by Penny Birch
‘Me too, please,’ Carrie squeaked, climbing off the bed to come round in front.
She settled down on top of me, her warm body pressed against mine and our chins touching as she put her face into Ellen’s fanny. Ellen sighed as Carrie’s tongue found her clitty, rubbing her bottom in my face. My lips were wide, my tongue pushed into Ellen’s anus, juice and spittle running down my chin from Ellen’s fanny. I wanted to get at my own sex, to bring myself off with Ellen sat on my face and my tongue up her bottom. Carrie’s position made it impossible; her pubic mound pressed against my own served to torment me even more.
Ellen came very quietly, but I felt her thighs clench around my head and her anus pulse and tighten on my tongue tip and knew she had reached her climax. She gave a little grunting noise deep in her throat and then it was over and she was dismounting my face.
‘Stay,’ I gasped, even as I took Carrie’s hair in my hand and tried to pull her down on to my fanny.
Ellen gave me an amused look and then my vision was blotted out again as she once more lowered her bottom on to my face. My tongue found her bumhole, burrowing in willingly as Carrie’s tongue began to tickle my sex-lips.
I came again, only to have Carrie insist on the same treatment I had given Ellen. I made no objection. I was feeling completely wanton and wonderfully relaxed; more than happy to lick another bottom. She sat over my face first, holding her cheeks open to give me a good look at the tight, pale pink anus that I was to lick, then lowered herself on to me and masturbated while I did it.
It was close to dawn when we finally got to sleep, all three of us in the same bed with Ellen in the middle and our heads nestled on to her chest. My last thought before sleep was one of immense satisfaction, yet I suspect that Ellen was more satisfied still.
Nine
After coming back from Devon in a thoroughly satisfied mood I spent the next few days designing and making pony-girl tack. A trip into London secured me some beautiful textured black leather – thick and strong yet supple. I also bought a couple of skins of a wonderfully soft crimson pig hide and a great bag of nickel-plated accessories. The art of good pony-girl tack seemed to me to be to distribute the weight of the load as evenly as possible across the body while retaining a look that was both sexually and aesthetically appealing. I made Henry try each new design on me as I finished it, only the restraining presence of Brenda and other people who worked for him stopping me from driving him completely up the wall. Not that he minded driving me around the estate; it was my constant demands for detailed reports on the look and feel of the harness that began to wear on his patience. He finally spanked me and made me go to bed in full harness with my hands fastened behind my back, then caned me in the morning when I asked if he’d mind testing a new quick-release catch I wanted to use.
When I was finally satisfied with my design I made three complete sets of adjustable, quick-release tack in black with soft crimson lining, steel fittings and crimson accessories. It looked superb and even Henry had to admit that my time had been well spent. My next target for my team was Vicky Belstone and, when I rang her to suggest meeting up, she responded with delight. I didn’t tell her about the harness, instead packing one and presenting her with it when I arrived at the Camden Town flat which she shared with Todd. It was a Saturday and they were both lolling around the flat, Vicky in a track-suit, Todd in just a bathrobe.
She was pleased, to say the least, especially when I refused to accept payment for my work. After admiring it for a few seconds she stripped naked with a total disregard for the supposed embarrassment of nudity, which reminded me of Ginny. Todd and I helped her into the harness, Vicky giving delighted squeaks and coos, Todd equally impressed but pointing out that the tack was in Henry’s racing colours while his own were black and yellow.
‘Ah, well, there’s a reason for that,’ I said tentatively. ‘I was wondering if Vicky would consider racing for me?’
‘I’m yours,’ Vicky replied without hesitation.
‘Hang on, hang on,’ Todd interrupted. ‘Who’s supposed to be the master around here?’
‘You are, darling,’ Vicky answered him sweetly, ‘but that doesn’t mean Amber can’t race me if I want, does it? Don’t worry, I promise not to run off with her.’
I could tell that while Vicky might be the submissive partner in their sexual relationship, their day-to-day lives were conducted as equals. I wasn’t sure why Todd was unhappy with me racing Vicky, unless he was jealous for some reason. As it was, the reason was very different. They argued for a while, Vicky backing Todd into a corner until he finally admitted the truth.
