Arabian Plaything Chapter 6
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Arabian Plaything Chapter 8 free porn video
Personal narrative of BABU 25-year old Arabian assistant to CARLOTTA who is in charge of training in the Stables of Quireme.
The new girl brought over from the Harem to be trained as a Pony was quite some beauty. If she’d been a few inches longer in the thigh, she might one day won a top honor from Princess Karina. As it was, when she settled down, I reckoned she would make up into a very nice sort of filly. Aged 22. She was five foot eight inches in height, thirty eight inches at bust and hips, blonde, blue-eyed and British.
I like the Anglo-Saxon girls. They’ve got more grit and stamina than many other breeds.
I’d put Max in charge of her, as one of his Ponies had just finished her training and moved across to the Main Stable. Max is a Russian... well, a Ukrainian anyway... and I rate him pretty highly at his job. Nothing flashy about him. He’s just very thorough and always turns out a Pony looking in good shape.
When I went down to the Stables to have a look at her, it was early evening and the other Ponies had just returned from their afternoon Training Session. There were seven of them, so the new girl, who’s name was Amanda, made their number up to eight. As usual at that time of day, there were plenty of well-striped hindquarters about and there was lots of whimpering, whinnying and sobbing going on as, having been
hosed in the yard, the Ponies were being rubbed down by the stable hands. The noise would start dying down when the ointment was applied. It soothes and calms an upset filly fast as well as healing her quickly.
I went into the stall where the new girl was and saw that Max already had her on a framework and with bridle and bit in place. Max was in the next stall attending to his other charge, who went by the name of Miss Snooty. One of my first jobs would be to give this Amanda a new name. She shied away as I came in. Naturally, a new Pony is very nervous at this stage. I gave her flank a pat to try and reassure her but she
only shied away again. It was a well-formed, nice curvaceous rump she had. Not too large. I know some like them really full-blown but that’s not to my taste. Mind you, I don’t like them too lean either, but we very rarely get a girl of that description.
Going to her head, I adjusted the shoulder supports so they were up high. Her breasts came up with them, thrusting out excellently. Again they were not too big and were nicely rounded. She would need no under-hang strap. As I fondled the breasts, appreciating their firmness, the girl took a backward step. Yes... she was very nervous. The blue eyes regarding me with abject dread, were like little round saucers and
brimming with tears. I saw, too, that she was dribbling from the corners of her mouth. This often happens when a Pony is unused to the bit. I went to open her mouth to see what type of bit it was, but she instinctively jerked her head away.
„Open your mouth!“ I said sharply.
Well, of course, the girl had already been Harem trained so she knew what it was all about if she didn’t obey an order promptly!
The wide, full-lipped mouth opened up. Lovely white even teeth. Lovely pink gums and tongue. I saw that the bit was a sharply serrated one. Well, that was Max’s decision. Maybe a matter of discipline. Perhaps the girl had accidentally spoken.
Or maybe Max always started them off with that kind of bit.
Certainly it would make her glad to wear an ordinary smooth one. Perhaps she would get that as some kind of reward later.
„Close it,“ I said.
The mouth closed. The blue eyes brimmed over and some tears trickled slowly down the soft cheeks. I understood. Even though this girl would already have endured all sorts of torments and humiliations in the Harem, it was pretty traumatic to be brought to the Stables to be converted into a Pony. It took every girl quite some time to get adjusted to the change. Some never quite do. Others adapt much better. There
are even some, eventually, who take pride in being a Pony!
You may not believe that, but it’s true. You can see that pride oozing from them... in their gait, in the toss of a
head ... as they earn the plaudits of onlookers. To gain a Top Honor (no easy matter!) a Pony must not only have good looks, but be a first-class mover and have stamina, she must have that pride as well.
A Top Honor, by the way, means that the Pony is used exclusively by the Princess Karina herself and is exempt from all kinds of punishment except by her Highness. Naturally, it is a status much to be desired. And only two Ponies hold a Top Honor at any one time.
I walked round to examine the girl’s hindquarters again. Yes... they were very good. What a pity about that extra length of thigh though. Long limbs are a very great asset to a Pony. Not that this girl was by any means short. It is that one is always looking for perfection.
„Straddle your legs.“
A little reluctance, but it was done.
„Wider.“
The limbs parted further. A little pink, puckered anus. Delicately formed sex-lips. Excellent. Yes, she was very
nicely made. I might well come down later and enjoy her.
„Together.“
The limbs closed. I heard a little sob come from her. What should I call her, I wondered? Miss Snooty in the next stall had got her name on account of a up-tilting nose. This Amanda, in her English way, was rather more reserved than some, it seemed to me. What about Miss Modesty then? Yes, I quite liked that. I would give orders to the sign-maker that evening and the new plaque would go up tomorrow over her stall, joining the others with such names as Frisky Girl, Maid Maximum (a big-rumped filly that!), Roman Beauty, Urgent
Desire, Bold Lady, Saucy Sue, London Pride and so on. These were the name the Ponies would go by until they were returned to the Harem... although I and the stable hands did not always give them their full title but might refer to them as F.G., M.M., R.B. and the like.
Max came into the stall, having fed and watered Miss Snooty. I could hear her drinking greedily. Had probably had a pretty strenuous afternoon. It had been hot, too. Carlotta and Hakim had been in charge; it had been my turn to take a siesta.
„Evening, Boss.“
„Good evening, Max.“
„What do you think of her?“ Max gave the rump a proprietorial slap.
