"The Great Ponygirl Race"
In any era, having land and money grants privileges. Here, in a hidden oasis, the rich play their games, and they are not the games the common folk play. If you are rich enough, you may purchase young females – quite against their will, of course – and do with them as you wish. If that includes turning them into ponygirls, forcing them to race against each other like horses, and to pull their Masters around in carts, just as real horses do, then so be it.
More than the indignity of being turned into ponies, there is the bite of tight cords and the kiss of the whip upon bare flesh to constantly remind them of their status, and to encourage them to run their fastest. Terrible and painful are the punishments handed out by harsh Masters, to those who falter or fail.
An extract from the novel:
“I got this idea a couple of nights ago,” Henry said as he tightened a strap. “I figured that we use horses for much more than racing. They plough fields, pull wagons and can be ridden from place to place. There.”
He had buckled the strap and was standing back to look at his invention.
Wildflower was standing there, looking rather scared. It was seven days after her punishment for losing the race, a punishment that continued for two days and left her a weaker and generally much more submissive ponygirl. This day, however, she had recovered from the worst of the punishments and had regained enough of her former personality to be afraid of what was about to happen. She was standing in front of one of the stables and being attached to a curious looking device. It was basically two large wheels with a seat attached to the axle. Two lengths of wood pole were also attached to the axle and came forward to where their ends were attached to her waist. This was done by means of a wide leather belt secured around her narrow waist and bolted to the ends of the wooden arms.
As was usual, her hands were bound behind her, wrists crossed, and she was wearing only a very short skirt made of leather. The bottom of that skirt came to less than an inch below her sex, which, in keeping with Mary’s suggestion, was completely shaved.
Henry was admiring his invention that fine, warm morning when Mary came up.
“Is this the cart you talked about?” she asked.
“Sure is. I got the idea from what they call ‘dog carts’ in Belgium. The farmers would attach a large dog to a cart and let it pull the cart, much like a horse does. Well, I attached a ponygirl to this cart and intend to let her pull me around.”
Wildflower turned an anxious face towards her owner at that announcement but said nothing.
“Of course, there is no use having a large cart,” he continued. “Too much weight. So I took the sides off. Then why use a floor on the cart when all you really need is a seat? Eventually it dawned on me that all you really need is a seat and some poles to attached to the ponygirl. So here it is.”
“Will she be able to pull your weight?”
“We shall see, won’t we?”
With that, he carefully climbed over one pole and positioned himself on the seat. Immediately his weight lifted the poles until the belt was pushing against her ribcage. He shifted his weight forward on the seat until the balance was more even. “Going to have to adjust the position of the seat,” he muttered.
“You’re missing something,” Mary said cheerfully.
“What?”
“Try going someplace.”
“Hand me that whip.” When she did, he snapped the whip once to get the ponygirl’s attention, and then said, “Gitty-up!”
Fearing the whip behind her, Wildflower leaned forward and began pulling. The cart started out slowly, but it did move. Henry smiled and cracked the whip again. “Faster!”
Wildflower picked up the pace until they were moving along at a good walking clip. Then Mary called out, “Turn around!”
It was then it dawned on him that the missing element was a set of reins.
“Turn left!” he commanded.
Wildflower obeyed although it took her a while to learn how to steer the cart with her waist. Her bare feet dug into the dirt with the effort to turn the cart and still continue its motion.
They completed a full turn and were headed back towards where Mary stood smiling, as Henry was busy thinking up new additions to his ponycart. “Whoa!” he commanded when they reached the starting point.
Dismounting, he left the cart and ponygirl standing while he went into the stable. A few moments later he came out with a handful of leather straps.
“There should be a metal bit to go into her mouth, just as we do on horses,” he explained to Mary. “But those I have are all too big for her mouth. Besides, they all have reins attached and the harness is made to go over a horse’s head. But I think I can rig up something that will do the same thing.”
