Suddenly, with an animal groan of desire, Tess dropped the paddle and straddled the rail and Beauty’s head. Her smooth strong thighs closed about Beauty’s cheeks as she lay across her head to tail and with desperate urgency ground her dripping pussy into Beauty’s face.
And, despite her pain and misery, Beauty did what she had been trained to do. She slid her tongue into the sweet, hot, hungry wet slot that was being raked across her nose and mouth and gave it pleasure. Tess gasped and bucked her hips wildly, ravaging Beauty’s face. Then with a shudder she came: joyfully but also maliciously and selfishly, without concern for any feeling but her own.
A stream of hot pee gushed out of Tess’s slot to mingle with her orgasmic juice and together they sprayed full into Beauty’s face. She sobbed and spluttered but trapped between Tess’s silky thighs she could not escape the full shameful deluge as it flooded over into her eyes and hair.
The flow finally ceased. Tess lay across her for some moments, breathing heavily and gathering herself. Then she climbed off the rail and Beauty’s now urine-sodden face. Pulling up a handful of grass she wiped the insides of her thighs dry. She retrieved the paddle and tucked it away under it garter. Then she unhitched her skirt, let it drop and smoothed it down. Once again she appeared to be a respectable young woman, if one with unusually flushed pink cheeks and bright eyes.
‘This is what I can do to you any time I like,’ she told Beauty. ‘And I will if you or your precious Daniel gets in my way. Tell him about this if you want. The lad saw nothing and my friends will swear I just brought Silver in here to put her on the jump machine. It’ll be your word against mine and yours counts for nothing. You count for nothing, except what we make of you. That’s the truth about Irontown. Never forget it. Now, I’ve interrupted your exercise session so I’d better make up for it...’
She untied Beauty from the track and helped her sit upright. Trickles of urine from her sodden hair began to drip onto her smarting breasts, making them sting afresh. Tess then bent over the pursuit shuttle and adjusted its settings. Then she gave Beauty a smack on the rump. ‘It’s now set on maximum shock and high speed. You got a five second start. If anybody asks me I’ll say this is how it was set when I came in. Not my job to interfere...’
With a sob Beauty began to run along the track, her wet breasts bouncing and the impaling shuttle jiggling and rasping inside her. With a whir of motors the pursuit shuttle set off along the rail after her. Tess laughed and went to free Silver.
As Beauty turned a bend she snatched a glance behind her. The shuttle was closing on her rear.
She stumbled as the track dipped before her, swaying crazily and grazing her thighs on the rails, only held upright by her plugs that twisted inside her. Before she could recover her stride the electric prong of the chasing shuttle jabbed into her rear. Beauty shrieked as the shock jolted through her. That hurt!
She heard laughter. Tess was leading Silver out of the paddock, closing the gate behind her again. How long before anybody else came in who was not part of Tess’s alibi gang?
While the shuttle’s capacitor recharged Beauty stumbled on. Should she call out for help? No. That would only please Tess. There was only one thing she could do.
She ran faster.
The sides of the rail seemed to scorch the insides of her thighs as she sprinted round the track in the strange slightly bow-legged gait it forced upon her. The dildo shuttle was vibrating crazily, making her loins churn and pussy dribble. Even in extremis she could not help getting aroused. Gasping for breath and blinking the sweat from her eyes Beauty became the pursuer. Weeks of training paid off as she began to lap the shock shuttle. But by now the entire track was slippery with her juices that were splattering about the dildo bases. She felt the pressure growing in her loins. She was going to come! Only a ponygirl could have continued like this, stimulating and degrading herself with every stride. But then that was what made them so special.
Now the whirring shuttle was only a few feet ahead. But as she closed on it her orgasm closed on her. And it felt massive. But if she came she would lose all the ground she had made up. Would she have the strength to do it again?
With a final desperate lunge she dipped her back, twisted her head round over the shuttle and clamped her teeth about the base of the raised shock arm. She slithered to a halt, holing the shuttle against the whine of its wheels until there was a fizz and pop as its motor burnt out.
