Pony-Girl Tales

by Peter Birch

  Elaine had pulled her knickers up and run from the room in tears, thoroughly chastened.

  When she peered in at the algae stained window of the hut and saw Susanna and Jeremy with the cart, her first feeling was of amazement, then delight. The situation was a perfect opportunity for revenge and Elaine had no intention of passing it up. As soon as the cart disappeared from view, she set off at a run, making first for her study to collect one or two essentials and then for the gate outside the Old Vicarage through which she knew Susanna would have to pass. She had heard enough of the conversation between Susanna and Jeremy to know that she was in a strong blackmailing position.

  There was no sign of the cart when she got to the gate, and for a moment Elaine thought she might have missed it. No sooner had she caught her breath though when Susanna appeared around the corner. Elaine clicked the padlock she had fetched into place on the bolt that secured the gate and climbed on top of it, smacking a long handled hairbrush meditatively against her hand as she watched the cart approach. The lane was bordered by thick hazel scrub and deep ditches, with only one of the vicarage windows visible, a perfect location for what she had in mind.

  Susanna saw a girl sitting on the gate and immediately felt the blood rise to her cheeks. When she recognised Elaine her blushes intensified.

  “Hello, Johnston, err. . . Elaine,” she stammered. “Please could you open the gate for us?”

  “Certainly,” Elaine replied, jumping down from her perch and showing Susanna the padlock key in her hand, “but not until you and I have settled a little score. I take it this is your husband? ”

  “Hi,” Jeremy put in nervously, “we’re really in a bit of a hurry. I don’t suppose you saw a horse box down the road? ”

  “Pulled by a green Range Rover? Yes, it’s outside the science labs. Look, I can’t imagine what you’re doing, but someone may come along any minute, so I won’t beat around the bush. Do you remember your last day at college, Susanna? ”

  Susanna nodded, looking puzzled.

  “Do you remember spanking me?”

  “Yes, but I often had to spank you. You must admit you deserved it.”

  “In front of your brother and that awful man Perkins?”

  “It wasn’t my fault they turned up while. . . Oh no, Elaine, you wouldn’t, oh come on, it was my duty, I was a prefect! ”

  Elaine stood, tapping the hairbrush gently against her palm, enjoying every second of Susanna’s discomfort.

  “It’s your choice Susanna. There’s no way you can get through this gate while you’re both padlocked to the cart and if you go back I’ll have half the school in the quad by the time you get there, including most of the mistresses. Well? ”

  “Come, come Elaine,” Jeremy tried. “Why not let bygones be bygones?”

  “Shut up or it’ll be you too.”

  “Oh golly!”

  Elaine continued to look questioningly at Susanna.

  “You’re being unreasonable, Elaine,” Susanna spoke up. “You know I only ever spanked you when it was necessary, and you’re just being petty!”

  “Necessary? ” Elaine echoed, her temper rising. “In front of your brother? In front of old Perkins!? That was not fair! ”

  “It was a punishment, that’s all,” Susanna insisted, but glanced back towards the college buildings before she went on. “It had to be done, for your own good! But. . . but look, you can beat me if it makes you feel better, only please make it quick! ”

  “I knew you’d see sense,” Elaine replied, now smirking once more as she stepped forward to undo Susanna’s skirt. “This can come off I think.”

  Elaine was smiling as she stripped away Susanna’s skirt and took hold of the reins to pull her into a kneeling position. Her bottom cheeks looked very prominent in the tight white panties.

  “Hmm. . .” Elaine mused as if to herself. “Shall I take her knickers down. Yes, I think I shall, after all, she wouldn’t let me keep mine up would she? No, she made sure everybody could see right between my legs. Pity old Perkins isn’t here to admire your fanny isn’t it Susanna?”

  Susanna felt Elaine take hold of her knickers and peel them slowly down off her bum, leaving them in a tangle around her thighs. She was blushing furiously and tensing herself for the coming pain of her spanking.

