by Penny Birch
‘Could you just take a couple of close-ups of that for my album?’ I asked Henry, a suggestion that made Ginny squirm until I told her to keep still.
As he backed away, I hefted the tawse over her naked vulnerable bottom, then brought it around in a full arc to land across her seat with a meaty smack. She jumped and squealed, her bum bouncing and wobbling prettily. The tawse had left a broad red mark across her bum, which I inspected before standing back for the second stroke. The onlookers were quiet, concentrating on Ginny’s beating, each taking their own pleasure in the spectacle.
After the second stroke, Ginny was panting faintly from the beating and beginning to pull her back in and tense her buttocks rhythmically from the effect of the vibrator. I knew how she felt, exposed, punished and teased all at once but unable to come, an exquisite torment that would put her on a sexual high for the rest of the day.
As the third stroke smacked down on Ginny’s plump posterior there was the sound of a car horn from the direction of the gate. I stopped, waiting while Michael went to investigate and returned with Anna Vale and Poppy. This meant that Ginny had five minutes just stuck there with the vibrator running and, by the time they had got out of the car, she was writhing her bottom from side to side and begging to be allowed to come.
I ignored her, greeting Anna with a peck on each cheek and Poppy with a kiss on the lips. Anna was in a uniform; WRAF, I think, from about 1940. This was very neat and bore an officer’s insignia, giving her a cool, commanding look. Poppy had on a light summer dress that showed her legs in the bright sunlight. For an instant the wind blew it against her bottom, showing an outline that told me she was pantyless underneath. Anna smiled to the women and gave the men formal nods as she walked across the yard, Poppy following.
Of course, the scene was exactly what Anna would have expected to see. The ultra-dominant Amber Oakley strapping some remorseful female across the bare bottom while the others looked on respectfully. The real Amber had agreed to maintain the deception until lunch, so that was how long I had to seduce Anna into submission. After lunch, I was due a punishment that would destroy any illusions she had about me being untouchably dominant.
Strapping Ginny was a good start and, as I returned my attention to her bottom, I noticed that Anna took care to stand where she got a view directly between Ginny’s legs. It takes concentration to apply a tawse properly, so I gave Ginny her fourth smack and then went round to talk to her and stroke her cheek. I know how good it feels to have the person who’s punishing you come and soothe you in between strokes, and that was mainly what I was doing. It also gave me a chance to watch Anna. She looked cool and poised, an officer observing a just and necessary punishment, but in my mind I was already rolling the tight skirt up to inspect her underwear.
I gave Ginny two more, both hard enough to make her bottom wobble and draw a gasp from her lips. I then took her around the waist and fucked her with the vibrator until she was once more begging for her orgasm. It was nice watching it slide in and out. Her pussy was soaking and took the thick shaft easily, while the little probe forced her bum-hole open with each push. The little ring would tense, then open to the pressure and reluctantly admit the rubber finger.
I was considering trying to fit the main shaft in her anus when she started to call ‘Amber’ and I realised that I really had taken her to her limit. I turned the vibrator off and pulled it gently out, then hurried round to talk to her. I knew she was all right when she gave me a big happy smile, so I kissed her and offered her the vibrator to suck. She took it, savouring her own juices with her eyes shut as I fed it in and out.
That was it; I had no intention of letting her come, but instead took the vibrator away and unclipped the stocks. She had to wait while I released her from the leg-spreading pole, but I got a lovely warm hug when she was free. Everyone clapped when we started to kiss, with Ginny’s leg up so that her hot pussy was against my thigh. I broke away and sent her to Michael with a smack on the bottom, bowing to the crowd as she snuggled into his arms.
Our little show had put everyone in just the right mood, myself included. Whether anybody else was scheming quite as much as I was, I doubted. From her previous behaviour when she’d been really turned on, I knew Anna would enjoy submitting to me, if she could only justify the act in her own mind. Once she made that all-important initial gesture I was sure she’d be mine, and, if the intensity of Amber’s passion in similar conditions was anything to go by, the results should be spectacular. Then again I could always cheat…
As Amber announced that Henry was now taking challenges for racing, I sidled over to where Vicky was getting into her pony-girl gear. Anderson was across the yard, talking to Michael and Ginny, so Vicky asked me to help her.