‘It’s just that Morris rang the other day to say that nobody was to volunteer to race for Amber, on pain of being thrown out of the club. Look, I don’t mind you two playing. In fact I’d like to watch or even drive you, Amber, if you’re up for it, but I don’t want to get kicked out of the club.’
‘Start your own,’ I suggested. ‘Henry and I will join, and Ginny Linslade, maybe my friends Susan and Francis as well. You can use the farm. We’ll have a great time. Forget Rathwell. You don’t need him. You can drive me any time you like, too.’
‘Thanks, Amber, that’s sweet of you. We do need him, you know,’ Todd sighed. ‘He’s got all the contacts, there’s always some property on his books to use, he puts up great prizes … everything, really. I don’t want to risk it. What’s going on anyway?’
‘Basically I’ve got another bet on with him,’ I said. ‘You know when I got caned and … well, you saw. That was because I lost a bet to him.’
‘We know,’ Vicky remarked. ‘Every time we see him he reminds us about it. We know about you losing the pursuit-capture-punishment at Henry’s farm, too. He says he yoked you and you were begging for it by the end. Lying bastard.’
‘It’s at least half-true,’ I admitted. ‘He yoked me anyway, and I got a bit carried away. I always seem to when I go sub. I can’t really help it. Once I’ve been spanked I’m up for more or less anything.’
‘Me too,’ Vicky admitted. ‘That’s what I like best, as it goes. That and the thrill of winning as a pony-girl. What’s the bet this time then?’
‘Tough,’ I said. ‘He wants me as his live-in slave-girl, Melody’s and Harmony’s too. I’ve agreed to a week, but he’s so arrogant he’s sure I’ll want to stay on. If he wins he’ll also cane me and then … then put it up my bottom in front of everyone.’
‘Typical Rathwell,’ Vicky interrupted. ‘What if you win?’
‘I get a piece of land and an old forge building, which I really want. I also get to cane him.’
‘You get to cane him?’
‘Yes. I insisted because he insisted on keeping the buggery bit in. He didn’t like it, though.’
‘No, he wouldn’t. He won’t go sub to anyone, not even in fun. I smacked his arse with a whip once, just gently. He went nuts. If you’re going to cane him, I want to see it.’
‘If I win,’ I reminded her. ‘I need you on my team to be sure I do. Please, Vicky?’
‘I want to do it,’ she replied. ‘I’ve got to do it!’
‘Vicky!’ Todd objected.
‘Show some guts, Todd,’ Vicky answered him.
‘But…’
‘Sod his club. I don’t think he would have the guts to throw us out anyway.’
‘Oh yes he would.’
‘Well, he can then. It’s worth seeing him get caned, and he’s an arrogant pig anyway. I’d rather play with Amber and Henry. Ginny Linslade too. Think of Ginny Linslade’s tits, Todd; big and round, like melons –’
‘Yeah, well,’ Todd replied, looking a bit uncomfortable.
‘He loves big boobs,’ Vicky addressed me. ‘Mine aren’t enough. He likes yours, but he was really drooling over Ginny’s.’
‘Yours are nice,’ I put in, admiring her bare, firm breasts, each a nice handful if nothing like the size of Ginny’s or even my own.
‘Thanks,’ she answered. ‘You can touch if you like.’
‘Will you two stop mucking about,’ Todd interrupted. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘I’m going to race for Amber,’ Vicky replied decisively. ‘Rathwell can bugger himself, or at least he could if his cock wasn’t so short. You, my darling, are taking Amber and I pony-carting. Now.’
She meant it, too. It was already afternoon and, by the time we had got everything together and driven out into the country, the light had started to fade. The day was warm for October, but dry and not sunny enough for many people to be about. This was just as well, because Vicky was determined to go carting somewhere that meant we would definitely get seen. She wanted us to be nude, too, but Todd and I eventually persuaded her to compromise on bras and panties in order to avoid getting arrested.
