Penny In Harness

by Penny Birch

  I climbed off slowly, feeling sore and a little bruised but determined not to show it. I retrieved my hat and undid one of his wrist cuffs to let him clean up, turning my back on him in a gesture in keeping with my role. Only when he was once more presentable did I think to look at my watch. It was nearly half past eleven, a discovery that put me into an immediate panic.

  My legs were aching from being on my knees for so long and I realised that the quickest way back would be to drive him. A moment later I was in the cart, jumping over the shafts without bothering to order him to kneel.

  ‘Go, fast!’ I ordered, applying the whip to his bottom.

  He took me at my word and set off at a hell of a pace, bumping me over tree roots and bits of branch until we reached the smoother going of the path. As luck would have it, there was a party of walkers, naturalists I think because they were standing around in the path and looking at something in the trees. Their expressions were something I won’t forget in a hurry when they saw the pony-cart. Chris faltered but I yelled at him and he made straight for the middle of them. We didn’t really have any option and they got out of the way fast enough, staring in disbelief as we passed.

  I couldn’t resist the opportunity to tip my hat politely and bid them a good afternoon, then we were through and gathering pace on the open track. I knew who I wanted as my pony-boy if ever I got a chance to drive in a race. Chris (Flabby really was too unfair) went like the wind. Inevitably, I managed to take a wrong turning and we ended up in one of the main car parks with more people. They just gaped at us.

  It seemed stupid to turn around and try and find our path, so I drove straight through the car park and out on to the road, turning left in the direction I knew our horsebox was. By good luck there was nobody else there when we reached it and I had driven Chris in and slammed the door in an instant.

  My watch read a minute short of noon when I pulled through Amber’s open gates. We had probably set some sort of speed record, certainly for pony-boy racing and maybe for driving a horsebox. It was barely enough. Amber was waiting for us, tapping her foot and glancing at her watch even as I drew to a stop in front of her.

  ‘Quickly,’ she whispered as I jumped down from the cab, ‘the wretched woman will be here, any minute.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I answered, ‘we got a bit lost.’

  ‘I know what you’ve been doing, young lady,’ she answered as we struggled with the ramp. ‘Your jodhpurs are wet between the legs.’

  I looked down to find that it was true. My pussy was outlined in a shape like an upside-down harp. That was me caught out with a vengeance, but for now the main thing was to get Chris out and change into a meek little maid before Anna Vale turned up. He was lying down inside the horsebox, although whether from exhaustion or the way I’d driven home wasn’t clear. In any case, he was thoroughly satisfied with his experience and wanted to talk about it once he’d been taken out of role.

  We couldn’t be too impolite with him; after all, Amber hadn’t been paid yet and I’d been pretty cavalier in showing him off to half the walkers in Hertfordshire. He needed to wash, then took forever dressing and writing a cheque but finally drove off at twenty-five past and there was still no sign of Anna Vale.

  Only when Amber was actually shutting the gates behind his Mercedes did another car appear, a fifties vintage Morris which could only belong to our expected visitor. She honked imperiously and Amber again began to open the gate. The car came into the yard and stopped, a very pretty girl in a print frock and a straw hat climbed out and went to open the back door. This, I realised, must be Poppy; she was twenty-three or so, small, with short, curly black hair and a snub nose. I fancied her immediately and I knew Amber would fancy her. She curtsied to me sweetly and then opened the rear door. I watched as someone very different indeed climbed out of the back.

  Anna Vale was perhaps thirty-five, tall, slim and ramrod-straight with a lean haughty face. An enormous amount of shiny brown hair was coiled and pinned under a small hat that hadn’t been in fashion since the 1930s. The rest of her clothing was the same. A maroon dress in heavy velvet with lace at the collar and cuffs, brown leather brogues and gloves to match, a pearl choker at her neck.

  ‘Ah, Miss Oakley, good afternoon,’ she addressed me, extending a gloved hand.