She was already naked, and I kissed her and squeezed one firm buttock before starting to lace the waist belt of her harness.
‘I’d like to make a deal,’ I whispered. ‘Are you willing to lose a race?’
‘Maybe,’ she answered doubtfully.
‘How about a nice bribe?’ I offered.
Her mouth broke into a mischievous grin, telling me that a bribe was exactly what she wanted.
‘A piggy-girl to play with?’ I suggested.
Her eyes lit up. I’d known she liked the fantasy from her reaction at their house, even though she’d been exhausted.
‘Maybe two, if I can pull it off,’ I offered. ‘Look, throw out a challenge that anyone who can beat you on a single lap, with the driver of your choice, can punish both you and the driver. Make it girls only and ask Anna Vale to drive you, then add a heavy punishment for the challenging driver if she loses. Lose, and I’ll do the rest.’
She nodded, glancing over to Anna, who was standing rather aloofly, admiring the carriage. I helped Vicky with the rest of her tack, leaving only her bridle off so that she wasn’t technically in role. She then walked over to Anderson, who in turn spoke to Henry Gresham to arrange the challenge. I strolled away nonchalantly, heading for where Catherine, Matthew and Amber were standing.
As I reached them, I saw Anderson slip Vicky’s bit into her mouth and give her reins to Henry. Both men then made for the centre of the yard; Vicky, now Hippolyta, paced behind them.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he announced, ‘we have our first challenge. Mr Anderson Croom challenges any all-female team to beat his pony-girl Hippolyta over a single lap. Mr Croom will not be driving and would like to offer his seat to Miss Anna Vale by special request from Hippolyta. Miss Vale?’
I glanced over to Anna. She was clearly flattered, as who wouldn’t be if a beautiful pony-girl wanted to be driven by them.
‘And the prize?’ she demanded haughtily but not without real curiosity.
‘The prize,’ Henry continued, ‘should you win, is the submission of both pony-girl and driver of the losing team. To your desire, subject only to stop words. The stop words, incidentally, are ‘‘yellow’’ for slow and ‘‘red’’ for stop. Should you lose, the winning driver will have the right to spank you and to drive Hippolyta herself.’
That wasn’t quite what I had said, but the offer was good and surely had to tempt Anna. She got to drive Vicky anyway, and if she won she would have the submission of two other women. I saw her glance cautiously around, wondering if it was too obvious a trap. She was lighter than everybody else except myself, Poppy, and maybe Catherine. Also, among the girls, only Ginny and Amber had anything like Vicky’s muscle and neither were built as sprinters. Anyone who accepted the challenge was clearly going to end up as her plaything. It occurred to me that she might have seen me speak to Vicky but, if she had, it might have seemed that I was manufacturing an excuse to submit to her myself. I shot her a coy glance to reinforce that theory in her mind. She responded with a knowing look and I knew I had her.
‘I accept the challenge,’ I announced.
‘A challenge from Miss Amber Oakley!’ Henry responded, fortunately getting the names the right way around. ‘Who, then, will be your pony-girl.’
‘Calliphigenia, of course,’ I answered, reaching out to stroke Amber’s head. I hadn’t explained to her what I was up to and she shot me the most wonderful ‘I’m going to get you later’ look. The expression on Henry’s face was splendid, too, as he evidently hadn’t expected to see his one time protégé as a pony-girl.
Amber was a good sport and began to strip immediately. As I helped her harness up, I saw Anderson buckling Vicky into place and wondered if they might not have decided to pull a double bluff on me. It seemed unlikely, as Vicky would then lose her piggy-girls, and anyway, there were worse fates than being Anna Vale’s plaything.
A naked Amber was a rare sight for most of the men and she had no shortage of admirers as I put her into harness. I had dressed in riding gear as part of my deception, and I like to think that when we were finished we made an exceptionally fine turnout.