And then Beauty came, sprawled between the two shuttles, breasts dangling on each side of the rails, knees turned inward and thighs clenched about the dildos over which she was jerking her hips as she sprayed her juices over them. Dizzy with shock, exhaustion and orgasmic elation, she was still slumped over the track like this when Danny found her fifteen minutes later.
* * *
Naturally Danny seethed with anger after Beauty explained what Tess had done to her. But as he hosed her down, washing the urine from her hair, he praised Beauty first instead of giving vent to his feelings, which was very much in his nature.
‘You actually lapped and caught the shock shuttle when it was set to top speed! That’s amazing. No girl has ever done that before. Well done!’
Beauty felt herself swell with pride.
Then he tried to read the deeper meaning in Tess’s actions. ‘This wasn’t simply about jealously or resentment. Tess wouldn’t have been trying to demoralise and frighten you if she didn’t think we were serious competition for a place in the cup team,’ he said. ‘And of course she also wants you for her own, but since she can’t have you she’s trying to spoil you. Well it won’t work. You’re not going to let her frighten you off, are you?’
‘No, Master,’ Beauty promised.
‘Good Girl! Do you want me to tell Mr Paring what she did? Club members do not interfere with each other’s ponies without permission. Despite what Tess assumed I think he’d believe you. He could certainly make things difficult for her.’
While she had been waiting for his return Beauty had time to think about this.
‘Whether he does believe me or not, Master, it’ll only annoy or upset other club members. I think the best way we can get back at Tess is for you to harness me up and we’ll put in our best time yet over the jumps.’
And they did.
* * *
That evening Beauty finally realised what the most important difference between Tess and Sam was. Both were from wealthy backgrounds and both had probably been spoiled. But although she knew to her cost that Sam could be both thoughtless and selfish, she had never to her knowledge been actively spiteful. And before she left she had been softening her attitude towards Danny. In Beauty’s opinion that made a world of difference between them.
Sam was in her thoughts a lot over the next few days. Despite her ease in Danny’s company and growing delight each time he rode her, both in the saddle and in bed, she found she was missing Sam. In the time that she had owned her, despite all her faults, they had formed a strong bond. Perhaps it had even been the beginning of true slave love. And yet she felt she could already trust Danny more. He was solid and reliable and she felt safe in his company, whereas with Sam there had always been that edge of uncertainty. Would it be hard to leave him when Sam returned or would old instincts reassert themselves?
She wondered if Sam was missing her right now.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sam cringed in horror, waiting for Wainwright to recognize her with her eyes now uncovered. The shame and embarrassment when he did so would be acute on both sides, she thought with dread.
But there was no sign of surprise or recognition on his face. Of course he did not know her particularly well but they had been introduced at some big luncheon not so long ago, and she had seen him at several pony club meets. What was the matter with him? She was the daughter of one of the richest families in Shackleswell. Her face had been in th
e papers several times. Surely she could not have changed that much in a week. She’d only had her hair dyed and cut and a part number stamped on her forehead. It was still her underneath! How could he not tell she was a free woman, not a slave!
However it seemed that at that moment a slave was what Wainwright expected to see and that was what he saw. And with her voice distorted to speak only pony she could not tell him the truth, leaving her feeling sick with rage and frustration.
‘I don’t normally have any reason to explain anything to my ponies,’ Wainwright told her gravely. ‘I believe they only need to do what they’re told when they’re told and they’re happy enough. I treat them firmly but fairly and they seem to like it. But this is a special situation so you need to understand as much as you’re capable of doing. You’re here because I wanted an under-the-counter girl for my son Toby to use. He’s got a little experiment he wants to try. I don’t think it’ll work but I indulge him, like fathers do. But be warned it’ll be hard on you. More than a decent pony should normally have to endure, in fact. That’s why I didn’t want him to spoil one of ours. But it’ll only be for a few weeks. Afterwards, if you’re good, you go back wherever Hatchet and Shears found you. If you’re bad or if you talk about anything that happened here then you’ll regret it. It’ll be your word against ours, so nobody’ll believe you anyway. Do you understand?’
