by Sean O'Kane
“Whoo Hoo!” Martha crowed. “Ride her cowboy! Oh Christ! Make her get that tongue up me, the fucking whore!”
Grinning and keeping one hand gripped in the slave’s buttocks to ensure she didn’t unseat him, he worked the whip steadily over the right and left breast, again and again. Presumably some milk was building up again since she had last been emptied because she was clearly very sensitive and gave excellent value, taking both of them for a long and energetic ride. Brian found her roomy inside and very comfortable considering the amount of vigorous movement she engaged in as her huge tits slowly became suffused with red and then began to show the purple stripes that betokened a good thrashing having been taken. However, Martha hadn’t come yet, although she was pushing herself down and grinding herself into the girl’s face, so he continued to make the slave work, lashing her with harsh, regular blows while she keened into Martha’s anus and arched her back up off the bed. Then he saw Martha thrust herself down brutally hard again and again and finally cry out as she slipped sideways. It was enough to push him to the point of no return and he dropped the whip and held the slave’s hips with both hands as he pumped into her limp body and then withdrew.
They decided to lie her across the head of the bed and use her as a pillow afterwards. Martha wanted to nuzzle and stroke the huge tits all night and Brian was too tired to argue. They didn’t need to tie her but did so anyway and they both fell asleep quickly on the warm, yielding breasts and stomach.
The slave must have appreciated her treatment at their hands because she didn’t wake them before the alarm went off on Brian’s phone, even though her tits were tight and obviously full by that time in the morning, but then again it might have been the prospect of a week in solitary that kept her quiet. The stripes from their beating were still in evidence and Martha couldn’t resist palpating them enough to get some squirts out of her but the sherry at that hour made her spit it out.
“Come on, let’s get some breakfast and then we’re being picked up for the Novices’ race,” Brian said as they left the room.
“Do we need to tell anyone we’ve finished with her?” Martha asked as they closed the bedroom door and made their way downstairs.
“No, I expect his Highness will have someone collect her in due course,” Brian said.
The Novice race was run before the heat of the day really got going and the guests were taken to their grandstand seats by car after breakfast. When they saw the standards of Bakhtar flying along the race course, they laughed in delight and Martha was glad she was wearing knickers that day because the sight made a hot tide of excitement flow in her belly.
The strange looking posts that they had seen the previous day were now occupied. Each post – one every twenty yards - bore a naked girl. She was tied with her arms raised and spread to the ends of the crossbar but her weight was taken by a rubber coated spar which stuck out at her crotch. Below that her legs were tied together and her feet were tied behind the upright. Each girl was lovingly inscribed with the shield of Bakhtar and they made a fine sight, living, brightly coloured banners lining the route. But as they watched it became clear that although there was no wind, the banners were moving. The girls’ stomachs were gently rippling as they moved their hips, pushing them forwards and then drawing them back. And as realisation dawned there was more laughter and admiration for the Prince. The spar that supported the girls’ weight had obviously been equipped with a dildo and they were masturbating on it, making the banners seem to move. Even as they arrived at the grandstand, Martha saw one girl arch her back and thrust vigorously at the dildo, her stomach cramping and rippling the shield as she cried out and then slumped for a minute. She cast a look back as she followed Brian and smiled as she saw the girl’s head come up again and she began a slow grinding movement again.
It was going to be a long day for them.