  Ten

  Well, I certainly looked the part. Full riding gear, hat, veil, gloves — the works. OK, so I had an obviously wet pussy, but sometimes you just can’t help these things. The real Miss Oakley, by contrast, was dressed in a baggy T-shirt with a pair of bright red knickers underneath. She had been planning to go for full late-Victorian dress in order to upstage Anna Vale but, thanks to me, there had been no time to change.

  If ever I was going to get an opportunity of dominating Amber, it was now. Not only that but, judging by Anna Vale’s reputation and appearance, I wasn’t at all sure we’d be able to explain away the apparent anomaly without losing her as a customer.

  ‘Miss Vale,’ I replied, ‘a pleasure to meet you.’

  That was it, the die were cast. Amber was behind them and heard me. She winked and then shook a finger at me, simultaneously supporting the deception and assuring me it would not go unpunished. It was the sensible choice, after all, and she didn’t know the use to which I intended to put my temporary position.

  ‘I see you’ve been riding,’ Anna Vale remarked. ‘I must compliment you on your dress.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I answered. ‘Just a brief morning drive. You said in your letter you were considering taking up pony-girl fantasy?’

  ‘No fantasy, my dear,’ she answered, ‘the real thing.’

  I decided not to quibble, although her attitude struck me as pedantic, if not pretentious.

  ‘And I take it your charming maid will be your pony-girl?’ I continued instead and then turned to the pretty girl who was still standing by the car. ‘Poppy, isn’t it?’

  Poppy nodded and looked down with a shy glance at me. She looked good enough to eat and I realised that, whatever Amber might swallow, she would be genuinely upset if I didn’t manufacture a chance for her to play with Poppy.

  ‘Poppy is my maid,’ Anna Vale answered. ‘My pony-girl will be Hazel.’

  ‘Fine,’ I answered, feeling slightly puzzled, ‘but you do know that I’ll need to measure Hazel if you want any tack?’

  ‘That will be quite acceptable.’

  ‘Is she coming later, then?’

  ‘She is here, Miss Oakley.’

  ‘Amber, please. Is she in the village?’

  ‘No, behind me. I thought we understood each other, Miss Oakley?’

  There were two options; either Hazel was imaginary and I was dealing with a lunatic, or Hazel and Poppy were one and the same but Anna Vale was refusing to allow the slightest relaxation in role. I hoped the second answer was right.

  ‘Right, of course, forgive me,’ I answered. ‘Perhaps you’d like to look at some harness designs while my maid measures Hazel up?’

  ‘Certainly,’ she answered, ‘Hazel will be ready on the instant.’

  I signalled Amber over. She had been doing things on the far side of the yard but I knew she would have had a keen interest in the turn of the conversation. As she walked over, Poppy began to undress. This put a bit of a lump in my throat, but I carried on as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Under the frock she had big white panties, stockings and a suspender girdle, old-fashioned but looking very sweet on her. She had high, firm breasts and the sweetest bottom; like a pear, with full cheeks in contrast to her tiny waist. I had to swallow when she demurely turned her back and pulled down her pants, bending just far enough to give me a cheeky glimpse of dark fur between her thighs. Naked, with her clothes folded carefully on the bonnet of the car, she looked very enticing indeed.

  We walked over to the workroom, Amber and Poppy following behind Anna Vale and me. Inside, I began to show off the sample album while Amber took the necessary measurements. The measuring process caused a fair bit of giggling a
nd the occasional squeak. The resemblance between Poppy and myself was not lost on me. The two of us could have passed for sisters without difficulty. She had perhaps an inch more flesh on her breasts and bottom and an inch less height, otherwise, we were very similar.

  There was just a touch of jealousy as I watched Amber out of the corner of my eye. She was measuring Poppy’s thighs, not strictly a necessary measurement unless a hobble was ordered, but one that obliged Amber to kneel with her face at the level of Poppy’s pussy. It also seemed to involve a lot of caressing of Poppy’s bottom. I shrugged inwardly, realising that the most dramatic thing that could happen was for us to end up as a ménage à trois, with me in the middle. My faith in Amber was absolute. Anna Vale, on the other hand, was getting increasingly irritable with every giggle or squeak from behind her. Finally, she broke off from her inspection of a picture of Vicky in harness and looked up to me.