  “You’re all sweaty,” Elaine remarked, then turned to Jeremy. “Now I’m going to turn your wife’s bum all pink. Can you see enough? Perhaps you’d like me to pull her bum-cheeks open so you can see her hole? ”

  “Elaine!” Susanna protested as the other girl’s hands stretched her bottom apart.

  “I say, really!” Jeremy added weakly.

  “Furry isn’t she? ” Elaine remarked as she picked up the hairbrush. “Well, here goes.”

  Susanna winced as the back of the brush smacked hard across her seat, then again as Elaine began to beat her rhythmically. Twelve hard smacks landed, each drawing a squeak of protest from Susanna, who would squirm away as each smack hit, then return her bum to the required spanking position while Elaine waited to administer the next stroke.

  “Stop!” Susanna squealed as the thirteenth stroke landed. “That’s all I gave you! Ow! Stop! Ow! Please Elaine! Ow! Elaine! ”

  Elaine reached twenty-four and then stopped and stepped back to admire Susanna’s bottom, which was bright pink and covered with darker blotches. Susanna was breathing heavily and trembling, but made no move to try and cover her bottom, knowing that to do so would probably only gain her more smacks.

  “That looks hot,” Elaine remarked, “I know just the thing.”

  Susanna and Jeremy watched in puzzlement as Elaine walked over to one of the deep ditches at either side of the track, only realising her intention when she stood up with a double handful of thick, brown-green sludge from the bottom of the half-dry ditch.

  “No!” Susanna begged, only to have her panties filled with the filthy mud and pulled back up so that it oozed up the slit of her vagina and between her buttocks. She stood up, the mud squelching disgustingly in her knickers. It felt loathsome, but she had to admit that it was cool and lessened the pain of her spanking.

  “How about my skirt? ” she pleaded.

  “No chance,” Elaine replied as she twisted the key in the padlock and swung the gate open.

  “Bye, I hope your bottom gets better soon.”

  Elaine blew a cheeky kiss as Susanna started forward, getting a filthy look in return.

  The Reverend Nathaniel Wallace had been making a solitary lunch of cold pie and greens when he was disturbed by peculiar noises from outside. First he heard voices raised in heated conversation, then curious smacking sounds mingled with cries and protests. He rose to investigate. The sight that met his eyes as he looked from his dining room window made him choke on his mouthful of pie. In the lane outside his garden were two people, an ordinary looking young man seated in a curious little cart, and a girl, kneeling between the shafts and dressed in a loose white shirt and white knickers, only the knickers were around her thighs and the area of her bottom that was visible to him was distinctly pink. At that moment another girl appeared, holding a double handful of gelatinous muck from the ditch. Having finished coughing, he watched open mouthed as the muck was deposited into the first girl’s knickers and they were pulled up over her buttocks.

  “Disgusting!” he muttered as the greenish-brown goo squeezed out either side of the girl’s knicker elastic. A moment later he was striding for the front door, determined to put a stop to the obscene behaviour, but the time he emerged into the garden the couple with the cart were already through the gate.

  “You there!” he called. “Stop immediately! ”

  They looked at him and the girl screamed and quicken her pace. He hastened into the lane and caught hold of one of the complex leather straps that held her into the cart.
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br />   “I said stop!” he repeated. How dare you behave like this? I shall report you to the proper authorities immediately! ”

  “Oh dear,” Jeremy said miserably. Susanna’s foot lashed out to connect smartly with the Reverend Wallace’s shin, but he didn’t let go of her reins.

  “Assaulting a man of the cloth!” he exclaimed, jerking the reins out of Jeremy’s hands and retreating out of range of Susanna’s legs. “I shall see justice for this, by God I will! ”

  Susanna wrenched at the reins, but to no avail, the Reverend Wallace was a big, thick set man and known for his obduracy, both physical and mental.

  “I’ve got you now!” he declared, sensing her despair. “Right will prevail! ”

  Susanna looked into his eyes, hoping to find some pity but they only showed triumph and righteous indignation, then suddenly nothing as an iron boot scrapper connected with the back of his skull. The Reverend Wallace slumped to the ground, stunned, to reveal Elaine standing with the boot scrapper in her hand and a smirk of utter delight on her face.

