would keep them going.
Prince Hassan sat forwards in his chair, transfixed by the hologram he was watching. The two mud-spattered ponies, the life sized image of the palomino ahead by barely a length as they neared the ranch house filled one end of the Evening Office in his city palace. As usual at this time of the day and in this place, he was naked. His chair was a naked, kneeling slavegirl. He was seated on her back as she knelt on all fours crossways behind him. She was steadied by a bar that ran across her stomach and by two horizontal arms that came off the upright which supported her stomach brace. One arm curved round her bottom and ended in a butt plug and was plunged between her buttocks and the other curved round her face and ended in a penis gag which was stuffed into her mouth. The upright also carried on up to the height of five feet and supported the chair’s back. It was formed from another slavegirl, she was standing with her legs well spread and fastened to a spreader bar beside the kneeling girl. She was also tied to the upright. Her arms tight behind it and her head pulled back and tied with a gagging strap to the same upright, steel pole. This meant that if the Prince leaned back his head would be cushioned comfortably by her breasts – and her own head would not get in his way.
But he was unlikely to lean back just yet. The race was too exciting and close. The ponies were now beginning to lose their shape and their heads were going back and rolling as they ran. They were halfway across the car park now and the chestnut had been lashed into coming back at the palomino. But she couldn’t get past before the track narrowed and she had to drop behind.
There was only one thing her driver could do now – and he did it. On the terraces he pulled out from behind the palomino and gave the chestnut her head down the terraces. The other driver did the same and the two slid and slithered down the first slope and both stumbled with exhaustion as the sulkies pushed them onwards as they staggered onto the level. Helplessly they were propelled onto the second slope with the drivers hanging onto the reins for dear life and savagely pulling back to save themselves if the ponies slipped and fell. Somehow they both made it down and both had the strength to keep their feet under them as the
sulkies bore down on them and then they were pushed onto the third slope.
The chestnut gave a despairing whinny as she hit the bottom and her legs wouldn’t support both her and the weight of the rig anymore. She stumbled forwards and fell onto her knees as she hit the level ground. The crowd gasped and then yelled her on as she bravely managed to stagger up again but had to start from stationary and the palomino – herself staggering for a pace or two – made it safely and was away and clear on the run in for the tape.
The Prince clapped his hands in delight. It was the best race he had seen in ages and he slapped his seat’s rump and shoulders in excitement and pleasure. But as he watched the palomino’s owner hold her bridle while her butt plug was removed and she tossed her head and drooled onto the gleaming mounds of her sizeable breasts and gasped after the last frantic gallop, he became thoughtful and sat back. His head sank gently into the soft cushions of titflesh he had had hormonally created for the girl, specifically for this purpose. He thought for a few moments before reaching for his phone, which was resting on the back of another slavegirl who was also on all fours.
“Selim,” he said, when it was answered. “What’s the time in Texas?”
He listened for a second. “Meet me in the Day Office in quarter of an hour. We have work to do!” he said.
He stood up and stretched before wandering over to yet another slavegirl. This one was kneeling up, tied to a frame and with only her head – half encased in a leather hood, able to move. He let his still-soft cock brush her lips and then watched as they gently parted to let him in and he sighed as he felt her tongue begin to play around his helm and his meatus. As he hardened under her ministrations and filled her mouth, she concentrated on taking him further in, nodding her head back and forth along his shaft until he was fully erect and she softly swallowed him into her throat. He groaned and began to thrust in earnest, his hands gripping her head tightly as he came.