Chapter Fifteen
First port of call was the paddock. It was located behind the grandstand and there was already quite a dense crowd when they arrived but they managed to find somewhere they could see the runners paraded. Peter was keen on a Malaysian entry called KL Pride but Brian hadn’t yet made his mind up. Martha was just enjoying the occasion. Above the colourful crowds the bunting fluttered and the shields of Bakhtar rippled as the girls drove themselves to orgasm after orgasm. Occasionally a cry of relief would go up above the murmur of the crowd but it was ignored. When the doors of the stables were thrown open and the rigs appeared, the crowd surged forwards to the ring. Brian and Peter managed to keep their places however and Martha could see the girls in simple, unadorned leather bridles and harnesses walk past. They varied in size and weight as the Novice class was decided on the length of time a girl had served, girls who might go on to be Hackers or Hunters would race against each other if they had both only served a month or two before the whip. Three months was the maximum allowed before a girl had to be classified as one of the other two classes. Each pony had two sticky labels with her number on them on the front and back of one thigh. Martha knew the harnesses were of a standard decreed by the WPRA. The crupper was unadorned by plug or dildo – they would be broken in to those refinements as they progressed – and the bridle was plain; there were no plumes. Colours were worn as bands on the upper arm of the pony and on the silk of the driver’s jacket.
Frank McNicolls from the Montana stable leaned over to Brian as a Nordic blonde was walked past.
“I’d be obliged if you kept an eye on this one, Brian. I think she might be a candidate for CSL. She’s got talent.”
Brian nodded and marked his card; “I’d be glad to. Number Ten, Prairie Dog,” he said before turning to Martha. “I fancy Number Fifteen; Bright Eyes, owned and trained by the Osman stable. Let’s put a bit on her and some on Frank’s too. You spotted anything you fancy?”
Martha looked at a brunette being walked past them. She was not as tall as the others but had small breasts and well developed thighs – as if she might have been something of an athlete before she was a slave. “I’ll take her!” she said. “Number Thirty!”
Brian consulted his card. “Down and Dirty. I like it! She’s owned and trained by the Davenport Corporation of Toronto. Hmm. You’ll get long odds on her. No one’s seen a private or corporate entry run yet.”
They made their way to a bookie, placed their bets and then took their seats, Martha was clutching a ticket that gave her a hundred to one. The crowd was heading back too as the runners had been called to the start. The grandstand had been built along the start and finish straight at the widest point on the course and only a few of the entries were unable to line up straight across the road, but one rig’s length over a mile wasn’t considered a serious handicap.
When the starting pistol went and the tape was pulled up the noise was deafening. The crowd in the grandstand rose to its feet and the crowds lining the course cheered and waved Bakhtari flags as well. The first Open pony race under the auspices of the WPRA was off and running.
It was a sight that no one had ever seen before, there were forty rigs fighting for position – arena races usually only featured four or six entries – the whips hissed quite audibly as the lengths of whipcord snaked out and started lining the girls’ backs. The steel soles of the boots they wore clattered and scraped on the tarmac as they strained against the weight of their traps and slowly the mass of naked ponies each bearing her colours on her arm, began to stream out into a long procession, the drivers’ jackets making a riot of colour behind them. Towards the rear the rigs were still bunched as they approached the first bend, but up at the front there were already some prepared to make the running. Everyone watched the colourful field until it was out of sight and then turned their attention to the monitor screens.
From a camera mounted on the back of a motorcycle they could watch the leaders from eye level running a few yards behind. It was far closer to the action and much more dramatic than the usual arena races. They saw three rigs contending for the lead swing right at a gentle b
end that could be taken flat out, pound along a straight and then take an easy left hander, still flat out. That brought them to the foot of a slight rise and the whips began to strike again. The ponies’ heads went down as they took the strain and the crowd cheered as the whips began to curl and wrap at breasts that were already swinging as the girls ran.
“Slipshod is just ahead of The Prowler who is one length clear of La Fumeuse,” the PA announced. On the screen the motorcycle had stopped and was allowing the field to stream past. Martha caught a glimpse of Down and Dirty in the middle of the pack.
“The backmarkers are Mercian Finance Climax and Widow’s Peak,” the PA continued as the final two entries went past.
The camera position changed and the whole field could be seen approaching a sharp right hander. As the runners streamed around it they came onto the cobbles for the first time and the drivers let them run wide to lessen the risk of falling. Even so there were some skids and stumbles as the pack flowed around the corner, the drivers hauling back on their reins.
“Slipshod is holding station but Dark Marauder has moved up to fourth. Prairie Dog is lying in fifth,” they were told.
