by Penny Birch
‘Yes, miss,’ she answered in a breathless voice more common after a spanking than before.
I continued to fiddle with her blouse, opening it and then tugging her bra up to free her breasts. I caught one, heavier and fuller than I’d expected, the nipple small and hard as I rubbed at it with my palm.
‘On second thoughts,’ I added, ‘stand up and put your hands on your head.’
She obeyed instantly, standing as I had directed, her fine breasts stuck out for my inspection. She looked exquisite. The bra matched her panties: big and old-fashioned but very feminine. With her skirt up and her blouse open and strands of hair falling across her naked breasts, she made a fine picture of dishevelment. Her tummy was showing, too, a gentle bulge of flesh, with her tummy button a neat dimple in the middle. My slight disarrangement of her panties had also left a wisp of dark pubic hair showing at the front, with a tell-tale damp patch lower down. Best of all was her face. Her eyes were wide and moist, her mouth slightly open, the lower lip pouted and trembling, her tongue moving nervously inside.
‘You are pretty,’ I told her, which was true. The disarrangement of her hair and the stripping of her breasts and belly had softened the lines of her face and body, which I had thought a touch too austere to be called pretty. ‘Almost as pretty as Poppy,’ I added out of sheer malice. ‘Come back across my knee, now, and we’d better have those panties down.’
She obeyed and I made myself comfortable with one arm tight around her waist. I grabbed a handful of her panties and tugged them unceremoniously down over her bum, then inverted them neatly around her thighs. As she was exposed, I again caught a hint of the same unusual perfume, but mixed with the musky smell of her sex.
‘There we are,’ I said, ‘that feels better, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ she sobbed.
She had started to sob quite hard, which was disturbing me. Her naked bottom and trembling flesh had me really turned on and, I have to admit, so did the sobs. I reasoned that she had a perfectly good stop word if she wanted to use it and placed my palm against the crest of her bottom. Her skin was soft and lightly downed with tiny hairs, the flesh yielding underneath. Virgin, I thought: a virgin bottom, so beautiful and all mine.
‘Here goes, Anna darling,’ I told her and lifted my hand, bringing it down hard across her seat, then again, and again, spanking her with the pace and firmness that leaves the victim kicking, squealing and utterly out of control.
I knew full well how it felt, and how a good spanking can leave a girl trembling in her lover’s arms in an ecstasy that can be achieved only through punishment. For me, anyway, and I was sure it would be the same for Anna. She certainly squealed enough, and kicked too, but I was taken aback after about thirty smacks when she burst into tears.
I stopped immediately, only to have her beg me to carry on. If she needed to cry while she was beaten, then that was up to her, so I started again, this time using my fingertips to smack each cheek in turn. As she was slim and soft-bottomed, spanking her had quickly made my hand sore, and this was a technique Amber had taught me to use on less well-upholstered bottoms.
‘Harder, Amber, like before,’ she gasped, ‘but right over my fanny.’
It would have been easy to exert my dominance and carry on as I liked, but there was a desperation in her voice that made me wonder if she wasn’t actually going to come. I decided to compromise, planting a hard smack at the point where her buttocks and thighs met, even as I began to rebuke her.
‘How dare you tell me how to spank you?’ I demanded angrily. ‘I’ll spank you how I please, you snivelling little brat!’
I began to lay in with all my strength, each slap aimed so that my palm caught her pussy. She quickly burst into tears again, harder and mingled with choking sounds, then she screamed and I knew that she was actually coming, just from being spanked. My palm stung like anything and my shoulder muscles were beginning to hurt, but this was no time to stop. The irony was not lost on me. She was the one being punished, but it was now me who was under her physical direction.
‘Harder, Penny, I’m coming,’ she screamed, then gave a yell that must have made the people in the stableyard wonder what we were doing.
I gave her one last resounding slap and then cupped her pussy in my hand and rubbed hard. She screamed once more and locked her thighs hard around my hand, grunting in abandoned ecstasy as her orgasm peaked again. She slipped from my lap, collapsing at my feet with her scarlet bottom raised and her fingers working the last drops of pleasure from her pussy.
