Sam found a place in the car park adjacent to the stable block next to a crimson Jeep she recognized as belonging to Tess Harrow. ‘Wait until you see what I got for my birthday,’ she thought.
Sam opened up the box and took out the hobby horse, unfolding it into its full size. Then she pulled out the ramp and let Beauty shuffle backwards onto the ground. Clipping a leash onto her collar she stood her up and gave her the horse to wheel along, which was easy enough even with her cuffed hands as it was so light. Carrying her harness pack she led her through to the stable yard.
The brick yard was enclosed on three sides by the fronts of stalls that housed the stable’s own ponygirls and those belonging to their members who kept them on the premises. Half a dozen ponygirls were peering out over the tops of their split stable doors. All had their arms sleeve-bound behind their backs and wore bridles and bits, which were secured to the door posts by tethers clipped to their cheek rings. On the fourth side of the yard was the harness and equipment stores and office.
Several members dressed in riding kit were in the yard either readying their mounts or unharnessing them after a ride in a parade of swaying breasts and juice-frothed pussies, all tightly bound by leather and metal rings. A couple of sweating ponies were being hosed down over a grating to one side of the yard preparatory to being towelled off and combed.
Tess was harnessing up her own pony called Silver: a fine statuesque blonde of Scandinavian blood with high, almost perfectly conical breasts. Her mesh muzzle was colour matched to the pale tan of her skin and her harness was white leather. Tess glanced round as Sam appeared.
‘Hallo Sam,’ she began lightly. ‘I’m awfully sorry I couldn’t make your party but...’ Then she caught sight of Beauty emerging from behind Sam and her eyes widened. ‘Oh... yes, I heard you’d been given a ponygirl. So this is her. Hmm...yes... she is quite... pretty.’
The other riders crowded round to admire Beauty, and Sam realized for the first time that she had a kind of glow about her. She simply looked right in a bridle and bit standing in the pony yard. She was trembling with excitement at the sudden attention and the many hands that stroked and prodded her flesh to test her but there was also an impression of pride in what she was. The others could see it as well and their praise for her evident power and poise pleased Sam hugely, especially as Tess’s Silver had, up until now, been the most striking mount in the stable. Naturally Tess had to interject a negative note.
‘Obviously she’s very strong but I’m not sure about her balance,’ she said loudly. ‘A little heavy in the hindquarters, perhaps?’
‘Well I think she’s perfect, Miss Fillister,’ Danny Stamp said, speaking out with uncharacteristic emphasis. ‘I’d love to own a pony half a fine as her.’
‘Well nobody asked your opinion, Stamp,’ Tess said scathingly.
‘Er... thanks, Danny,’ Sam said quickly.
Danny was a wiry young man with pale sandy hair and spectacles. Currently he was dressed in workman’s coveralls and was carrying a toolbox. He was normally amiable and not so outspoken. He loved ponies and was a good rider but his family was not wealthy and could only afford a few utility slaves. Maintaining a pure ponygirl was a luxury. Danny worked at the stables as a general assistant so he could earn a living and ride any ponies that were going spare. Technically he was a member of staff but he did have riding privileges and so it felt awkward on those occasions when he acted more like a regular club member.
Ignoring Tess’s glare Danny continued: ‘You can see she’s got good proportions. Her shoulders balance her hips and haunches. Have you tried her over jumps yet, Miss Fillister?’
‘I was just going to.’
‘Can I watch?’
‘Sure,’ Sam said, knowing it would annoy Tess. ‘Everybody can watch.’
Sam buckled Beauty into her rig. Once again she looked perfect in harness: doubly impaled and firmly strapped to the shaft with her muzzle on and her nipples joined by the restraining bar. She was a natural ponygirl.
Eagerly Sam climbed into the saddle and had Beauty trot around the yard a couple of times so the others could admire the smoothness of her action, her rubber hooves clip-clopping merrily and glossy breasts bobbing. Then, with a curious crowd at her heels, Sam wheeled Beauty out through the gate onto the large main paddock. Its perimeter was marked out as a race track while its centre contained a trial show jumping course.