  “Quits? ” she asked, extending a hand to each of them.

  Jeremy hesitated, glancing at his wife, but Susanna smiled and took Elaine’s hand. He followed suit, knowing that Susanna didn’t incline to bear grudges and probably felt that she had at least half deserved her spanking from Elaine in any case. In fact it was Elaine’s vengeful nature that had caused her sudden shift in attitude. The Reverend Wallace made a point of reporting even the most trivial incidents of misbehaviour among the girls and had long been a thorn in her side. She also desperately wanted to know what the rather proper, sensible Susanna was doing hitched to a miniature pony-cart.

  “I’ll scout ahead,” she volunteered, handing back Susanna’s skirt, “but you must tell me what’s going on.”

  They waited long enough to check that the Reverend Wallace was not seriously injured and then made a hasty exit when he sat up with a groan. With Elaine to help and with Susanna at least vaguely decent despite being plastered in mud and sweat, they made the horse-box without too much embarrassment. Sir Osmond was in the Range Rover, smoking a cigar and looking at a large, silver cased stop-watch.

  “Not a bad time,” he remarked as she drew level, “especially as I see you’ve had one or two little adventures.”

  “Bastard!” she managed, turning the cart to ascend the ramp.

  “Temper, temper,” he replied. “I say, you with the red hair. Would you be so good as to shut the tailgate? Thanks.”

  Susanna sank to her knees in exhaustion, the mud squelching in her knickers as her bottom came to rest on the straw strewn floor of the horse-box. She knelt, panting hard, as the tail-gate blocked them from view and rendered her safe from any more humiliating exposure.

  Sir Osmond let the clutch in as Elaine slipped the last catch into place. She stood watching the horse-box depart regretfully. Life in the outside world was clearly so much more exciting than college. On the other hand, a day that involved spanking Susanna and braining the Reverend Wallace would not be forgotten in a hurry.

  Chapter 5

  In Which We Meet Mr Anderson Croom

  Two weeks later, Susanna found herself standing by Sir Osmond’s car with a long coat wrapped around her. She was nude underneath. The appalling man had sat casually smoking cigars while she had ranted and raved at him, calling him every name she could think of and even slapping him across the face. He had remained imperturbable, and in the end she had had to accept that nothing had really changed. She was still going to race, she was still going to do it naked and Jeremy would still be blackmailed if she refused. The only difference was that she was now fully broken in, as the old gnome put it. Recent rain had left damp patches on the track were puddles had partially dried away, but the day was now bright and clear yet not uncomfortably hot.

  Outside the car, Sir Osmond was standing with Jeremy looking at the map that the neutral observer who had chosen the course had given them. A telephone call that morning had told them where to meet and the maps been given out on arrival to ensure that neither team could sabotage the course. The observer, to Susanna’s surprise, was an elderly woman with steel grey hair and pince nez glasses. Sir Osmond had explained that she had been a notorious bohemian in her day and that she was the only person that he and his rival could agree was both trustworthy and completely neutral. The cart stood close by, the various bits of harness dangling from the eyelets. Despite her hatred of Sir Osmond, Susanna felt the thrill of the coming race. He had promised them half the prize money if they won, even saying so in front the observer who had duly noted his offer as she accepted a large bundle of bank notes from him.

  She decided to go through the same simple routine of warm up exercises that she used before hockey matches. After a moment’s pause she slipped out of the coat, deciding that if she was obliged to go nude anyway it didn’t matter much if she stripped now or later. Clad in nothing but white ankle socks and running shoes, she stretched her body in the warm sunlight and began to run on the spot. Presently the noise of an engine heralded the arrival of another vehicle.

  “Ah, that’ll be Croom,” Sir Osmond declared.

  Susanna reached for her coat, then realised the futility of the gesture and went back to her exercises. The newcomer came to a halt and stepped out of the motorised horse-box he had arrived in. He stood over six foot, was younger than Susanna had expected, with a mop of unruly black hair and a wide, humorous mouth.