‘We’re going to win, Honey,’ I whispered as I pulled a bridle over her head.
‘Are we?’ she answered doubtfully.
‘Yes,’ I assured her, slipping the bit into her mouth and cutting off communication.
I had my beautiful Honey in harness as I had wanted, and there was a good chance I’d soon benaming Anna as I strapped her in alongside. Everything was going perfectly, but there was one other detail that I couldn’t do without.
‘Aren’t we racing with tails?’ I asked loudly as if the idea had only just occurred to me.
‘We don’t, usually,’ Michael pointed out. ‘It slows you down.’
‘Referee?’ I queried.
Ask a fifty-year-old pony-girl enthusiast if he’d like to see two girls wearing plug-in tails and the answer is not going to be no.
‘Yes, tails it is, I think,’ Henry said, as if on cue.
Amber gave me another of her looks. I smiled and kissed her.
‘Is poor little Honey going to have a tail up her bottom?’ I teased her, letting my hand slide down over the curve of her bottom to prod meaningfully between her cheeks.
I had her kneel and stick her bum out while I fetched Ginny’s tail and pulled a condom over the plug. A well-greased finger opened Amber’s bum-hole.
‘Come and watch,’ I announced as I put the plug to her anus.
A little crowd gathered around us and Amber hung her head as the plug popped in and her bottom-hole closed around the shaft. She looked really sweet and I promised myself to make sure she made herself a tail for regular use. Vicky was served the same way but with less ceremony, accepting the tail without fuss.
Anna lacked the experience to know how much a tail was going to slow her pony-girl down. Vicky did, but she was now Hippolyta and so not allowed to say anything even if she’d wanted to. Both pony-girls would be slowed, but the race was now more even, especially as we had more experience over the course.
I climbed into the cart and ordered Amber to rise. She was now Honey, or Calliphigenia maybe, the naming having got somewhat confused. In any case, she was my pony-girl, sleek and strong and beautiful. I know I’d got my wish rather sneakily, and the setting was erotic more than romantic, but at that moment I loved her more than ever.
A rush of adrenalin overcame my momentary sentimentality as I steered her in a wide arc to bring the cart to rest beside our rivals. Vicky looked lovely, with her long black tail hanging down over her neat little bottom. So did Anna, haughty and confident enough to make me want to submit to her, but not until I’d had my pleasure.
Henry took his place to our side, raising a handkerchief of the most startling vermilion silk as a flag. I tensed, then yelled to Honey as he brought the handkerchief down. We set off fast but they had a lead before we reached the carriage sweep in front of the ruined house, and we came into the wood a good ten yards behind.
Racing is very different from ordinary pony-carting. Normally you can sit back, admire the view, hold the reins in one hand and the whip in the other. You are in complete control of your pony-girl, who can be commanded at leisure. When racing, the best thing you can do is take a tight grip on the cart and pray your pony knows what she’s doing. The lower the seat of the cart, the better, but minor potholes and stones in the path still become terrifying obstacles.
As Honey belted after our rivals, I was sure I was going to be thrown at any moment. I had only gone so fast once before, with Chris Ford, and his weight and strength had made the cart much more stable. It must have been worse still for Anna, in a higher-seated cart and close to equal in weight to Hippolyta.
At the low point of the track, we were twenty or so yards behind, but the rise was ahead and that would be to our advantage. We started to gain and I saw Anna take a smack at Hippolyta’s rump. The unexpected sting of the whip only broke her stride and helped us.
I know Hippolyta could have kept her pace up and beaten us fairly, even with an inexperienced driver. As it was, she was brave enough to become more fretful with each smack of the whip on her bottom, so that we had managed to pull up right to their rear when we reached the big nettle patch.
The path was tight but we just had room to overtake, only Anna started to steer Hippolyta in a weave, blocking our path.
‘Give way!’ I shouted, not really expecting Anna to take any notice. We could actually see the stable yard gate and, for a moment, I thought I might have been betrayed. Then their wheel struck the edge of what had once been the lawn. Hippolyta stumbled, slowed and then righted herself. It looked real to me and made Anna clutch the cart to avoid being pitched out.
