Pony-Girl Tales

by Peter Birch

  “Don’t be such a wet blanket, Jeremy,” Sir Osmond snapped irritably. “Hasn’t she ever had a whip taken to her arse before?”

  “But. . .”

  “Oh be quiet you drip. Right Susanna, take the cart a little way without a rider, get the feel of it.”

  Once more the whip smacked against Susanna’s bottom, and she set off, hesitantly at first, then faster and more confidently. She turned at the end of the yard and came back, trotting smartly. Sir Osmond looked on with a critical eye.

  “Hmm. . .” he remarked to Jeremy when she came to a stop, “ generally very good. She’ll pull well, though her breasts are perhaps a trifle larger than the ideal. They bounce too freely you know. That can be uncomfortable over a long distance, and discomfort makes for inefficiency. Still, I’ll be very surprised if the opposition is any better. Well, I think you’re ready to learn control now. First there’s the loading procedure. Kneel on the ground.”

  Susanna hesitated, then lowered herself to a squatting position, turning her head to look questioningly at Sir Osmond.

  “No, no, knees on the ground. Stick your bottom out more. Yes, that’s better.”

  Susanna shivered, knowing that her position made her bottom cheeks part and that anyone behind her would be able to see every detail of her slit. Sir Osmond stepped over the shaft, paused to admire the thickly furred cleft of Susanna’s bottom and then ordered her to rise, taking the reins before sitting down.

  “Not much heavier is it?” he asked.

  Susanna nodded assent.

  “That’s because my weight is directly over the axle. If I lean forward, or if you are going downhill, the weight will push the shafts down. If I lean back, or you are going uphill, then the shafts are forced upwards. Part of the riders’ job is therefore to keep the balance right, and so exert a minimum of strain on the pony. Have you got that Jeremy? ”

  Jeremy nodded, fascinated despite himself and unable to entirely dismiss the erotic effect of seeing his wife naked and hitched to a cart.

  “Weight, of course, is another problem,” Sir Osmond continued. “If the rider is much heavier than the pony, then the cart becomes harder to control. This is not because of the rider’s weight as such, but because shifts in balance become exaggerated. Still, I have known ponies to perform adequately with riders of twice their weight, and it only really becomes troublesome in competition.

  “Commands are straightforward. I’ll pull the reins left or right to change your direction, pull either to slow or halt you and use the whip to start you off and speed you up. Usually I’ll add a verbal command as well. OK? ”

  Susanna nodded again.

  “Start off then.”

  The whip smacked gently against Susanna’s flesh, sending a quiver across her behind as she set off at a careful walk. At a second smack she began to trot, turning in a wide circle as Sir Osmond guided her with the reins. Jeremy watched as his wife was steered in another circle and then through the arch that led out into the main garden, Sir Osmond whipping her into a canter and then a full gallop as they reached the smooth tarmac of the drive. For a moment they were out of sight, then coming back towards him. Susanna’s motion was smooth, with her breasts bouncing prettily as she ran, and Jeremy couldn’t help but admire her performance.

  “Splendid, splendid!” Sir Osmond chortled as he drew the cart to a halt. “Kneel and stay. Good girl.”

  The old man dismounted, patted Susanna on the head and then took a packet of sugar lumps from his pocket, offering one to her from his hand. To Jeremy’s surprise she took it between her lips. Her nipples were erect, he noticed, and her eyes looked big and moist in a way that could only mean one thing. Horrified, he realised that she was deeply aroused.

  “What do you expect? ” Sir Osmond broke in on his train of thought. “Go on, dip your finger. I’ll bet a bottle of decent claret to a penny that her pussy’s dripping wet.”

  Jeremy just gaped at him.

  “Go on, you miserable weed, or I’ll do it myself,” his uncle snapped and began to move back towards Susanna.