  “Here early, Osmond? ” he greeted Jeremy’s uncle with an easy familiarity that stopped just short of contempt, then turned to Susanna. “I say, fine pony old chap. Very fine in fact. Excellent legs, hmm, breasts a little large perhaps but capable of a fair turn of speed I dare say. Hello, you must be Susanna? I’m Anderson Croom.”

  Croom held out a hand, which Susanna took, blushing slightly at his frank admiration of her nakedness but somehow unable to feel annoyed. There was no sense of malice about Croom, only a boyish impudence.

  “Yes,” he continued, “an excellent choice. You surprise me, Osmond. However, I think I may also have a little something to surprise you.”

  As Croom spoke he walked to the back of his horse box and unclipped the tailgate.

  “Walk!” he commanded and his pony and cart emerged from the horse-box.

  Or rather ponies. Susanna could only look on in awe at her competition. Croom’s cart was drawn by identical triplets; tall, lithe, impossibly elegant triplets. Their blonde hair was caught up in triple pony-tails. Oil gleamed on small, hard breasts; long, muscular legs and neatly shaved pussy mounds. A harness system of immaculate construction and extraordinary complexity attached them to a streamlined cart finished in metallic blue with some sort of crest painted on the side.

  “Arrabella, my lead. Britannia and Christobel,” Croom introduced them. “May I introduce you to Miss Grace Chertsey, our judge and neutral observer; Susanna, your rival pony; her husband Jeremy and of course Sir Osmond Cranstone-Vine, retired financier and notorious rake, though pretty well retired on both counts I should imagine.”

  “You can’t race triplets!” Sir Osmond protested when he found his voice.

  “Whyever not? ” Croom replied, looking genuinely astonished.

  “I mean, you’re only allowed one pony, damn it! ”

  “Rubbish, you can have as many as you like.”

  “There’s nothing in the rules against it,” Miss Chertsey commented after a quick check of the clipboard she carried.

  “Besides, they’re on steroids!” Sir Osmond continued.

  “No we’re not!” Arrabella retorted angrily, her sisters nodding in added rebuttal.

  “Steroids are permitted in any case,” the observer added.

  “Curses!” Sir Osmond snarled. “You’re a cheating snake, Croom!”

  “Well, that’s rich coming from you,” Croom retorted.
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br />   “Gentlemen, please,” Miss Chertsey broke in. “Sir Osmond, perhaps if you could get your pony in harness we might be able to make a start?”

  Susanna stood patiently while Jeremy and Sir Osmond adjusted her harness. She could feel her body responding to the adrenaline building up inside her, making her want to run. She watched the opposition preparing, sizing up their ability. The triplets were clearly stronger and faster than her and where going about their preparations with a disturbing expertise. They were harnessed in a triangular formation, with Arrabella in the lead, a system built for power rather than manoeuvrability. Their cart looked well designed and efficient, the metal frame strong yet light. Anderson Croom had to be two or even three stone heavier than Jeremy, but the extra power of the triplets more than made up for the difference. In a flat race she would have had no chance at all, yet cross-country it was at least worth fighting.

  Anderson Croom stolled to his cart and lowered himself into the carefully sculpted seat. The finacial aspect of the race was of no greater consequence to him than it was to Sir Osmond, who regarded it primarily as a matter of honour and a way of scoring on one of the few people he was unable to secure an advantage over in other ways. Croom had goaded Sir Osmond into challenging him mainly in order to provide himself with some entertainment, yet both he and the triplets were possessed of a strong sporting streak and determined to win. He had met Arrabella at one of London’s more debauched clubs. She had been stretched out over a whipping stool, stark naked, legs wide and eyes closed in an attitude of unashamed bliss as her elegant bottom was thrashed with a cane. He had immediately wanted her as a pony and had quickly realised his desire, only then discovering that she had two identical sisters. After a month of careful manoeuvering he had managed to set up the three as a dedicated team with a fine balance of sporting determination and erotic want.