The idea of risking being seen added something to it for me, and also for Vicky. Todd was more nervous, but I gathered it wasn’t their first time by any means. Vicky had been telling me stories of previous occasions as we drove there, mostly involving surprised walkers, bird watchers, dirty old men and so forth. Once, a particularly outraged gamekeeper had chased her and she’d managed to outrun him, pony-cart and all, a feat of which she was especially proud.
I wasn’t really prepared, and we had to jury rig their cart to make it work as a two-in-hand. Despite this, once Todd had us both fully harnessed in a lonely spot on heathland somewhere to the south-west of London, we looked and felt deliciously naughty, if not turned out as well as we might have been. It was a place they knew well, and he exercised us for half-an-hour without seeing a soul. His courage increased with time, as, I suspect, did his excitement, and after a while he halted us and unsnipped our bras. The feeling of naughtiness increased as I felt the extra weight of my bare breasts and the cool evening breeze perked my nipples up.
It felt even better topless, running down the quiet, sandy paths with my breasts bouncing bare in front of me and my panties pulled up tight between my bottom-cheeks. The sight of Vicky to my side was enchanting too, and my inability to touch her exquisitely frustrating. Todd drove us silently, guiding us with the reins and gentle flicks of his whip to our bottoms. His signalling system was a little different from Henry’s, but I soon got the hang of it.
I was becoming thoroughly turned-on, and beginning to wish someone would see us when I caught a knowing glance and a wink from Vicky. I wasn’t sure what she meant until she took an unsignalled turning and sped up.
‘Vicky?’ Todd said, uncertain and with just a touch of severity.
I felt the pull of the reins against my bit and started to slow, only to find Vicky speeding up.
‘Vicky,’ Todd repeated, now definitely stern.
I heard the smack of his whip on her bottom; a meaty sound caused by the broad leather snap he favoured. Vicky again increased her pace, forcing me to increase mine until we were going flat out and the cart was bouncing on the ruts in the sand track.
‘Vicky! Halt!’ Todd ordered.
We paid no attention, turning again on to a broader, smoother path.
‘Vicky, no,’ Todd ordered hopelessly. ‘Vicky, you’re topless and so’s Amber. Vicky!’
We ignored him completely, Vicky turning on to another track and towards lights that I could see through a bank of trees in the gathering gloom. I was beginning to feel a bit concerned about her intentions, but couldn’t really stop.
‘Victoria!’ Todd yelled as we came in among the trees.
It was too late, not that Vicky made any attempt to stop. The trees were no more than a fringe of pines shielding the heathland from a main road. Worse, the track opened directly on to the forecourt of a service station.
I had a brief glimpse of astonished faces as we shot past the petrol pumps. There was a car wash to one side, the main building to the other. We ran between, slowed, turned and doubled back. A car was just coming in, the driver’s face a mask of amazement as we ran towards him. He stopped, Vicky and I turning in front of him to angle for the track and the heathland. Someone shouted, another whistled, and Todd’s whip smacked hard against my bottom as we hit the sand of the track.
‘Sprint!’ he ordered.
There was genuine alarm in his voice and I responded to the whip, leaping forward, trying to match Vicky’s pace, taking the full strain of the cart. We were going flat out, tearing down the track as fast as we could run. I heard the sound of a horn behind us and another shout, then lights flooded over us and I realised that somebody had turned a car on to the track.
‘Shit!’ I heard Todd exclaim. ‘Run, you two!’
I was already going flat out and, in any case, run as we might we couldn’t hope to go faster than a car. Pictures of my arrest for indecent exposure started to flood my mind, my father’s face on discovering that his precious daughter had been arrested for playing pony-girls in public, and topless at that.
‘Right! Hard right!’ he yelled.
I saw what he meant, a narrow track leading between stands of bracken and gorse that opened just ahead. We turned hard, the gorse scratching my leg, then a hidden stump knocking my calf. I stumbled, righted myself and ran on. The lights swerved and an instant later there was a crash behind us.
‘Oh fuck!’ Todd said. ‘Make for the car, fast!’