  “No, no,” Jeremy spoke hastily nipping around the older man and dropping to kneel beside his wife. He put his arm around her shoulders, feeling her skin wet with sweat. He had to admit that she looked enchanting with the bit in her mouth and her head constrained in the bridle. She was shivering, and when he looked questioningly at her she nodded gently. Still unsure of himself, Jeremy slid his hand under her bottom to find her sex. His felt her thick pubic hair, his finger brushing against her anus and then forward to her slit. Sure enough, her vagina was damp and his finger slid easily into the hole, Susanna giving a little moan of pleasure and pushed her bottom out to meet his hand. The upper surfaces of her bottom cheeks were covered with red marks where the whip had touched her creamy white flesh. She was by no means new to a smacked bottom and he knew the effect it had on her, yet was surprised in the circumstances. For a moment he considered masturbating her to make her come, which was obviously what she needed, but a knowing chuckle from behind stopped him and instead he kissed her and got to his feet. The finger that had been in his wife’s cunt glistened with milky fluid.

  “Ripe little whore, isn’t she? ” Sir Osmond remarked. “That’ll be a penny you owe me, I think.”

  The rest of the day was spent in practise, first with Susanna pulling the cart and then Jeremy, which he found almost unbearably humiliating. The worst thing was his uncle’s unreserved delight at Susanna’s inability to conceal the pleasure she took in applying the whip to Jeremy’s buttocks. Sir Osmond was delighted with their progress, if rather tetchy at Jeremy’s lack of enthusiasm, but by the evening he had declared them ready for a dry run in the country and spent dinner enthusiastically explaining his tactics. Susanna listened intently, making the occasional suggestion or commenting on whether her abilities were suited to his ideas. Jeremy, although amazed at his wife’s rapid conversion from frozen acceptance of her fate to sporting determination, found himself unable to resist adding the occasional contribution to the discussion.

  “What we don’t know, of course,” the old man remarked towards the end of dinner, “is your reaction to the vulgar gaze of the public. We can’t have you shying at the first yokel we run into can we, my dear? No, so I’ve arranged a route for tomorrow that should get you used to public exposure as fast as possible.”

  Susanna felt a lump rise in her throat. Would he make her run nude through the centre of Oxford or Abingdon? Surely not, they were bound to get arrested. Somewhere else then, but where? Sir Osmond selected a cigar and lit it, giving a nasty little chuckle as he did so.

  Chapter 3

  In Which the Pony’s Mettle is Tested.

  They rose the next morning to find the cart assembled and being loaded into the back of a horse-box by the cook. Sir Osmond bustled them along, putting Jeremy into the back with the cart and locking the tailgate shut after him. Susanna was allowed to sit in the Range Rover, but only after acquiescing to the cook tying her hands behind her back and blindfolding her.

  Unable to see, she had no idea how much time had passed or where they were when she felt the car pull to a stop and Sir Osmond turn the engine off. All she could hear was the occasional snatch of bird song and the distant hum of traffic, perhaps from a motorway. He helped her from the car then, without warning, pulled her shorts down and her top up over her breasts. Without underwear, she was left standing nude from tits to thighs for several minutes while he unlocked the tailgate of the horse box and unloaded the cart. Only then did he come over, untie her hands and finish stripping her, leaving her in only her training shoes.

  As the blindfold was removed Susanna saw that they were on a dirt track deep in woodland. The path was smooth and dry and disappeared around corners a little way in either direction, running between woods too thick to see more than a few yards. There was something oddly familiar about
the location, which she tried to fathom out while she was put in harness and tied between the shafts of the cart, but was unable to. Only when she was completely ready and Jeremy was already seated in the cart did Sir Osmond return to the car to fetch a map and three padlocks, which he used to fix her waist belt in place and lock it to the shafts. Using another padlock to fix Jeremy’s ankle to the frame, he ensured that there would be no cheating.

  “I’ve marked out the route you’re to take clearly,” he began, passing Jeremy the folded map. “Time is no object, for me at any rate, so feel free to study the map for a while before you set off. I’ll be waiting with the horse box at the point marked with a red ‘X’. The tailgate’ll be down just in case there’s a hue and cry, but I doubt there will be. It should take you about an hour. All clear? ”

  “What if someone takes the number of the car?” Jeremy asked. “Or we get arrested, or anything, damn it, something’s bound to go wrong! ”

  “Unlikely,” his uncle retorted coolly, “for reasons that Susanna will explain to you when you open the map. Should, however, some busybody report the number plate of the car, they’ll find that is registered to a certain Superintendent Wilkes of the county constabulary, which should prove amusing. Well, I’ll be off then, it’s almost lunchtime.”

