Ponygirls of Irontown

by Arden, Adriana

  But then of course that was how she was meant to feel.

  In her room she stripped off her costume. The panty half was now streaked with blood and sperm stains. Fearfully she examined her rear in her bedroom mirror. It was not quite as bad as it felt. Cleaver had done a neat job. Her bottom was an even blaze of scarlet crossed by a few horizontal purple welts where the edges of the strap blows had overlapped, some of which were oozing blood. How it hurt. And she had no Beauty to console her! No Beauty to apologise to!

  She wanted her to know she had not meant her to suffer. That it had all been a stupid mistake. The image of Beauty’s cold expression haunted her. It hurt more deeply than her beaten and buggered bottom and she wanted Beauty to say she forgave her to take the hurt away.

  But relief for her conscience was denied her. It would burn along with her backside and the throbbing ache in her rectum.

  Sam used the toilet to expel the contents of her rectum without actually touching the seat rim with her ravaged flesh and then flushed it clean with a hose over the bidet. She then took a long shower, hardly daring to soap her rear and playing cold water across it. Even dabbing it with a towel hurt. Taking a tube of anaesthetic ointment from the medicine cabinet she applied copious quantities to her throbbing bottom. She followed the ointment with paracetamol and then she lay face down on her bed with her shiny red bottom exposed to the air: alone with her misery.

  As the drug eased her pain slightly Sam dozed fitfully. In her waking moments her sense of shame and guilt gradually became tempered with the notion that she had, partly at least, been a victim of circumstance.

  After all she would not have got into this position now if she had not been on the phone to Lucy for so long talking about her encounter with the warden. And she would not have had that experience if the warden had not been so high handed and officious. For that matter she would not have been screwing Beauty if she had not smelt so delicious. And why had that man been selling those stupid dildos in the park anyway? Come to think of it Beauty would not have been on the treadmill in the first place if Paring had not insisted she needed so much hard training. And if Cleaver had been allowed to do his job and had looked after Beauty along with the rest of the slaves she would not have had to be responsible for her twenty four-hours a day. And that had all been due to her father’s foolish whim to start with.

  Sam now saw that for weeks everybody was telling her what to do and how to behave. It seemed that owning Beauty had brought her nothing but hard work and grief. Well she’d had enough!

  Resolved, she looked about her, surprised to find the bedside clock now read eleven thirty-five. Perfect.

  Stiffly, Sam dressed, packed a bag, put on a travelling coat and then sneaked out of the house down the back stairs. Reaching the gravel hard standing where her mini rested she loaded in her bag, released the handbrake and rolled it down the slight slope of the drive before jumping in, gasping as she sat on the seat and her poor bottom blazed afresh. She was well clear of the house before she started the engine and turned on the headlights. As she drove out of the front gates she thought of the note she had left on her bed.

  Beauty is my slave to use as I want, even if I make mistakes with her. But it’s become a misery. I’m going away for a week or two. Maybe up to Fort Lockrey to stay with cousin Moira. Cleaver can take care of Beauty while I’m gone. I’m sure he’ll be much better at it than I’ve been!

  Her mention of Scotland was a ruse. In fact she planned to stay at a travel Inn not too far from Shackleswell. Inevitably her parents would call her mobile number but she would not answer. Then they would call Moira but of course she would not know anything about her. After a few days they’d be worrying more about her wellbeing than any mistakes she had made. Then she could come back and all would be forgiven and she would be allowed to resume training Beauty in her own way for the cup competition.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, as Sam was picking her way along the dark winding, wooded back roads heading away from Shackelswell, the mini’s engine coughed and then died. She had just enough momentum to pull over onto the rough verge. She pressed the starter again and again but nothing happened. No, no, not now, she thought! This would ruin her dramatic departure.

  She got out a torch, opened the bonnet and poked about the engine. There did not appear to be anything wrong. But it still would not start. She would have to call the breakdown service. But then they would want to take her back home. She would have to think of some excuse to get them to take her to a hotel.