A ponygirl, however strong, could not of course truly jump a vertical obstacle of any significant height while pulling a rider and rig after her. The “jumps” were actually shallow ramps of different sizes and angles with sharp drops on the other side, variously framed by gates, poles and brush hedges. There was also a head-high grassed earth mound known as “the hill” that was even harder to descend than climb and a couple of shallow water jumps with ramps at each end that had to be taken at a gallop to clear. Nevertheless they were still challenging obstacles, especially when taken at speed while racing the clock, and many a rider and pony had come to grief on them.
As Sam trotted Beauty around the perimeter of the course to warm her up, waving to the other riders who were already out with their mounts, she realised with sudden shock that she had only run Beauty a couple of times around her garden and she had no idea how she would perform over jumps. She seemed confident and strong and was a joy to have moving between her thighs, but could she jump? However it was too late to turn back now, especially with Tess watching.
Sam leaned forward and said in Beauty’s ear: ‘Just go steadily and do your best.’
Beauty tossed her head in understanding.
Sam lined her up for the first jump, gave her a squeeze of the rein handles, raised herself off the saddle in anticipation of the drop and hoped for the best.
Beauty flew over the jump, her breasts rising as she dropped off the far side only to plunge and rebound with a fluid surge as she landed sure-footedly on her sprung hooves. The rig came down behind her with a thud that bowed the wheel braces, but the superbly strong yet elastic composition absorbed the impact and flexed back to shape. Sam’s knees bent as she landed to absorb the shock but it had been far lighter than she had dared hope.
Thrilled at the ease with which she had negotiated the first hurdle, Sam swung Beauty round to face the next jump. Beauty seemed to sail over it.
At a steady pace Beauty took all the jumps cleanly without incurring any penalties, weaving her way nimbly between them with Sam twisting and turning with her to keep the rig’s wheels on the ground. Beauty’s thighs and calves bulged with effort as she hauled Sam up the hill, with Sam pressed against her shoulders to stay balanced, but she showed no fear or hesitation coming down the far side. The final water jump she took at a gallop, clearing it with two feet to spare.
Sam brought Beauty to a panting halt, patting and stroking her hot breasts and praising her loudly. ‘Good girl, good girl.’
Beauty tossed her head in pleasure while about her groin her juices frothed.
The other club members crowded round chattering in appreciation.
‘That looked terrific,’ Danny said.
Tess said with a pinched face. ‘Well I suppose she’s not too bad.’
Then Gordon Paring, the stable owner and senior riding instructor, stepped forward from the back of the crowd. Sam hadn’t realised he’d been watching.
‘So this is your new pony, Sam? I saw how she ran. Mind if I have a closer look at her?’
‘Please do, Mr Paring,’ Sam said respectfully.
Paring was experienced in the ways of ponygirl flesh and always bluntly honest. The relative wealth and influence of the club members counted for nothing with him, only their skill in the saddle and ability to handle ponies.
He unharnessed Beauty and ran his hands over her sweat-sheened body, testing her joints and pinching her muscles to determine their tone. He weigh
ed her breasts in his palms, probed her dripping vagina and had her bend so he could slide a finger up her rear and then have her squeeze on it as hard as she could. Finally he declared:
‘Yes, she’s a strong pony and you’ve got the right rig for her. But you’ve still got a lot of work to do if you want to make the team. You need to spend an hour every day riding her, just getting the feel of her and her for you, so there’s no misunderstanding between you. And you might get in a little more exercise yourself. You’re on the tall and heavy side to be a competition hobby horse rider so you need to build up those thigh and stomach muscles in compensation. Being able to shift your balance to keep the rig in line a fraction faster on each turn might add up to two or three seconds gained at the end of the course. That could be the difference between coming first or fourth.’
Sam would not have taken such a criticism of her body from anyone else. ‘I can do that, Mr Paring.’
‘Well, if you work hard and put in consistently good performances I’ll consider you for the team.’