To my surprise, the first thing she did when she rolled into a sitting position was pull her panties off her legs. She put them neatly to one side, then began to take off her stockings. I watched, happy to go along with whatever she was doing but acutely conscious of one thing. At the very peak of her orgasm, when she was completely given over to her pleasure, she had called me Penny.
She stripped completely, never saying a word, then turned and knelt between my legs, as if waiting for something. It was obvious that she wanted a cuddle, so I held my arms out and let her come into them, naked and trembling, her head pressed against my chest as I stroked her hair.
‘Thank you,’ she said, then, ‘could I be your pony-girl now, please, mistress?’
It was an offer I was not going to resist and so I took her by the hand and led her back to the stables.
‘What about the men?’ I asked, stopping as we approached the gate.
She shrugged. I accepted this on face value, having given up trying to understand her. Most women I can empathise with, easily enough. Ginny was down to earth and playful, Amber complex but open with me, Catherine not dissimilar to myself. Anna was unreadable and often contradictory. She was fun, so I didn’t mind so much, but there was one question I had to ask.
‘You called me Penny, just now,’ I said.
‘Sorry, Miss Birch,’ she answered. ‘You can spank me again if it was presumptuous.’
‘How long have you known?’
‘Amber called your name when she came, that first day. I thought it odd and so I rang a few friends. They told me Amber Oakley was of average height with tawny curls and a fairly full figure, not petite and dark.’
‘Why did you let me have you, then?’
‘No one had ever had the courage to try and make me submit, before. I wanted to do it for you, even though you deceived me: maybe because of it.’
‘And if you’d won the race?’
‘I’d have had you and Amber both stripped and caned. Begging your pardon, mistress. Oh, and, by the way, you are an exceptional spanker.’
‘I’ve had plenty of practice,’ I said, pulling on her hand to lead her into the stable yard. ‘Most of it over the real Amber’s lap.’
The others had been getting on fine without us. I’d obviously put Amber into a submissive mood, because she was still Honey pony-girl and was lead in a magnificent five in hand that was still having its system of traces attached. Or at least she soon would be, because Anderson and Michael were still arguing over how to set the carriage up.
‘We did this last week,’ Anderson was saying, ‘only with three instead of five.’
‘Make it six,’ I called as we came into view.
It was wonderful. Everyone turned, including the pony-girls. The men in particular looked astonished to see me leading a naked Anna Vale by the hand, a shy smile on her face and her bottom cherry-red from spanking. The one I looked at was Poppy, expecting to see a satisfied smirk. Instead, she was looking directly at me, her eyes wide with surprise.
I smiled back, then turned to Anderson, who was holding a swingletree and a piece of rope.
‘Could I drive that contraption?’ I asked.
‘Contraption?’ he echoed. ‘Yes, you can have a turn after me.’
‘Fair enough,’ I answered.
‘What’s the new pony’s name, then?’ he asked.
‘I’m not sure,’ I replied. ‘Let me see.’
I took a step back
from Anna and let go of her hand. She immediately put her hands on her head, standing for everyone’s inspection.
‘Quite beautiful,’ Henry remarked.
It was tricky. Anna was tall and slender but she lacked the athleticism that made ‘Hippolyta’ suitable for Vicky. She had moderately full breasts, which her slim build accentuated. It should be something that suited her, flattering yet subtly humiliating.
‘Dumplings,’ I said confidently, her immediate blush confirming that it was a good choice.
Anderson smiled as Henry nodded sagely.
I led her away, going to the table to look for spare tack. There was enough there to put her in full harness, mainly my own, which I put on her while she stood patiently by. I included my nipple bells and a bow of red ribbon in her pussy hair. When I had finished one of the few bits of pony-girl tack left was my tail, a few shades darker than her own hair, which I had tied into a long pony tail with a red ribbon and a set of hair rings.
Anderson was calling to me to hurry up but I ignored him, instead picking up a tube of lubricant and waving it meaningfully in front of her face. She gave me a startled look but turned her front to the others and stuck her bottom out. As I prepared the tail, I noticed that Poppy already had her curly black tail in and I wondered who had put her in harness.