  She rang the number on the card in the glove compartment and described where she was using her satnav position. They said they’d have somebody with her in twenty minutes. Sam was grateful. At night without any other sign of life this was a lonely spot to be marooned.

  In fact it was hardly ten minutes later that she saw lights on the road ahead of her and a large towing vehicle pulled up in front of her, its multiple headlights blazing. A man got down from the cab and walked over to the mini. Sam wound down the side window as he bent towards her.

  ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with it,’ she began. ‘It just cut out -’

  That was as far as she got before he reached into the car. He was holding a pistol in his hand and calmly he used it to shoot her in the neck.

  Sam was so shocked that she hardly made a sound. She reached up and felt the feathered tip of the dart sticking out of her skin in amazement, as though she could not quite believe it. The last thing she saw, as the numbness spread through her body and the light faded and she toppled over sideways, was that what she had taken to be his face was in fact a flesh-coloured mask.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  On the morning two days after her ordeal on the treadmill, Beauty was kneeling in the sitting room of number twenty-three Coppersmith Gardens, the neat town house belonging to the Stamp family.

  Danny she had met before, of course. He was there with his father and mother, who seemed like nice enough people. Currently though they were all looking a little bemused as their guest explained her presence.

  George Fillister sat in the chair beside which Beauty knelt, holding the end of her leash. She was still confused and saddened by the events of the last few days and, despite much creaming, her bottom still felt raw. She wanted to see Sam again so they could come to some new understanding and restore their trust, but Sam had gone.

  ‘Samantha has rather abruptly taken herself off to stay with some relations in Scotland,’ Fillister was explaining. ‘We had a disagreement about the proper means of training Beauty. This kind of thing is very much in Sam’s nature, I’m afraid. I have no idea when she’ll be back and I don’t intend to chase after her. But earlier she had mentioned how much Danny had admired Beauty when she was riding her at the stables, so I thought he might like to look after her while she’s away.’

  Danny’s eyes had lit up. ‘You really want me to take care of her, Mr Fillister? I mean... completely?’

  ‘Treat her exactly as you would your own slave,’ Fillister assured him. ‘I’ve brought a bag with her street wear and slave tokens due for the next month, so you won’t be put to any extra inconvenience. Otherwise keep up her training as you think best. I’m sure you’ll do a good job. I still haven’t given up hope of Beauty competing for the cup, but I didn’t want to put her in the stables alone and she’ll need more attention than my man Cleaver can spare. Being pleasure trained as well she’s got an affectionate nature and I think she’ll respond best to some one-to-one training. I’ve already taken her hobby horse, harness and so on to the Foundry. You can use them and the facilities there as and when you like. Oh, and while you’re minding Beauty you won’t have to do any extra mucking out to pay for pony time. I’ve arranged with Paring for you to use Sam’s membership. And if you’re good enough, and Sam does not get back in time, then you can ride her in the cup team.’

  Danny
gulped, looking as though he could not quite believe his ears. ‘Actually ride her in the Cup, Mr Fillister?’

  ‘Why not? Paring says you’re a better than average rider and it would be a pity to let her talent go to waste. By the way...’ he took an item from his pocket and handed it to Danny, ‘here’s Beauty’s mute controller. You set it as you think best.’

  ‘Thank you for having such confidence in my boy, Fillister,’ Mr Stamp said sincerely. ‘I know she’s a valuable animal. I promise he’ll take good care of her.’

  ‘I know he will,’ Fillister said.

  * * *

  Half an hour later Beauty was kneeling on a rug in Danny’s bedroom on the second floor. It was at the back of the house overlooking a block of narrow but well-tended back gardens enclosed by a square of similar terraces and all opening onto a common service alleyway that led to an underground station. Since this space was shielded from the public roads and all the properties were owned by Shackleswell citizens, the naked forms of slaves could be seen hanging out washing or weeding flower beds.