He laid out the straps on the pole next to the ponygirl. Taking one, he bent it in half to make a loop in the center. That part he put over her head. “Open your mouth.” She obeyed, but with apprehension in her eyes. He inserted the leather strap into the open mouth and tied it behind her head, leaving the ends trailing down to almost her bound hands. Then he tied two more straps to that around her head and ran them back to the seat.
This time he started out holding both reins in his hands. For a short distance he let her go straight, but then he pulled back on the left rein. It was then he saw the fault in his system. Both reins were tied to mouth strap at the center of her head. When he pulled on either, all it did was to pull her head back. A little experimentation showed that for her to be able to tell which direction he was pulling, he had to hold his hands as wide apart as he could. And even then it did not work very well, because mostly she was feeling her head being pulled back, the normal command for a horse to slow down or halt. This was unsatisfactory.
He ordered her to a stop, and dismounted to walk her back to the starting point.
“Mary, would you please put her away in the stable,” he asked. “I have some work to do.”
He unbuckled the belt from around her waist, then the reins at the back of her head. When he told her to step forward, Mary came up and took the short straps hanging down her back from what was now nothing more than a gag. She brought the straps around in front and happily led the ponygirl away.
“It is my guess,” she told Wildflower when they were inside the stable, “that he wants to use you again later. That’s why he asked me to put you in the stable instead of back in your cell. But he didn’t say how I should secure you in the stable.” She looked around at all the overhead beams, ropes, straps, stalls and benches. She led Wildflower into one of the stalls and turned her around. Using the ends of the strap tied through her mouth, she secured the girl in the center by tying each end to an opposite side of the stall.
For a few long seconds she simply stood there, looking at the young woman, especially at those firm young breasts. Her hand reached out to gently stroke the right one. The light touch sent shivers down Wildflower’s spine. The touch of a woman was nothing new to this captive. It was, in fact, rather nice. Still, the tied girl was wary of any attention from this particular woman. She had recently suffered greatly at her hands and knew all too well just how much she enjoyed inflicting pain.
The fingertip stroking continued, even teasing the nipple, which responded normally by hardening. When Mary lowered her head and took the nipple in her mouth, Wildflower moaned. This normally sadistic woman lightly teased with her tongue, running it in circles around the nipple. She gently sucked and was rewarded with another moan of pleasure. The attention continued for a long time and in a most loving fashion, having, not unexpectedly, the normal effect on the tied girl. Her breathing came harder, and she thrust her breasts forward for this wonderful attention. In turn, both breasts were treated to this kindness until both were tingling happily.
When Wildflower was sufficiently excited, a hand reached down and unbuttoned the short skirt. It fell to the straw covered floor, exposing her bare sex. That same hand began a light stroking of that sex. It was met by a thrusting of the hips. As the lips were parted to allow one finger to stroke the most sensitive part of any woman, the moaning increased. Soon the ponygirl was pushing herself against that hand, eager for its attention, totally forgetting that only a few days before that same hand had stuffed foul, hurting nettle leaves inside her. The stinging had gone on for hours and had nearly driven Wildflower crazy.
With a woman’s sense of such matters, Mary knew when Wildflower was about to blossom into an orgasm. At that time, she withdrew her hand and mouth. Standing back a few feet she watched the pained expression on the young face and enjoyed knowing that she was now undergoing a different type of torture. Frustration can be very intense for a woman craving the ultimate satisfaction and denied it. It is, as Wildflower was experiencing, a terrible form of wonderful/horrible torture. She moaned through her gag and pleaded with her eyes.
Mary grinned, and walked off without a backward glance.
Wildflower cursed and jerked at her bound wrists. Then she tried to bring her hands around in front to touch herself where she so badly needed it. Her hands came nearly half way around, but the questing fingers fell just a little short. She cursed again and probably would have rubbed her pussy against some post or the edge of a bench had she not been secured in that one place. She began to cry.
"The Great Ponygirl Race"