Sam nodded dumbly. What else could she do?
‘Right. First you’ll need a proper pony name.’ He looked her over. ‘“Topaz”’ he declared. ‘We’ll call you Topaz. You answer to that now and nothing else. And you’ll be my boy’s exclusive mount. You do what he tells you... and put up with everything else with as little protest as possible.’
Sam shivered. What kind of scheme had Toby Wainwright got in mind?
Would he recognize her? He must. God, she’d actually danced with him once at a formal evening dinner. He was quite good looking, although she recalled he had also been polite in a rather stiff way and somewhat condescending. Afterwards her fellow clubmates had jokingly taunted her for dancing with the enemy.
‘Now I suppose I’d better take you to meet my boy,’ Wainwright said. He did not sound happy.
Taking up her leash he led Sam out of the room, along a short corridor and through an outer door into a bustling ponygirl stable yard. After her week of solitary incarceration it was a shock to see so many people again.
Except for the barn-sized green-painted steel frame and corrugated panel structure that adjoined one corner of the stable complex, it was also achingly similar to the Foundry yard. There were the rows of split stable doors with bridled ponygirls looking out over them and girls being combed and washed down. Others were being put into harness or taken out of it. The wheel spokes of hobby horse rigs flashed in the sun. Smartly dressed riders, utility-clad stable lads and bare-bottomed ponies milled about. The air rang with the jingle of harness and the clop of rubber hooves. Over it all hung the exciting, pervasive smell of pony sweat, leather, metal polish and aroused slavegirl pussies.
For a brief fanciful moment Sam imagined she was actually back at the Foundry where she had always felt safe. Then the dreadful realisation came that she was no longer a rider but a naked slave exposed to the gaze of dozens of pairs of eyes, some belonging to people she knew slightly. She whimpered with shame, her cheeks burning, expecting to feel them leering at her intimacies and laughing and pointing, and then perhaps choking off incredulously as they saw who she was. But instead there were just a few casual glances of mild interest, nothing more. She was simply one more naked body in a yard full of bare flesh of many tints.
Wainwright led her across the yard and into what might have been a smaller version of Cleaver’s workplace, with racks of restraints and harnesses and several pieces of slave training equipment stood about the walls. A dark-haired young man of about her age, not tall but of compact and sturdy build and dressed in jodhpurs and shirtsleeves, was bent over a workbench. A crop and cattle prod hung from his belt.
Sam cringed and lowered her eyes, recognising him immediately.
‘Here she is, son,’ Wainwright senior said. ‘She’s called “Topaz”’.
Toby Wainwright turned round. His face lit up as his gaze fell on Sam. ‘Oh, they’ve delivered her already. Excellent. Can I check her over?’
‘Go on.’
Toby took charge of Sam, handling her firmly and subjecting her to much the same examination as his father had performed, but with younger, softer hands. He looked Sam full in the face as he inspected her mouth. Any second she expected to see realisation dawn. But it did not. Were they simply blinded by their expectations... or did she really look and feel like a true slave?
‘She’s just right, Father,’ Toby declared at length. ‘Thanks for getting hold of her.’
‘You know what I think about this scheme of yours, Toby. But you’ve got to find out for yourself. Just don’t be too hard with her. And explain what you’re trying to do. She deserves that much.’
‘If you insist, Father,’ Toby agreed stiffly.
‘And keep her muted at all times. Don’t give her any opportunity to cause trouble or accuse us of mistreating her before witnesses.’
‘You know I’m hardly likely to give her any chance to talk, Father,’ Toby said impatiently. ‘That would ruin the experiment.’
‘Well just see that she doesn’t,’ his father said wearily.