I had Anna pull her cheeks open and hold them like that as I slid a lubricated finger into her anus. She sighed as it went in and I wiggled it a bit before substituting it for the plug. She took it fairly easily, only squeaking slightly when the widest part went in, then standing upright and holding the tail while I attached the fishing line belt.
She was finished, and looked gorgeous, the more so when harnessed into place beside Poppy on the lefthand swingletree. I then stood back to admire the formation: six girls, all naked but for their harness, four with tails, all with ribbons and bells and all looking good enough to eat.
‘Exquisite,’ Henry remarked as he fiddled with his camera, ‘and I believe it to be a first. We must have a group photograph like this, mounted and with the names and so forth in silver ink, like a team photo. Actually, could you just run through the names please, Amber?’
‘It’s all right; you can call me Penny now,’ I answered.
‘Yes, Honey and Hippolyta are on the lead swingletree. Dumplings and Hazel to the left, to the right…’
I stopped, looking to Michael and Matthew. I didn’t know Ginny’s pony-girl name and I had no idea if Catherine had one at all.
‘Venus,’ Michael informed me.
‘You choose; you seem to be good at it,’ Matthew offered.
‘OK,’ I answered, trying to think fast but not disappoint my friend. ‘Pepper will suit Katie, for her red hair.’
‘Splendid,’ Henry remarked, ‘now if we could have the three gentlemen standing by their seats I’ll put this thing on automatic. Penny, perhaps you could stand at the front and take the reins in your hand. I’ll come round to the back when I’m ready.’
He took that photograph and a couple more, then Honey stamped and I took her bit out to let her speak. As Amber, she asked for Henry and whispered something to him which I didn’t hear, then went back to being Honey.
We spent the next hour playing with the six-in-hand, which was tricky to control but really the last word in pony-carting. Anderson took the first turn, with Michael and Matthew as passengers, a combined weight that said a lot for the engineering of the carriage. When my turn came I took them out onto a section of lawn that was still mostly grass and taught them to high-step in unison, a difficult task that gave me plenty of opportunity to apply my whip to their bottoms.
Only when I was satisfied with their performance did I relinquish my seat, ordering all six to kneel with their heads to the ground and their bums up before Michael took the driver’s seat. I adjusted the four tails to leave six bare pussies showing, then asked Henry to take a close-up of each. I think the way a kneeling girl’s pussy pouts out from between her thighs is particularly sweet, also humiliating when a man takes a photograph in which every single tuck and fold of her lips will show clearly. I half-expected Anna to object, but she never even flinched as he photographed her virgin pussy from no more than a foot away.
I was laughing and teasing them as the photos were taken, commenting on Poppy’s curly tail and kissing Honey’s bottom after her pussy picture had been taken. Henry had been working from left to right, and finished with Pepper. I remarked to Henry on how ginger her pussy was and leant down to stroke it, feeling wonderfully dominant and in control. It was the last dominant thing I was to do that day.
Fifteen
Even as I took my hand away from Pepper’s pussy, I heard Honey give a muffled snort. The next instant, I felt powerful arms wrap around me from behind and Michael had taken me in a bear hug. Matthew and Anderson were closing in on either side of me, Henry winding the camera on.
There was nothing I could do as I was upended and stripped, my boots and jodhpurs pulled off, my blouse torn open. They were far stronger than me, and I couldn’t stop laughing anyway, and so gave in completely. Matthew actually held me upside down and clear of the ground as Michael undid my bra and Anderson pulled my pants off.
I was naked, less than a minute after I been strutting confidently in my riding gear. They carried me round to where the six pony-girls could see me, nude and wriggling in Matthew’s grip. As he put me down, I grovelled at his feet and kissed his boot, expecting his riding whip to be applied to my bottom at any second. Instead, he bent down and took me gently by the chin, Anderson kneeling beside him and taking something from Henry. It was my piggy-girl nose.
Michael rested a booted foot gently on my back as my nose was stuck on, then my tail, completing my transformation. The comedown from mistress to piggy-girl was immense and had me feeling utterly humiliated. As Michael allowed me up into a crawling position and a collar was buckled around my neck, I was on the verge of tears, but had no desire whatever to use the stop word.
