by Penny Birch
Finally, it was over, and Ginny was telling them to stop. She continued to pant and squirm against me for a moment, then subsided with one long sigh. I’d had most of our combined weight on my toes and was exhausted just from her ordeal, but straightened myself and prepared to take it as Amber and Michael came around to my front.
‘Oh, my poor titties,’ I heard Ginny moan from behind me. ‘Thank you, both of you; that was glorious. I’m sorry I called you so many names, too.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ Michael answered her, eyeing my chest as Amber held out her three nettles towards my breasts.
They were quivering, bare and streaked with my sweat, the nipples sticking up, erect and expectant. She moved the stingers back and forwards in front of my face, then, without warning, stroked them across my breasts. I tensed my whole body, but only because I was expecting the same sort of pain you get from a cane stroke.
Instead there was a sort of tickling feeling, a bit like pins and needles and actually rather pleasant. I stuck my boobs out for more as Matthew walked over to watch; Amber brushed them again and sent a second wave of little prickles across my chest. I sighed, wondering what Ginny had made such a fuss over. OK, so her boobs were three times the size of mine and she’d had a whole bunch used on them, but still…
Then the stings started to throb. First gently, like a fingertip massage, then more painfully, with a burning sensation. I moaned out loud, realising that Ginny’s reaction had been perfectly reasonable. Both my breasts were throbbing and burning, feeling incredibly prominent. The sensation was one thing; the extraordinary awareness of one’s breasts was quite another. I clamped my teeth hard on my bit, arching my back and pulling at my bonds as Amber began to tickle each breast with a single nettle. The combination of agony and ecstasy was overwhelming and I knew why Ginny had been begging to come, even as she called her husband every name she could think of. I wanted the same, a hard fist against my pussy to rub my clit on while Amber tormented my boobs.
‘Fist, please, Matthew,’ I said, gasping the words out as I managed to push the bit down onto my chin.
‘Go on, Penny, do it,’ I heard Ginny encouraging me, her voice sounding tired.
He stepped forward and put his hand between my legs, but palm up, not with his knuckles. I tried to rub, getting some purchase but not really enough.
‘The other way!’ I gagged, wondering if I actually had enough energy left to reach orgasm. He turned his fist, but it was too late; I knew I’d never make it. I was in ecstasy, but every movement I made meant pulling Ginny with me. Also, I knew she must be making a big effort not to ask to be let out of bondage until I’d come, which was sweet of her, but I couldn’t really relax while I knew she was hoping I’d get on with it.
‘Red,’ I said finally, and both Amber and Matthew stopped immediately. ‘That’s my lot. I’m sorry. It was lovely, but I just don’t have the energy.’
Amber dropped the nettles and hugged me, Michael and Matthew moved quickly to the knots to let us down.
Two minutes later, Ginny and I were sitting sprawled in the boathouse. Her breasts were red and swollen, far more so than mine, which were just covered in nettle rash. She was squeezing cream on to them from a tube, making a good-sized dollop on each. The expression on her face as she began to rub the cream in was one of absolute, unrestrained bliss; her eyes were shut and her mouth a little open. My own breasts were throbbing and I took the cream, smearing it over them and rubbing it in. As Ginny’s expression suggested, it was bliss.
‘They’ll throb all night, I’m afraid,’ she told me, ‘but you’ll probably want to come at least twice. Here, let me do yours.’
I moved close to her, locking our legs together and reaching out to take her breasts in my hands, even as she did the same for me. Hers were heavy and soft, bigger even than Amber’s and lovely to handle. Mine felt tiny in comparison, but Ginny made no remark and seemed to be enjoying creaming them. It felt more warm and friendly than sexual, sitting in front of her with my legs open and her big breasts in my hands. We were both completely naked, our pussies bare in front of each other and Amber and Michael, Matthew having gone up to the cars to fetch cold beers. It felt completely natural, relaxing and intimate.