Honey dashed forward, her thigh brushing the nettles back as she overtook, but never losing speed. They were still trying to regain full speed and we had five yards on them before Hippolyta began to gain on the last stretch of flat path. It was too late and we came through the gate with the best part of a length to spare.
I drew Honey to a stop in the centre of the yard, feeling absolutely elated as Henry gave me his arm and then held my hand up as the winner. Behind us, the other cart came to a halt, Anna ordering Hippolyta to kneel and then climbing out.
She look seriously discomfited and I thought she would back out but, instead, she stood to her full height and put her head up with absolute dignity.
‘I have lost and I accept your right to punish me,’ she announced, addressing me. ‘However, I must ask that no one watch, especially men.’
‘I can respect that,’ I answered coolly, although inside I felt like skipping. Anna Vale was actually going to submit to me; to accept her virgin spanking over my lap; to allow me, little, submissive Penny, to chastise and humiliate her.
I was prepared to spank her alone, but not to take my moment of triumph completely without an audience. Marching briskly up to her, I took her by the ear and led her out of the yard behind me. I knew that at the back of the stables was a fallen tree, and it was to this I led her. Tangled rhododendrons and overgrown holly bushes screened the location effectively, creating a nicely private atmosphere for us. She had made no protest at my rough treatment and so I pulled her smartly across my knee and tucked an arm round her waist to keep her in place. Her bottom made an inviting ball under the material of her skirt, ready for spanking.
Having her across my knee felt absolutely glorious. Spanking Catherine or Ginny, Amber even, had been a blend of sex and the pleasure of accepting their submission. This had all of that, but also a sense of achievement and of having been a sneaky little brat to get my way. I knew it wouldn’t last long but, for now, I had Anna Vale as my plaything and I intended to get the most out of the experience.
‘Right, Anna,’ I told her, ‘now I’m going to spank you. Have you ever been spanked before?’
‘No, Miss Oakley,’ she answered in a meek, penitent voice, far different from her normal tones.
‘You’ve done it to plenty of other girls, though, haven’t you?’ I continued.
‘Yes, Miss Oakley.’
‘Well, now you’re going to find out how it feels. First I think we’ll have this pretty bottom bare…’
She hung her head a
s I said that, obligingly going up on her toes so that I could get the tight skirt fully over her hips. There was no reluctance, but genuine submission. I pulled her skirt up slowly, savouring the exposure of stocking tops, then the soft, creamy skin of her thighs and finally the seat of her panties. Her bum was sheathed in tight ivory silk, which was clinging to the swell of her bottom and fringed with lace, very feminine and just the sort of garment I would have expected her to wear.
‘Think of all the girls who’ve lain over your knee with their panties as their last shred of modesty,’ I told her.
‘Did you ever think how they felt, as their bums were stripped? How do you think Poppy feels, as you ease her pants down over her chubby little pear of a bottom? Well you’re about to find out, because yours are coming down right now, Miss Fancy-pants.’
She gave a little gasp as I took hold of her waistband, but I stopped with only the first inch of her bottom crease showing. Her whole body was trembling and I knew I was really getting to her.
‘Actually,’ I continued, ‘I think you are getting off rather lightly. Let’s make a few adjustments.’
I began with her hair, fishing for hair pins in order to take the little hat off, then release the full bulk of it. It was long, straight and a lustrous brown, faintly scented with some perfume I didn’t recognise. She let out a little sob as it cascaded down around her head, falling to the earth and leaves beneath her. I hadn’t been expecting such a strong reaction to this relatively minor humiliation and I paused for an instant, in case she wanted me to slow. When nothing was said, I slid my hand under her chest and started to undo the buttons of her blouse. Her trembling increased as the first one popped open and she sobbed again as my arm brushed the tip of a breast.
‘I think bare breasts add a certain something to a girl’s punishment, don’t you?’ I asked. ‘No one will see, not even me, but you’ll know they’re bare, won’t you, Anna?’