  Danny’s room was smaller and more cluttered than Sam’s and certainly less sophisticated in its décor, which could not entirely be put down to his being male. Perhaps he was simply unconcerned about revealing where his true enthusiasms lay. There were pictures on the walls of ponygirls and a several painted white metal models of them harnessed to hobby horses, racing traps and Rowland gynbikes. The detailing of the harnesses and small parts was perfect. If he had made them himself then he was good with his hands and very patient, she decided. There were also a couple of shelves of books. Amongst standard adventure stories and modellers’ instruction books were some uniquely Irontown editions to do with ponygirl racing and training and the life and philosophy of W.S. Rowland.

  Danny was sitting on the side of his bed staring at Beauty with wonder in his eyes, as though he still could not quite believe his good fortune. He had taken her hobble chain off and she knelt facing him with her arms still cuffed behind her and her thighs spread, submissively displaying the full deep cleft of her naked ringed sex towards him. She noted the growing bulge in the front of his trousers and was pleased that he was responding to her body openly and normally now they were in private.

  Briefly Beauty felt a pang of concern that she was in some way being disloyal to Sam by enjoying Danny’s response to her. Then she told herself that whether or not Sam would have approved of her father lending her to Danny to look after was not her concern. Until instructed otherwise she must be as ready to serve him as she would Sam. She felt the familiar warm tingle in her loins and knew her bodily responses would not let her down. She was a Gryndstone girl and could give pleasure to anybody, but it helped that she already liked Danny.

  ‘I don’t know how Miss Fillister could have gone off and left you behind,’ Danny said. ‘She must have been crazy.’

  Of course Beauty could not explain the details of Sam’s departure. For good reasons Mr Fillister had made it sound less dramatic than it had been. Beauty guessed even if she had not left she could not have ridden her for a week after Cleaver had punished her. Such abstinence would have been hard to explain at the club. How long before both her flesh and her pride healed?

  ‘Anyway I said I’d take care of you and I will,’ Danny continued. ‘But I’ll have to do it my way.’ He held up the mute controller. ‘For a start, I don’t think you need to have your voice shut down like this. You’ll know when you can talk or not. I’ll put a gag or bit in your mouth if it’s really important. Come here...’

  Beauty shuffled over to him and lifted her head. He held the controller against her throat and she felt the tickle that meant the implant had been adjusted.

  ‘Is it off now?’

  ‘Yes, Master,’ Beauty said.

  ‘Do you like to be able to talk?’

  ‘Yes, Master. When it pleases you, Master.’

  Danny smiled and stroked her hair. ‘I think it’s exciting to able to talk to a slavegirl, especially when she’s harnessed like a pony. It makes it so much more personal and intense. Then if you have to gag her it just bottles up all the words for later. She shouldn’t worry that she’ll never have a chance to say what she thinks. How could anybody really want a girl to become a dumb animal? I mean a talking horse, like in a fairy story, would be a wonderful thing. You wouldn’t want to stop it talking. Well I think a ponygirl is almost as wonderful, because you can harness her and use her for sport like an animal but also talk with her about the details of what she felt afterwards.’

  ‘Yes, Master.’ It seemed to Beauty that Danny had been putting a lot of thought into the whole question of muting. She’d never heard it spoken of quite like that before.

  His expression became more serious. ‘Do you want to compete in the Cup team, Beauty? Not for your owner’s sake, I mean, but for yourself?’

  Nobody had asked her that question outright either before. ‘I do, Master.’

  ‘Then that means, if I’m going to ride you properly and keep up your training, you’ve got to obey me like you would Miss Fillister. I’m not trying to take her place but you’ve got to respond to me as if I was your master. No doubt or hesitation. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, Master.’