I could not have been more off guard. Ginny had begun to giggle under my attention to her boobs and I was starting to wonder if I might not have that orgasm after all. There was a click at the door and we all thought it was Matthew coming back with the beer. I was thinking that he might be feeling a bit pushed aside after I had only let Amber use the nettles and then failed to bring myself off on his hand. To cheer him up a bit, I turned to the door to show off how open and moist my pussy was, only to find myself face to face with a woman I’d never seen before in my life.
We looked at each other for a second and then I hastily closed my legs while she went bright scarlet. Her eyes travelled slowly around the boathouse, taking in Ginny and me — naked and covered in cream and nettle marks. Beyond us there was a pile of discarded pony-girl harness and rope, stinging nettles and bits of nettle leaf strewn across the floor, the other rope hanging from the beam.
Her face was the colour of strawberry jam, her mouth wide open. The towel she had been carrying dropped to the floor. I knew my own face had to be much the same colour and Ginny’s was no better. Amber managed a wan smile, but it was left to Michael to actually say something.
‘Hi… Catherine,’ he managed. ‘I’m, er… afraid you’ve caught us at a bit of an awkward moment.’
That was an understatement, if ever there was one, but it broke the deadlock. I put the tube of cream down and started scrabbling for my clothes. Ginny got up and shrugged to the newcomer, giving an embarrassed smile as she picked up her top.
‘Sorry about this,’ Michael continued. ‘We were… um…’
‘Where’s Matthew?’ the girl asked. ‘And who are you?’
The last question had been directed at me. In the circumstances, I think I did pretty well. I’d never seen her before in my life but, from her presence there and what she’d said, it was quite obvious to me who she was. She, and Michael and Ginny too, obviously felt she had every right to be there but they hadn’t expected her. That meant she was family or at least close. She was of middling build and red-haired, probably not a Linslade or a Scott, and she was younger than I’d have expected Arthur Linslade’s wife to be. Also, the first person she’d asked for had been Matthew. She had to be Matthew’s girlfriend or even his wife.
I’m small and I’ve never pretended to be brave or aggressive or anything. Admitting to being Matthew’s playmate was the last thing I was going to do. She clearly knew Amber and so I took the best way out I could see.
‘I’m Amber’s girlfriend,’ I answered her.
‘Oh,’ she answered in a very small voice. ‘Hi, I’m Catherine, Matthew’s fiancée. Sorry, I didn’t mean to…’
I’d obviously hit the right note. She must have known Amber was a lesbian and was more embarrassed than we were. What she made of her prospective sister-in-law’s behaviour I could only guess at.
‘I thought Matthew would be here,’ she stammered.
‘Look, this is really embarrassing, I’m sorry…’
We might have got away with it if Matthew hadn’t chosen that moment to reappear with the cold-box of beer.
Eight
By the end of the week, I was beginning to cool down a little. I’d felt extremely hard done by, mainly because nobody had told me anything, even Amber. The fact that she hadn’t known that I hadn’t been told about Catherine was the only thing that saved me from being completely furious with all of them. What made it worse was that my quick thinking had saved Matthew from the full force of his girlfriend’s wrath, but I was still the one who ended up on her own and feeling thoroughly used.
Term had ended, leaving me free of having to go into the labs every weekday and so I spent most of the week sitting in my flat. I was wishing Amber would ring and wondering what I would say to her
if she did. I’d been fairly cold to her when I left, but I still wanted her, the more so as my initial anger and resentment began to wane. On Friday I felt so fed up that I almost asked to join a field trip to the Orkneys that the university was organising. Fortunately I didn’t, because Amber rang that evening.
Her tone revealed that she was thinking I might not want anything to do with her, but my own voice betrayed my eagerness before I could even consider a show of being cross. From then on, it was all apology. I agreed to come and see her on Sunday, feeling immense relief and excitement that the whole thing wasn’t over, after all.
I drove up, expecting to be invited either to bed or out to the paddock more or less immediately. Knowing her tastes, I’d put on a demure dress with a silk body and stockings underneath. My harness was in the back of the car and, as I’d packed it, I’d found myself trembling with the desire to be back in Amber’s hands.