We ran all the way, a good half-mile of rough track by the end of which my thigh muscles were burning in protest. We stopped by the car and started to sort ourselves out, desperately pulling our tack off as Todd worked on the nuts and catches of the cart. Seconds after it was packed another car pulled into the remote place we had chosen. Fortunately, this car contained a couple more intent on each other than wondering why two half-naked girls were scrambling into their clothes in the middle of the car park.
Only when we were well away did Vicky start laughing. I was still panting and trying to get my breath back, but she was hardly bothered by our run, which gave me a new respect for her stamina.
‘Victoria,’ Todd said quietly from the front. ‘You are in big trouble.’
‘How was I to know that some nutter would give chase?’ she laughed. ‘Anyway, we got away, didn’t we?’
‘That’s not the point!’ he exclaimed. ‘You bolted and ran through a service station!’
‘Naughty, aren’t we?’ Vicky replied, her voice full of excitement.
‘Yes,’ Todd answered, seriously, but without any real annoyance.
‘Punish us then,’ Vicky demanded. ‘Take us into the woods and put our faces in the dirt. Whip us and then fuck us both.’
‘Don’t tempt me,’ Todd responded.
‘I need it, Todd,’ Vicky continued, still giggly but with real urgency in her voice. ‘Take us to that car park where the dirty old men like to watch and fuck me in front of them. Amber too.’
‘Hey!’ I protested half-heartedly.
‘Be careful or I might just do that,’ Todd answered her. ‘But for now I’ve got a better idea. We’re going home, and when we get there you’re going to get your special punishment.’
‘In front of Amber?’ Vicky asked.
‘Yes, in front of Amber,’ he answered.
She just sighed and lay back in the seat, sliding her hand down the front of her tracksuit bottoms.
‘And you can cut that out,’ Todd ordered.
‘Yes, master,’ Vicky replied breathlessly.
‘What are you going to do to her?’ I asked, intrigued by the idea of watching Vicky punished in whatever strange and novel way they had devised.
‘You’ll see,’ Todd assured me.
Vicky just groaned. By the time we got near their flat she was fidgeting in anticipation and kept looking back at me with an expression that told me she was very keen on my being there to watch or even join in. As we turned into their road she had her hand down her panties again and was talking to me, fast and nervously, about how much she wanted me to drive her. I was ready to
have her as soon as we were through the door, only for Todd to suddenly slam the brakes on and pull in sharply behind a box van.
‘What’s the matter?’ Vicky demanded.
‘That,’ Todd said, nodding forward.
Vicky turned, but I had already seen what had alarmed Todd. Outside their flat a gold Rolls Royce was parked at an angle. Morris Rathwell was getting out of it.
‘Shit!’ Vicky exclaimed.
‘What shall we do?’ Todd demanded.
‘I don’t want him to know you’re racing for me!’ I insisted.
‘Nor do I,’ Todd added.
‘Just brazen it out, then,’ I suggested. ‘I’ll go.’
‘Sure, but that’s why he’s here, isn’t it?’ Vicky responded. ‘To sign me up to run for him.’
‘You’re probably right,’ I admitted.
‘I know I am,’ Vicky insisted. ‘He’s a sneaky bastard. If he knows you’re going to make it a distance race he won’t just use Melody and Harmony. He’ll use a four-in-hand to get real stamina, and maybe make mid-route pony-girl changes. He’ll want me and Trisha because he doesn’t take you too seriously.’
‘Who’s Trisha?’ I demanded. ‘And what do you mean he doesn’t take me too seriously?’
‘Trisha’s the tall girl with the red hair who came in third the first time you raced,’ she answered. ‘She’s good, but if Rathwell was really worried about you having a chance of winning he’d hire a couple of male athletes.’
I didn’t reply, my cheeks burning with shame and fury at the discovery of how little Rathwell thought of my challenge. Sure he was going to try and make sure he outdid my team, but he obviously regarded it as a straightforward task. He was at their door, his finger jabbing at the bell.
‘Let’s wait until he goes,’ Vicky said.