  ‘Miss Oakley,’ she began, ‘I must ask you to keep your maid in order.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I answered. ‘She’s rather fond of pony-girls.’

  ‘Well, kindly instruct her to keep to her work,’ Anna Vale snapped. ‘And do you always allow her to dress in such a slovenly fashion?’

  ‘Stop fondling Hazel, and get on with your work,’ I ordered Amber casually, then turned to answer the question. Amber was in T-shirt and panties because she had been waiting to change, but I could hardly tell Anna Vale that. Instead, I explained that she had only just been taken out of harness and it hadn’t seemed worth getting dressed properly. Anna Vale gave a haughty sniff at my answer but turned back to studying tack.

  What I really wanted to do at that moment was gang up with Amber, drag Miss high-and-mighty Anna Vale across our linked knees, pull up her prissy dress, take her pants down and give her the spanking of a lifetime. Heaven knows what would have happened if we had, although there was a sneaking suspicion in my mind that she’d have ended up sticking her bum up and whimpering for more.

  We couldn’t do it, of course, but there was an alternative that was nearly as much fun. Ginny had said Amber needed an excuse to enjoy submission; here, surely, she had the perfect excuse. Also, I could just imagine the intensity of her emotions at getting whacked in front of Anna Vale. Her erotic humiliation would be ten times as strong as when she’d sucked Mr Novak’s cock, stronger even than when I’d peed all down her front with people watching. Having Poppy watch would get to her too, more so if Poppy and I were to beat her together.

  ‘Would you like her disciplined?’ I asked, judging my voice to imply that it was a matter of no importance at all.

  ‘It would seem appropriate,’ Anna Vale replied stuffily.

  I smiled to myself and changed the conversation back to pony-girl harness, knowing exactly what would be going through Amber’s mind. She was going to be disciplined in front of a woman she regarded as a rival. She knew that I’d take her panties down. She’d even be wondering if I’d let Anna Vale beat her, although I wouldn’t.

  Now that I’d got my chance, the question was how to punish her. I wanted to make it as intense an experience for her as I could. For Amber, I knew this would mean combining subtlety and rudeness. Also, being punished in a way she had punished me would be effective, for both of us.

  ‘I think this design,’ Anna Vale was saying, pointing to the picture of Vicky she had been studying. ‘It has a certain elegance.’

  Most of the ‘certain elegance’ was Vicky and I felt the tack would look wrong on Hazel. Given that I had a certain interest in having Hazel as pretty as possible, I left Amber to stew and began to argue the point with Anna Vale. It took me a while to persuade her that a corset system would look better, but I succeeded. I omitted to mention that this meant that Hazel’s tack would be near-identical to my own.

  She confirmed the order and wrote me a cheque, adding a tail and a couple of pretty accessories at my suggestion. We left Amber to help Hazel dress and return to being Poppy, sipping tea in the kitchen where she could look out into the yard and ensure that there was no further misbehaviour. I took my time with the tea, then had a second cup while she quizzed me on pony-girl etiquette and training. Having just been trained myself, I was pretty good on this and she was fairly impressed by the time we finished. I returned the cup to its saucer and took a delicate bite from a biscuit; it was time for Amber’s spanking.

  I went to the cupboard where we kept the implements for domestic discipline, generally my domestic discipline. Most things were kept in the workroom, but we felt it was safe to keep a couple of canes and a strap indoors. That way we saved a trip to the workroom every time my bottom needed smacking with something a bit more formal than her hand or a hairbrush. Now it was Amber’s bum that was going to feel the sting and I was actually rubbing my hands together in glee as I studied the choice.

  The strap would be best, I decided, it makes a girl’s bum bounce so prettily and I wasn’t sure I could use a cane properly. I took it down from the peg, an eighteen-inch length of thick leather with a plaited handle, shiny from polish and use. Downstairs, Anna Vale gave the implement an appreciative look and put her cup down. Despite her cool exterior, I could tell she was thoroughly looking forward to watching Amber being punished.

  We went outside and I fetched a length of rope from the workroom, beckoning them to follow me and leading the way into the paddock. I had decided how to punish Amber, and to do it in the same place she had given me my first lesson as her pony-girl.