When I did arrive, I was surprised to find that she was on the verge of panic. I got the long hug and intimate kiss I’d expected but, instead of letting her hands wander or ordering me into the work room, she asked me to get into my harness to model for a customer.
‘Of course,’ I answered, slightly taken aback by the speed of things.
‘Thanks, darling,’ she answered. ‘Vicky’s ill, and the man’s come all the way from the Czech Republic.’
‘I didn’t know they had pony-girls,’ I remarked.
‘Nor did I. Anderson put him onto me. He’s some sort of businessman, apparently. From the way he was talking on the phone, he wants a huge order. Look, I’m sorry Penny; I’d planned a really nice day for just the two of us. You don’t mind, do you?’
‘No, really.’
‘Thanks, you’re really sweet. Could you get into harness, then? I’ll help, but he’ll be here any minute.’
I followed her into the kitchen and started to undress while she sorted my harness out.
‘According to Anderson, he’s incredibly fussy,’ she told me as I peeled a stocking off. ‘I like your underwear.’
‘I was hoping you’d be helping take it off,’ I replied.
‘I will, later, I promise. Look, put the bridle on while I sort this out.’
She handed me the bridle and I took the bit between my teeth. The rest of the harnessing was done fast and Amber had me tethered in the yard when we heard a car pull up outside the gate. For all her hurry, she hadn’t skimped on the extras and I was feeling a proper little show-off as she composed herself and walked over to the gates. She had pulled my waistbelt in to the maximum and tied it off in a bow, leaving my waist tight and my boobs thrust out. The wrist cuffs were done up behind my back and the reins looped on to a big iron hitching ring. She had joined my ankle cuffs to one another and put my thigh hobble on, leaving me pretty much immobile. There were bells on my nipples and at my cheeks, red ribbon bows tied onto my headstall, smaller bows clipped into my pussy fur and a black rosette attached to my left cheek ring. My little boots completed the ensemble, three inches of heel increasing my helplessness. He had to be impressed. I had seen myself in the double mirrors before coming out into the yard and I knew I looked cute.
I couldn’t see the gates from where I was tethered, but I heard them open and a large, black car drew into the yard, stopping more or less in the middle. My idea of a Czech pony-girl master ran to a sort of Bohemian intellectual: tall, thin, grey-haired, humorous yet stern. I was quite looking forward to being put through my paces by such a person.
The man who climbed out of the car showed me just how unwise it is to have preconceptions. He was small, round and slightly balding, although as he walked over to me his expression did combine amusement and severity.
Amber came up behind him and introduced herself. He responded, calling himself Mr Novak, which I think is rather like calling yourself Mr Smith in England. They exchanged a few pleasantries and then turned to me, Mr Novak eyeing me with an expression more critical than admiring.
‘I would have expected a boy,’ he said to Amber after a while, his English perfect if a little formal. ‘Still, she will do. What is her name?’
‘Calliphigenia,’ Amber answered.
‘A fine choice: a nymph with a fat behind,’ he remarked, quite casually reaching out and stroking my bottom, then taking a handful of one cheek and squeezing. I stayed still, letting him caress my bum and wondering if he had expected a boy because he thought it more appropriate or because he was gay. Bisexual, rather, I corrected myself as his hand slipped under the tuck of my cheeks and bounced my bottom. Amber glanced at me and we exchanged looks while his attention was elsewhere.
‘I see she has been punished,’ he said as he moved around to get a better view of my bottom. ‘Caned, I would guess. Some time last week. Twenty-four strokes, I would say.’
‘Thirty-six,’ Amber answered.
‘Ah, yes,’ he replied, his fingers tracing lines across my skin, presumably on the now fading cane stripes.
‘The tack looks suitable,’ he continued when he had had a satisfying fondle of my bottom, ‘but you should use a harder and thicker grade of leather.’
‘I feel girl’s tack should be soft but strong,’ Amber replied evenly, although I could just imagine what was going through her mind. ‘I can use any grade of leather, within reason, as you prefer.’