Another motorcycle took over and they were able to look back directly at Slipshod, grimly pounding along the cobbles, being spared the whip for the moment. Behind her they caught a glimpse of Prairie Dog moving out to overtake Dark Marauder. Now as they entered the old city proper, the incline became more testing. Slipshod’s driver went for his whip again and they could see the flicker of the whipcord as it snapped to and fro on her back, then her neat breasts caught two wrapped lashes from right and then left. She threw her head back but picked her pace up and was still leading as she crested the rise and the course began to slope downhill again.
A static camera at the top of the hill got a panoramic shot of the field being strung out by the hill as the rigs made their way up between the old houses. There was a brief close up of one of the living banners rippling spectacularly as the girl orgasmed wildly but the crowd beneath ignored her and cheered the runners on.
The downward slope was gentler than the uphill and the ponies were able to gallop down it at full speed. From a motorcycle camera they were able to be right alongside the flying legs as Slipshod was caught by The Prowler and Prairie Dog eased past La Fumeuse, Dark Marauder seemed to have faded badly. For the second time, Martha caught a glimpse of Down and Dirty running at the head of a breakaway group chasing the front runners.
At the foot of the long slope there was a gentle left hand bend followed immediately by a right hander. Safely through that, they would be back on the tarmac and around one more left hand bend followed by a right turn and they would be back on the finishing straight and onto their second lap.
As they neared the foot of the hill, the drivers began to rein their ponies in and some of the ill-discipline of the Novices betrayed itself in tossing and twisting heads as reins were tightened. The whips snapped more loudly and drivers yelled and cursed some ponies as they wrenched them round and tried to slow them. In the event the whole field came through safely but Slipshod had gone backwards and Prairie Dog was running abreast of La Fumeuse as they both shadowed the heels of The Prowler. Martha began to jump up and down in excitement as Down and Dirty was now showing in fifth behind Twice the Price and Bright Eyes had begun to move through the pack. Now the field streamed past the grandstand in a storm of scraping and clattering shoes, hissing whips and shouted encouragements from drivers and onlookers.
The noise increased as Prairie Dog began an overtaking manoeuvre right in front of the stand and with her driver really leaning into each lash he dealt her, she flowed past The Prowler and hit the next bends a length clear. La Fumeuse and The Prowler were locked together but The Prowler was lathering up and lost ground to let Twice the Price, a small but spirited pony with unusually large breasts for a racer, slip past as they pounded uphill towards the old city for the final time.
“Come on, you lazy cow! Whip the bitch up!” Martha screamed at pony and driver as she saw Down and Dirty pass The Prowler closely followed by Bright Eyes. They skidded onto the cobbles and then the motorcycle camera closed in on the bent heads of the ponies and their lacerated backs as they were driven hard up the hill to the top of the course.
The camera changed again at the crest of the hill and the static lens recorded the saliva dripping ponies, breasts shining with sweat, gasping their way up the final yards under the whips and then letting their strides lengthen as the downward slope gave them some relief. Prairie Dog was holding on well but Twice the Price was closing, and close behind her came Down and Dirty and Bright Eyes, who was now closely followed by Long Comfortable Screw, a tall brunette with a beautifully shaped arse that made Martha’s hands twitch and her belly moisten as she watched it whipped mercilessly by a driver who was clearly intent on a place or nothing.
From the motorcycle camera on the downward slope, they watched Long Comfortable Screw move well out and run close alongside the bike, holding station with Bright Eyes and Down and Dirty. The tactic paid off as her driver lashed her onwards when the others slowed for the bend. As she was already well to the left she was able to hold an almost straight course through the left hand bend and hit the right hand bend almost alongside Twice the Price. The leading four all held their positions until they emerged back onto the finishing straight and to ecstatic and deafening cheers they formed a line abreast in a sprint for the line. Martha clung onto Brian who was himself leaping up and down. Frank McNicolls was pumping his fist and shouting himself hoarse, the PA was completely drowned out and Prairie Dog, losing her shape, her head going back as exhaustion cut in and saliva hanging in thick threads onto her heaving breasts finally lost out in the closing yards to Twice the Price and Long Comfortable Screw. The shorter girl gamely responded to remorseless whipping and held off the challenge from the long legged brunette. Bright Eyes took third from the rapidly tiring Prairie Dog and Down and Dirty came past her in the last few feet to finish a creditable fourth.