‘She’s called Pinky,’ Henry informed them. ‘It was Amber’s idea and I think it rather suits her.’
It was true. No one could say I’m not versatile but, at heart, I’m a piggy-girl. The first thing I did was snuffle up to Honey and kiss her. I nuzzled her face, my feelings starting to balance out as we played. After a minute or so, I was all right and felt in role and curiously relieved in a way. Other than Anderson, Vicky and Henry, no one had ever seen a piggy-girl, which meant that all the attention and admiration were suddenly on me.
I started to feel really exhibitionistic when Henry took a photo of me nuzzling Honey. I like being in control, but I adore being out of it, and this was perfect. A pony-girl is expected to show certain standards of behaviour; a piggy-girl can hardly be expected to be anything other than dirty.
Michael had my lead and took me to each pony-girl in turn so that I could kiss her and nuzzle her face. Each responded playfully, but it was only when I got to the end of the line that I really got into piggy-girl behaviour, crawling around Hazel, pushing her tail aside and burying my face in her pussy. She squeaked in surprise and delight as I pushed my snout against her vagina, lapping at her clit as I forced the piggy nose into her hole.
She tasted of sex, and her plump pussy lips and soft buttocks felt wonderful against my face. I lapped greedily, wanting to make her come in my face, only to have Michael pull me away and tug me towards Dumplings.
‘Don’t spoil Hazel, Pinky,’ he admonished me as he lifted her tail. ‘Fair shares for all of them.’
Anna’s pussy was tighter than Poppy’s, but with her inner lips peeping out from between the outer. I poked my tongue out and licked gently and teasingly against her labia, just enough to taste her pussy and tease her into arousal.
Straddling the shafts brought me to behind Ginny, now Venus, her full bottom stuck up and her thighs well apart. She had been watching me lick the others and knew what to expect, wiggling her bum expectantly as Michael guided me towards her. I feigned reluctance to te
ase her, only to have Michael take me firmly by the hair and push my face firmly in between his pony-girl’s bottom cheeks. I licked obediently, first her pussy, then her anus before being pulled away as Michael tossed my lead to Matthew.
He gave me the same treatment with Pepper, first having me lick her pussy then pulling my head up to tongue her anus. This time Henry photographed me: a close-up of my face with the piggy snout and my tongue actually touching Katie’s bum-hole.
I was taken to Vicky next and made to kiss her cheeks before licking her. I’d promised to be her piggy-girl, but hadn’t expected it to be so soon, nor to have my face pushed into her vulva while she was still Hippolyta, pony-girl. Amber came last, her tail held up and the sweet, full-lipped pussy I’d licked at so often presented to me. Matthew let me take it at leisure, which was just as well, because I was dizzy with the scent of pussies and getting that familiar feeling of just wanting to lift my bum and hope someone would do something dirty to me. Matthew let me give Amber a good, long lick before pulling me away. I sat back on my haunches in the grass, aware that my face was sticky with pussy juice.
‘Doesn’t she look a happy little pig?’ Anderson remarked. ‘Anyway, that was fun, but how about some lunch?’
There was a general chorus of agreement, but Henry pointed out that we first needed a group photo, only with me as Pinky piggy-girl instead of as a mistress. We got back into position for him to do this, with the stable gates as background and me on all fours at the front. The pony-girls were then taken out of role. I wasn’t, but was taken by the lead to one of the stalls in the old stable. He left me kneeling on a pile of straw after attaching a chain to my collar and padlocking it around a pillar. The upper part of the door was open, allowing me to hear what was happening in the yard and see the occasional person walking past. They ignored me, and got on with washing, dressing or helping to lay out lunch.
Being left tied up had really turned me on, before. Now, it was just frustrating. I’d just kissed and licked six very aroused women and the taste was still in my mouth. I wanted more, but it was when the smell of barbecuing steaks reached my nose that I finally called out ‘Yellow’ and Amber came to see what was the matter. She was dressed again, in full riding gear, and once more looked every inch the pony-girl mistress.