Sam felt a swell of pride. ‘Thank you, Mr Paring.’
‘One other thing. Are you using her for pleasure as well?’
‘Well yes, of course. She’s trained for pleasure. That will help her bond with me. Everybody knows riders should always be intimate with their ponies.’
‘Yes, but she seems quite tender. Did you give her a beating last night?’
‘Just as an introduction, to teach her to obey me in future.’
‘Light spankings only from now on, and be sparing with them. She can’t run her best with bruises or raw skin. Also too much punishment now will make her less responsive to the whip when it matters.’
‘But she’s got to be disciplined.’
‘You’ll just have to learn to use subtler means.’
‘But she really enjoyed it,’ Sam protested. ‘She came while I was paddling her pussy. And I wasn’t using a phallus on her at the time either. ’
There was an impressed murmur from the club members.
‘And do you know how long it had been since she was last allowed to orgasm?’ Paring asked. ‘It might have been days, just to make her seem more passionate to a new owner.’
Sam hadn’t thought of that. But she persisted: ‘I’m still sure she’s a natural pain slut. And it makes her more eager to please. That’s what you want in a pony.’
Paring shrugged. ‘I’ve given you my advice, Sam. I can’t force you to take it but you know what’s at stake.’
Sam sighed. She could see Tess was enjoying her discomfiture. Carrying on the disagreement further would be impolite. ‘Yes, Mr Paring. Thank you.’
‘Now she’s built up a good sweat. Make sure she has a proper wash and rub down when you’re done with her. I take it you’ll be stabling her at home?’
‘Yes, Mr Paring.’
‘Well exercise her hard every day. Pleasure slaves have more fat on them than ponies because their owners want something softer to cuddle. Don’t let that happen to this one. She’s carrying full enough breasts as it is. She has plenty of potential, but only if she’s handled properly.’
Paring returned to his office and the others drifted away back to their ponies, except for Danny. While Sam re-harnessed Beauty he said: ‘I think you’re right, Miss Fillister. She’s got a sort of wild, hot look in her eyes. Maybe she wants a firm hand.’
She did not want to be seen taking advice from Danny Stamp but she supposed he meant well. ‘Thank you, Danny,’ she said stiffly. ‘I know she does.’
For the next hour Sam rode Beauty about the training paddocks and along the adjoining woodland paths. She did not want to risk another go on the jump course because she was afraid she would not be so lucky twice. For the moment she was pleased to ride Beauty at a gentle pace with other riders, so they could show off their captive ponyflesh to each other. Nowhere else but Irontown could you see such a scene, Sam thought with pride and delight. Breasts of all shapes and hues jiggled and swayed gently, ringed nipples strained, sturdy thighs swelled and buttocks rolled and plugged pussy clefts seeped with helpless excitement.
As she returned to the main paddock Sam saw Tess Harrow, no doubt in an attempt to regain the spotlight, take Silver over the jumps. Sam could see she was whipping Silver on to put in an extra fast round but to Sam’s delight she cut a corner too tightly and hit the side of one of the fences with a wheel on the approach.
As Sam finally guided Beauty back to the stable block for unharnessing and a good rub down, she knew Beauty had made a winning first impression on everybody and that felt very good. But she still did not like having her judgement questioned in public, even by Mr Paring. Irontown society taught women to respect and defer to the opinions older and wiser men, which meant she could not have prolonged the argument, but that did not stop her believing he was wrong. She was certain Beauty had responded unusually intensely to her paddling. Why not give her more of the same? And had it been quite proper for him to tell her she needed to take more exercise herself? Those were the sort of observations you made about slaves, not free women. It was her body, not his, in the same way that Beauty was her personal slave not his and she could use her any way she wished.
* * *
‘I mean how could Mr Paring expect me not to beat her for pleasure if I want to?’ Sam asked.
She was seated at the dining table that evening with mother and father. Her father insisted on at least one formal family meal a day. Beauty was kneeling on a mat by Sam’s chair eating from her own bowl and taking scraps from Sam’s hand.