  She must have realised what was happening as we struck across the paddock, aiming for the tall post in the middle. I reached it and ordered her to take her T-shirt off. She obeyed, baring the large, firm breasts I had so often cuddled into. I stopped her as she made to take her pants off, wanting her to think she would be allowed at least that modesty.

  ‘You can keep those on,’ I said. ‘Now fetch a jump and set it up close to the pole.’

  She did as she was told, arranging the jump so that the top bar was level with her hips. Occasionally she would look at me and I realised that her eyes were moist and her lower lip was trembling. It looked like she was scared, but I knew her better than that. Anna Vale was standing with an amused smirk on her face, with Poppy at her side trying not to giggle at the thought of Amber’s coming punishment.

  When the jump was ready I had Amber hold her wrists out and lashed them together, threading the rope through the eye at the top of the pole. Being on the other side of the jump, this made her come forward, bending at the waist so that her breasts swung out beneath her. I looped the rope back and tied it off on the jump, leaving Amber helpless. The position made her bottom stick out and it looked very spankable indeed, with the full cheeks stretching out her bright red panties.

  ‘Stand on the bottom rung and part your legs,’ I ordered. ‘Then pull your back in.’

  I watched as she obeyed, Amber’s legs opening and her back dipping to a graceful curve. We could now see the bulge of her pussy in her panties, a wet spot betraying her excitement. Her soft, full bottom cheeks were quite open, the flesh quivering gently as she waited for her punishment. Her head was up and she was looking back, biting her lip as she looked at the strap in my hand. Her tawny curls were disarranged, half-hiding her face, her arms raised and holding the top of the post to which she was tied.

  ‘Aren’t you going to thank me for letting you keep your panties up?’ I asked, looking straight into Amber’s eyes.

  ‘Thank you, mistress,’ she answered softly.

  ‘Still,’ I continued, ‘just because I choose to allow you some modesty doesn’t mean you should have any extra protection, does it?’

  ‘No, mistress,’ Amber replied, hanging her head.

  ‘A little adjustment, then,’ I remarked, stepping forward and taking hold of the waistband of her panties.

  She gasped, thinking I was going to wrench them down and expose everything, but instead I pulled them sharply up between her cheeks. This left her with a tight strip of red cotton caught in between her pussy lip
s and in the divide of her bottom. There was plenty of tawny fur spilling out to either side, and the patch of darker skin that surrounded her bottom-hole was also visible. Her cheeks were completely naked, plump and pink and vulnerable in the sunlight.

  I stepped back and brought the strap around to land plum across Amber’s full bottom. Her bum bounced under the slap and she cried out as a broad red line appeared across her skin. My second caught her a bit lower, the third right across the very crest of her cheeks.

  ‘Well upholstered, isn’t she?’ I remarked to Anna Vale, as Amber’s bum wobbled under my fourth smack.

  ‘Beautifully,’ she answered. Her face was just a little bit flushed and her tone betrayed her excitement. She was holding Poppy’s hand, too, and their fingers were working together.

  ‘I can take her pants down for you, if you like?’ I offered, laying another smack across Amber’s behind.

  ‘It might be better for her sense of humility,’ Anna Vale answered, doing her best to stay haughty.

  ‘Yes,’ I replied, addressing Anna but judging my words for Amber, ‘you’re right. It’s important for a girl who’s been naughty to have her pants pulled down. I’m sure she’ll be better in future if she’s beaten with everything showing. Come on then, Penny, let’s have pussy out of those silly panties.’

  I wouldn’t have been surprised if Amber had come then and there as I took hold of her knickers and eased them down over the full globes of her bottom. The material that had been caught up between her pussy lips was soaking, and the flesh of her vulva looked swollen and moist as I settled them around her upper thighs. Above it, the tight puckered flesh of her anus showed clearly, bright pink with a ring of darker skin. Anna’s face was a picture as I stepped back and lined myself up for another swing. Her air of steely disdain was gone, replaced by a look of wide-eyed pleasure as her tongue darted out to moisten her lips.