  Sir Osmond drove off as Jeremy fiddled with the map, finally managing to fold it in such a way that he could see the route clearly. Susanna peered over her shoulder, pushing the leather bit out with her tongue so that she could speak.

  “Where are we then?” she asked.

  “Hmm. . . , let’s see. Here’s the M4, that must be what we can hear, and this must be Manorhouse Wood. . .”

  “Manorhouse Wood!?”

  “I think so. . .”

  “No! The bastard! He can’t have! ”

  “Why, what’s wrong?”

  “It’s near Longmead!”

  “Your old sixth-form college!? ”

  “Yes, I recognise this track now, it goes straight there, and it’s the middle of term, the place will be swarming with girls and nearly all of them will recognise me! Oh God, and the mistresses! God your uncle’s a bastard! Maybe there’s a way to go round, where have we got to get to? ”

  “Err. . . let’s see, we go down this track, across a road. . . it’s over the fold of the map. Yes, here’s the cross. It’s outside two ‘H’ shaped buildings on the far side of the college complex. There are a number of longer routes we could take, but they all go through a good part of the college grounds. What can we do? ”

  “Fuck him! Now I see why he knows we won’t be reported to the police. Think of the scandal if an ex-prefect is arrested for running through the college as a Pony-Girl, they’d rather close the place down than report me! Oh God, it’ll be so humiliating, they’ll see the marks on my bum from yesterday! I was never beaten, but I used to dish it out enough, and now they’ll all see that I’ve been swished! Sod him, the filthy old toad! ”

  “Perhaps we can find something to cover you?”

  “What? ” Susanna started crossly. “You can’t take your shorts off, I’ll take your top, but it’s my bum and pussy I really don’t want bare. Hold on, I know, there’s a little changing hut by the sport’s fields, the first ones we come to. There’re always odds and ends in there and everybody’ll be in lunch, so if we hurry I might be able to cover myself and not too many people will see anyway.”

  Susanna set off, running as fast as she could. While she was painfully aware that this must be exactly how Sir Osmond had planned it, she lacked the strong streak of obstinacy that could have stopped her playing along. Within minutes she was streaked with sweat and she realised that the pony tail she had been told to make with her long, black hair was practical as well as ornamental. They crossed a road and, with some difficulty, opened a gate on the far side that led onto the deserted playing fields. They made the hut without being seen, negotiated the door, and to her utter relief found that a there were indeed a few items of discarded clothing. With Jeremy’s help Susanna managed to squeeze into a pair of white panties that were several sizes too small for her and a tartan skirt that covered her bottom at least adequately.

  Susanna peered out of the hut door down the cinder track that led towards the all too familiar buildings of Longmead Ladies’ College. No one was in sight, and she braced herself for the sprint that would inevitably take her past the main buildings of the school.

  “Hold on,” Jeremy said from behind her. “What if you turned right along the river, then up the hill past a building which is marked as ‘The Old Vicarage’, then we’re in woods until perhaps two hundred yards from the horse-box. It’s longer, but. . .”

  “You’re right,” she replied even as she bumped the cart over the door sill, “there may be some girls, but no teachers, not on a Sunday afternoon.”

  Susanna started down the track at a fast trot, her leg muscles burning from the exertion. In the copse of elder and black-thorn that sheltered one side of the hut, a lean red haired girl crushed the cigarette that she had been smoking illicitly beneath her toe and watched the cart disappear with a mischievous smirk on her face. Her name was Elaine Johnston, and the last time she had seen Susanna had been in very different circumstances.

  Chapter 4

  In Which an Unexpected Revenge is Taken.

  Throughout her time at college, Susanna had been something of a teacher’s pet. She had kept the rules carefully and had almost entirely avoided punishment. Elaine was the opposite; smoking, drinking and doing just about everything else that a well-mannered young lady was not supposed to. On the very last day of Susanna’s final term, she had caught Elaine skipping chapel and had ordered her to her study after lunch. Elaine fully expected a spanking and didn’t care a fig. Skirt up, knickers down, six smacks of the hand and that would be it. Having her bottom bared was nothing when she went naked in the showers every day, and Susanna couldn’t spank hard enough to hurt her and wasn’t allowed to cane in any case.