‘Yes, Sam, she’s yours to do with as you like, within the limits of acceptable slave treatment,’ her father agreed.
‘But why couldn’t he see it in her? Slaves are all different. Some like pain. A few bruises are worth it if they make her try harder.
‘Yes, I agree slaves are all different. But if Beauty isn’t as masochistic as you believe you risk losing her loyalty. A driven slave is never as good as a loving one. You’d be foolish not to take Paring’s advice. He’s very knowledgeable where ponygirls are concerned.’
Feeling frustrated, Sam found herself falling back on the feeble retort: ‘Well Danny Stamp agreed she needed a firm hand.’
‘Danny Stamp?’ her mother said. ‘Oh yes, nice boy. Pity his family had those all those difficulties a while back. I really must call round to see his mother again soon.’
Her grandfather, who was seated at the other end of the table being helped to eat by Cog 107, his slavemaid carer, spoke up: ‘Yes, ponies like a good firm hand. Young Paring was always too soft. A good crack of the whip on their rumps gees them along! It’s what they expect.’
He landed a feeble blow of his hand on Cog’s bare bottom, which she responded to with a dutiful yip.
‘You see,’ Sam said triumphantly. ‘Grandfather understands.’
‘Well as I said, Beauty is your responsibility, Sam,’ her father reiterated. ‘But remember if you do it your way and it all goes wrong, you’ll have nobody to blame but yourself.’
* * *
It was only later that night, as she prepared to enjoy the delights of Beauty’s body once again, that Sam realised she had been talking about Beauty’s response to pain all day long with different people but she had not questioned Beauty herself on the matter. Even Mr Paring and her father had not thought of it. But then who asked a slave her opinion about anything, even how her own body was to be used?
With an effort Sam contained the lust that was making her own pussy so hot and slick and took a thoughtful look at Beauty.
Sam had extended the frame built into the head of the bed. It had braced struts that unfolded forward so that they overhung the top third of the bed like the frame for a canopy. Beauty’s wrists were attached to the struts by wire ropes that pulled her arms upward above her head. She was facing the foot of the b
ed and straddling a slave saddle, to the base of which her ankles were cuffed.
The saddle was a popular device used to toy with slaves. It had a humped, saddle-like upper body of black padded vinyl mounted on a flat base with retractable castors. Inside were motors and gears that drove rods which protruded through slots in the crest of the saddle. These could be capped with a variety of phallic accessories which could be made to rotate, reciprocate, oscillate or vibrate as required. Sam held the remote controller for it in her hand.
Currently Beauty was impaled by an electric finger up her rear and a fat dildo up her vagina. Elastic cords hooked into her labial rings held her cleft wide open, exposing her clitoral hood and the tiny mouth of her pee hole, allowing the clitoral spur wheel attachment mounted on the base of the dildo free play to ride over them. Sam had put large silver rings in her big chocolate nipples to make them easier to manipulate and they were now standing up like organ stops. Her mouth was once again filled with a thick rubber bit she could bite on and drool about freely. In consideration to the rest of the household this would also mute her screams.
That was the way with slaves, Sam reflected. You usually stopped their mouths when you were using them, either with gags or cocks. After her brief conversation the previous night she had only expected to allow Beauty to speak again when she wanted to hear words of devotion from her. You could go weeks or months without actually talking to a slave even if you were sleeping with her warming your bed every night.
And now she was actually going to ask her opinion. But wouldn’t Beauty simply say what she thought she wanted to hear? Well she’d just have to order her to be absolutely honest, that was all. Had she ever spoken to a slave girl like that? It would almost be like having a real conversation with a free person. But what if Paring was right and Beauty was not as much of a pain slut as she imagined? Would she forego the pleasures of tormenting Beauty for the chance she might run faster and win her a place in the Cup team? She wanted both, of course. She’d always had everything she wanted. But suppose she could only have one? Which was more important to her?
Ponygirls of Irontown Page 5