Wainwright turned and walked out, leaving Sam alone with Toby. He considered her with an attitude of disdainful pity. ‘Apparently my father wants me to talk to you, Topaz. All right, I will to keep him happy. I don’t know how much you’ll understand, but he won’t be able to say I didn’t try.
‘You’ve been brought here to be the subject of a special experiment I have in mind. I believe that any reasonably fit slavegirl can be turned into a winning ponygirl if she’s correctly motivated and conditioned. But just like a real horse a ponygirl needs to be properly broken-in. However this is not the case at present. Trainers are far too lax. A girl should be truly broken in spirit and body so she will obey her rider instantly and without a second thought. Then training becomes far simpler, since all her actions are controlled by her rider, who she is conditioned to obey absolutely. She need not think for herself at all, only respond as directed. Fear of further punishment and memories of her breaking-in will ensure she’ll run her very hardest, far beyond her normal limits of endurance.’
Sam shivered as the full implications of his words sank in. She was going to be brutally broken-in like an animal without any compassion. He’d seemed reasonably decent when she’d danced with him. Had he been planning this experiment even then?
‘Of course this is a departure from the guidelines for slave training that Rowland first laid down, but I believe we have to move with the times,’ Toby continued briskly. ‘Modern females are more independently minded and are less easily subjugated. Some of those we take in now ungratefully insist that they have “rights” and it can take months to teach them proper respect for their masters. I believe that your case will be a useful demonstration to a select few that there must be a change in general policy... however that does not concern you now.
‘Anyway, for what it’s worth, you now know my plans for you.’ He gave a thin smile. ‘Of course you have no choice in the matter and what you feel about them is irrelevant. In fact I would rather you were resistant. You’ll live and breathe as a ponygirl according to my rules and be broken just the same, which will help prove my point. The only measure of success will be by result. To do this I’m going to ride you in a competition for a prize called the Lister Cup...’
Sam swayed and almost fell over. Toby caught her by the hair. ‘What’s the matter with you, girl?’ he exclaimed angrily. ‘I thought you were fit and healthy...’
Sam hardly heard him. She was going to be totally humiliated. This was the last
straw. She could not do this... A stinging slap on the cheek brought her to her senses and she saw Toby glaring at her. It did not matter what she felt. She had no choice.
‘I’m done with explanations. You know all you need to now. Now I’m going to turn you into a proper pony...’
There was a frame suspended from the ceiling by a wire rope connected to a powered winch. The frame had several lighter wire ropes dangling from it. He clipped her collar to one of them like a leash, holding her in place. Then he got out a set of ponygirl accessories and harness.
The harness itself was of white leather and comprised a cross of straps that went over her shoulders and between her breasts, connected to a broad belt. It was fitted at the shoulders and belt sides with heavy “D” rings.
Next he fitted her feet with white rubber hooves. Sam felt her heels lifted as her feet were slid into the hooves and they were buckled on, their bracing straps with integral tether rings replacing her ankle cuffs. She swayed on them. It felt a little like wearing high heels but the spread of them gave much more stability and arch support. How did Beauty manage to move so gracefully in them?
Toby took up a full sleeve binder which was virtually a tube of white rubber and used it to confine her arms behind her. It was more elaborate than the simple sleeves they used at the Foundry, which only covered girls’ arms from wrists to elbows. This totally enclosed the arms when they were folded together behind the back, hands and all. Broad elastic cuffs sealed the ends about her upper arms just above the elbows. He applied a hand pump to a valve on the sleeve and drew out the air within it. As it shrank about her she felt her hands squeezed flat against her forearms, as though pressing them out of sight and merging them all together into a single featureless hoop that linked her shoulders.
‘You will forget you have arms or hands or fingers,’ he told Sam. ‘While you’re in my possession you won’t be using them. Those are things people have and you’re not a person now, you’re a ponygirl. All you need to concentrate on are your legs and using them to pull a hobby horse where I direct you.’
Ponygirls of Irontown Page 15