  ‘You see right now I think you’re just being polite when you say that to me, which is fine and not your fault, but you must really mean it if we’re to be a team. They think I’m soft at the Foundry, but I do know the proper way to master a girl. I said when I first saw you that you’d respond to a firm hand. I think you want to be put in your place, and that you’d respect somebody who could dominate you without being cruel. But you want somebody who can be strong and who you can also trust. After all you’re handing over your body to someone else to use for their pleasure and service so you must be sure. The test is to happily accept a paddling from them just because they wish to give you one. Only a master can ask this of his girl. On his part he has to inflict pain with restraint, to show he cares about her feelings, even though he has the power to do far more. Any idiot can terrorise slaves into obedience through fear and punishment. I hate that sort. The true Irontown way means forging a bond of mutual respect between masters and slaves. Every flesh-cog in the city machine matters. That’s what’s allowed our system to last as long as it has.’

  Beauty felt a thrill course through her. He really understood how she wanted to belong to something greater than she was.

  ‘Did Miss Fillister think that way?’

  ‘Yes... a bit, I think, Master. But... you say it better.’

  ‘Then will you accept a master’s beating from me? Well, a temporary master, anyway. So that we know where we stand.’

  Her heart skipped a beat. ‘Yes, Master.’

  Danny beamed in delight and reached under his bed, pulling out a box which he opened up to reveal a smaller, plainer version of Samantha’s set of punishment tools and slave dildos. At the sight of them Beauty’s nipples stood up harder. He selected a standard spanking paddle and slapped it across his palm.

  ‘This will make your eyes water,’ he said, ‘but it won’t leave any deep marks. Mr Paring was right about not damaging your skin, but you can still have a fair tanning.’ He patted his knees: ‘Lie across here.’

  With her heart thudding and pussy feeling hot and slick, Beauty got to her feet and lay across Danny’s knees with her bottom raised. For the first time Danny saw her rear close-up. Her brown flesh and the healing creams had helped conceal it somewhat but the damage Sam had carelessly inflicted was still visible.

  ‘Oh... who spoilt your lovely backside?’ Danny exclaimed, tracing a fingertip lightly across the multiple pin marks. ‘Um... has this anything to do with Miss Fillister leaving?’

  ‘Will you allow me not to say, Master?’

  ‘Of course. That’s none of my business. Does it still hurt?’

  �
�A bit, Master.’

  ‘Can you still run?’

  ‘Yes, Master.’

  ‘But you weren’t going to say anything. You’d have let me beat your bottom even in this state?’

  ‘It’s your choice, master.’

  ‘You don’t have to hide any injury from me. While I’m you’re master you tell me if anything’s wrong with you. You’ll have to be a hundred percent fit if you’re going to compete in the cup.’

  ‘Yes, Master.’

  ‘And for a start those scars have got to heal. Now where else can I use? Back on your knees...’

  She resumed her former position at his feet. He cupped and squeezed her breasts. She rolled her eyes as he handled her pliant globes. ‘These look perfect: lovely big nipples and not a mark on them. Are they sensitive?’

  ‘Yes, Master.’

  ‘You know it will hurt if I tan them.’

  Beauty felt her stomach churning in fearful delight while her pussy began to drip. ‘Yes, Master. I know you’ve got to hurt me to teach me my place, Master. Please be firm, Master.’ She sat further back on her heels, spreading her legs and arching her back so she thrust her breasts out towards him. ‘Beat me, Master...’

  ‘I’ll give you something to bite on...’

  He found a thick rubber bit in his box and pushed it between her teeth. Then he cupped his left hand under her right breast, lifting it up so that it formed a soft brown dome. Raising the paddle he brought the blade sharply down on it, making a crisp smack as rubber met flesh and sending fluid shivers through the heavy substance of her breast. Beauty gave a yip of pain. Danny moved his hand to cup her left breast and smacked that in turn. Then he changed his angle of attack and swiped the paddle full on to the nipples, driving their hard cones back into their yielding globes and indenting them with her rings. He shifted his grasp to take hold of her nipples rings, one at a time, and lifted her breasts, exposing their undersides to swinging, upward paddle blows that made them heave.