‘I am disappointed that she has no tail,’ he said, presumably having accepted Amber’s assertions as to leather types.
‘I was waiting until you arrived to put her tail in,’ Amber replied, lying, I was sure, as she hadn’t mentioned it to me. I had been looking forward to having my tail and was glad to hear that it was ready. Having it put in with Mr Novak watching was a different matter and would be extremely humiliating. I knew that it would make me nice and warm for Amber when he left, though, and decided to take his presence as part and parcel of being Amber’s pony-girl.
‘That will be a good idea,’ he replied and I realised that, while his grammar was perfect, he had no idea whatever of English manners and tact. I had thought the impolite, almost insulting, way he phrased things the result of a high self-opinion and a dominant sexuality. He obviously didn’t know the implications of his choice of phrase, but his attitude was rather in keeping with my fantasies of how a pony-girl should be treated.
He wasn’t good-looking and he wasn’t charming, but he was about to watch my bottom being lubricated and a tail inserted into my anus. My feelings of sexual humiliation rose sharply as Amber unhitched me and walked me over to the door of her workroom. I kept my legs straight and my paces even and just as long as the hobble would allow. Inside, she refastened my ankle cuffs and put my reins over a convenient peg.
I was left to wait while Amber showed various bits of tack to Mr Novak, pointing things out with a large tube of lubricating jelly she had picked up from the desk. I knew exactly where that jelly was going, and the mere thought was enough to have me trembling with expectation.
Finally she opened a drawer and produced my new tail. It was the same glossy, almost black colour as my real hair, in a thick hank some two feet long and tied with a red ribbon at the base. The stem was some six inches of what looked like stiff black rubber, ending in a curve and a conical plug of about the same thickness as a rather skinny cock. She showed him how the stem could be bent and would stay in place, then put the tail down and picked up the jelly tube again.
I watched in awful fascination as she stuck out a finger and laid a long worm of jelly along it, explaining quite coolly why it was important to use water-based lubricant as she did so.
‘Turn. Stick it out,’ she ordered me.
I did as I was told, turning my back to them and pushing my bottom out. Her finger went between my cheeks and I felt the cold lubricant on my anus. I stayed obediently still and quiet as the finger was pushed up my bottom, but couldn’t resist a sigh when she wriggled it around inside me.
‘Stay there,’ Amber ordered as she turned back to Mr Novak and picked up the tail.
&n
bsp; I looked back over my shoulder, watching Amber grease the butt plug. Mr Novak looked thoroughly pleased with himself and I was hoping Amber would make me bend over more in order to complete my humiliation by letting him watch it actually go in.
Sometimes, I thought, she read my mind. When the plug was heavily coated with jelly, she unhitched me and led me to the work bench, bending me over so that my face and chest were pressed against a pile of skins and my bum was high in the air. The scent of leather was strong in my nostrils as I felt her hand slide between my buttocks and ease them open to show him my anus.
I was breathing hard and shivering as Amber touched the tip of the plug to my hole and began to work it in and out, opening me slowly. It felt very like being buggered, only Amber was a lot gentler than any of the men who’d had their cocks in my bottom. I relaxed, letting her fill me with the plug and thinking of what he’d be able to see. I felt my anus stretch to accommodate the thickest part of the plug, then pop shut around the stem, and I knew it was in. Finally, I was wearing my tail, and it felt even better than I had expected.
I stood up and Amber fixed on a belt, consisting of a single strand of nylon line and a popper.
‘Beautiful,’ Mr Novak announced, impressed for once. I had to agree with him. I could see my reflection in a mirror, the tail hanging down over the curve of my naked bum. The way the shaft came up between my cheeks really did make it look as if it projected from the base of my spine, up and then down in a graceful arch, falling below the backs of my knees.
‘You are very pretty, Calliphigenia,’ Mr Novak told me and then turned to Amber. ‘Does she perform as well as she looks? I would like to see her.’