  What she hadn’t taken into account was Susanna’s attitude to her, that and the date. At eighteen, Elaine was fully aware of her body and, though still a virgin, was not above flirting with those males she found attractive and snubbing those she didn’t as haughtily as any grand dame. In the former category she put Susanna’s elder brother, who came to the school from time to time, and in the later the cantankerous old caretaker whose job it was on that particular day to check that all the rooms were free of litter and perishable goods. To Susanna, Elaine was simply been an unruly junior, to be punished in accordance with the rules in whatever way those rules set out.

  Elaine had entered Susanna’s study without bothering to knock, kicked the door shut behind her and bent casually over a chair so with her bum stuck impudently up in the air to show her indifference. Susanna had got to her feet with a sigh and was just lifting Elaine’s skirt up to expose her knickers when a loud knock sounded at the door. Susanna had tucked the other girl’s skirt up and answered the door. Elaine heard a masculine voice behind her and immediately made to rise, only to have Susanna push her back over the chair.

  “Hey!” she protested.

  “Stay where you are,” Susanna ordered, “you haven’t been punished yet. Sorry, Mark, I’ve just got this punishment to give and I’ll be with you.”

  Elaine realised that it was Susanna’s brother who had come in, and to whom she was showing off her panties, and once more made to rise.

  “Elaine!” Susanna snapped, totally unconcerned at the girl’s immodest position. “Stay still or I’ll get Mark to hold your arms. You normally take it very well, what’s the matter? ”

  “You can’t spank me in front of him!” Elaine replied angrily.

  “Why not?” Susanna asked. “I know it’s shameful, but I’m leaving in half-an-hour and so it’s got to be done now.”

  “But. . .”

 
“If you didn’t want to be spanked you shouldn’t have been misbehaving. Now let’s have those knickers down.”

  “No!”

  Despite her protests, Elaine had her pants hauled down, leaving her very round, very feminine bottom stark naked to Mark’s amused gaze.

  “Right, spanking time,” Susanna said, patting the other girl’s bottom. “Six for missing chapel and six because I know full well that you were smoking. Oh, and I’ll be using a hair brush, just as it’s my last chance. Lift your bum.”

  The hairbrush landed with a meaty smack across Elaine’s bum, making it bounce and quiver. It hurt far more than a hand did, making her squeak with surprise and pain. Just then another knock sounded at the door and a disreputable looking man in threadbare tweeds had pushed his way into the room without waiting for an answer and leaving the door wide open.

  “What is it, Perkins? ” Susanna asked testily. “Stay were you are Elaine, for goodness sake, the fuss you make over a bare bottom! “

  “Bins, Miss,” Perkins replied, ignoring the schoolgirl’s naked rump. “You got any perishables in them cupboards?”

  “No I haven’t.”

  “Got to check them anyhow.”

  “Oh all right, but wait until I’ve finished punishing Johnston.”

  Perkins went to stand by the door, muttering about people who made his job harder. Susanna went back to her task of spanking Elaine, ignoring the fact that now not only Mark and the caretaker could see the girl’s naked backside wobbling and bouncing under the slaps but also anybody who happened to be passing the door. It was done slowly, with a long pause between each smack for Elaine to contemplate the indignity of her position. Some of Susanna’s slaps made Elaine’s bottom cheeks part, giving brief glimpses of her pussy and bum hole to other girls, teachers, parents, relatives and anyone else who passed and so soon not a single detail of her lower anatomy remained private. Elaine made a terrible fuss, kicking and squealing with each stinging slap. By the time Susanna had finished with her, her whole bottom was a throbbing pink and she lay with her legs apart, no longer caring that her position left cunt and anus visible. The very worst thing was that Perkins, instead of being properly awed by the sight of her naked eighteen year-old posterior being spanked, had hardly bothered to glance at her. Even when she had been finished with and lay sobbing and pink bottomed over the chair while Susanna counted off the mandatory ten seconds before she could get up, he had merely grumbled that he wished they’d get on with it.