It came as an eye opener to the established stables that two of the first four were non-stable owned. Twice the Price was the property of a couple from Newcastle in England who had bought her with the last penny of their savings as the man – a police sergeant - explained to an interviewer in the winner’s enclosure a few minutes later.
“We knew she was bigger titted than she ought to be but she had a look about her we liked,” he said. “And she’s not for sale!” he added as he held aloft the cup and the sizeable cheque while behind him the pony, held by his wife, champed on her bit and tossed her head.
In the car on the way back to the palace everyone agreed that it had been a great success and boded well for the races to be held later in the afternoon. There were two lines of slaves waiting inside the main door of the palace, each with a tray of cool drinks for the guests and when the Prince entered he was greeted by eagerly raised glasses and toasts to the success of the Bakhtar Open. Standing back a little from the enthusiastic crowds, Martha sipped a glass of sherry flavoured girl milk and smiled as she thought of the fun to come later on – and there was still another night of the Prince’s hospitality to enjoy after that. Beside her the slave they had had the night before dispensed some more of her milk and Martha held her glass out to be refilled, stroking the big girl’s arse and back while her tits were massaged and wondering whether she would be as soundly thrashed that evening as she had been the previous one.
After a light lunch and a siesta to allow the main heat of the day to subside a little, the guests all reconvened and were taken back to the racecourse. Martha had slept well despite missing the pillows of tit flesh she had slept on the previous night.
As she had only recently come on the scene, she missed out on a seat in the procession which got the afternoon’s proceedings off to a good start. From up in the grandstand however she got a good view of the line of traps being drawn along the finishing straight. The ponies’ decorations flashed and glittered in the sun as
their smooth thighs rose in choreographed perfection and their plumes nodded. She felt immensely proud as she saw Brian and Peter – with Peter driving – in the fourth carriage behind the Prince himself. The living banners were still providing their colour and eroticism as well, and to judge by the amount of waving in the banners, they had been taken down and put up again and were back on the hunt for pleasure with renewed vigour. For anyone who appreciated all the possibilities for pleasure that slavery afforded, Martha felt, Bakhtar was a great place to be.
When the procession had clattered its way past, she went down to the paddock and waited for Brian and then they put money on the home stable’s entry and a Malaysian arena owner asked him to keep an eye on his entry with a view to possibly sending her to CSL.
“It looks like this trip could well have repaid the air fare already!” he told Martha as they took their seats for the Hacker class.
Even though it was mid-afternoon and the sun was well past its zenith, the heat was still intense. As a result the Hackers were run much more gently for the first three laps than the Novices had been and then the drivers took to the whips in earnest for the final lap. The slightly longer distance showed up those ponies which had never really been conditioned properly and by the time the field came back onto the finishing straight to start the last lap, it was strung out much more than with the Novices. There was a front group of six ponies who were in contention and the amount of whipping they took as they galloped the last half mile, had Martha standing and rubbing herself shamelessly as the crowd cheered the sweating and slathering ponies down the finishing straight for the last time. The winner was a stocky blonde from an American stable who ran without a high leg lift and didn’t seem to be going fast, but it was an efficient pace. She seemed to ignore the volleys of lashes that left her back and buttocks a mass of criss crossing pink welts and kept up her deceptively quick pace while those around her fell away. She finished a clear two lengths ahead of a privately owned and trained entry from Croatia. The third pony finished fast and if she had been better positioned on the run in she could have won. She finished under a blizzard of lashes but with her head steady and her shape still good.