„Not bad, not bad at all.“
Max nodded with satisfaction. „Very good material,“ he said. „Just remains to be seen how quickly she trains on.“
„Quite so. Well, we can make a start tomorrow. I’ll give her first outing.“
Max grinned and looked a little envious. It is, I need hardly say, every stable-hand’s ambition to become an undertrainer like myself. I had been lucky, having joined the original Stable at the outset and had thus gained quick promotion when the whole set-up was enlarged.
„She’s been told the Rules,“ said Max, he disappeared momentarily into the Tack Room.
„There aren’t that many,“ I grinned. „Silence is golden is the main one. You know that, Pony?“
The girl made a whinnying sound and tossed her blonde head up and down. Max emerged with two buckets, one filled with mush, one with water.
„Made a vocal objection when I first told her that,“ he said. «So she’s wearing a rather uncomfortable bit.»
„I saw that, don’t like that much, do we, Pony?“
Another whinny and the head turned from side to side.
„She’s learning,“ said Max as he filled up the two troughs one on each side of the stall. The girl was tethered to a ring on the same wall so could easily turn from one trough to the other.
„Eat up well, Pony,“ I said, patting her flank once more.
„You’ll need all your strength.“ She shied again. Maybe it was my words as much as the pat. Certainly she was far from settled down.
„I’ll be going shortly,“ said Max. „Got the evening off. They’ve arranged some sort of arrangement for some of us, over at the Palace.“
„That could be amusing.“
„I hope so.“
„I’ll look in later, if you like ...“ I said.
Max looked at me and winked heavily. „You do that, boss,“ he said, smiling. „You do that.“ Well, why not? It was one of the perks of my office to have first run at a new filly, if I wished to!
Having had a good dinner and a bottle of wine, I wandered back down to the stables a little after ten p.m. I left it till then because, under the Rules which the new Pony should have learnt, her trough should have been empty by that time.
However, I doubted if it would be.
The Stables were dimly lit when I entered. By then, most of the hands had released their charges from the framework and they had settled down on straw, tethered only by a halter and lead-rein. However, since Max had taken the night off, Miss Snooty and the new Pony were still on their frameworks.
First of all, I released Miss Snooty. Her hindquarters were still sticky with healing ointment and, although the
red welts were already fading, it was obvious she had had a tough afternoon. She sank to the straw with a moaning groan and seemed to fall asleep virtually at once.
Then I went into Miss Modesty.
In the half light I saw that the contents of her trough had scarcely been touched. It was not unexpected. New Ponies hardly have any appetite, which I think is understandable. I unhitched the riding crop from my belt. It was good for a Pony to learn early. Before me, the white buttocks curved invitingly.
„This trough should be empty by now, Pony,“ I said severely.
The girl shook her head violently from side to side, obviously indicating she wanted no part of it. But that was
not the point. She had to learn to obey the Rules ... and also to eat enough to keep up her health and strength.
I gave her a hard cut across the center of her bottom.
A shriek of pain rang round the Stables. No doubt many who were half-dozing were awakened. They would remain awake for a while yet.
„Get your snout into it, Pony,“ I ordered harshly, „and eat!“
Miss Modesty was still gasping, shuddering with pain, and seemed hesitant to obey my command.
I gave her another whiplashing cut.
„Get on with it!“
Another shriek. Yet, distraught with pain as she was, it got through to her that my crop would continue to fall until she obeyed. She plunged her face into the mush and her gasp ended up as glurping-retching sounds.
„Get it down you, Pony!“
„Glurr ... uuufff ... uuuppp ... gluuu ... uurrrrppp ...“
„And if you’re ever late on your feed again, I’ll thrash you till you can’t stand!»
I gave her another cut.
Her agonized shriek sent some mush spraying back into the trough.
„Eat it up! Eat it up!“ I bellowed. You must understand, it is important to be firm with a new Pony. The sooner they are broken, the sooner they adapt, the better. Not only for themselves, but for all concerned.
The blonde head plunged back, down into the trough.
„Uuuuugggh ... glurr ... uurrfff ... uuuugggghhhh ...“
The retching sounds were intensifying, but somehow she was getting it down. It is amazing what the terror of more pain can do in getting results. As a kind of warning, I gently sawed my crop across the girl’s buttocks, seeing them flinch and clench with dread.
„Hurry it up!“
„Glluurrff ... uuurrrfff ... uuuurrr ... gllluuurrrfff .... uuurrrfff ...“
She was certainly trying!
And, I noticed, the contents of her trough were diminishing quite fast. I kept on sawing, and gently tapping, the quivering buttock flesh.
She stopped, retching and heaving uncontrollably. The trough was virtually empty. But not entirely so. No doubt she had thought she had done enough.
I swiftly disillusioned her.
Two more lashing cuts contorted her in shrieking agony.
„All of it! All of it!“ I insisted.
Mush jetted out of her gullet ... but she quickly slurped it back in again. She was becoming almost frantic in her efforts.
„Lick it clean! Lick it ... lick it, Pony!“
Snorting and sobbing, the girl licked the steel-lined trough until it was spotless. Until I was satisfied.
„That’s how it will always look, Pony,“ I said firmly. „Do you understand?“
There was a pitiful choking-whinny and a tossing of the head. If Miss Modesty thought the Harem was the nadir of any woman’s existence, she was fast learning there were new depths to be plunged into!
I ran my hand over her still-flinching bottom. It felt soft and warm. Warmest of all where I had raised some weals.
„You will learn to obey here, Pony,“ I said. „And learn quickly, that is for your own good. You will only suffer more if you don’t. I think you know that already, yes?“
The blonde head tossed, she whinnied.
At that moment, it seemed to me that she was coming along quite nicely. In a few weeks she would have to learn to walk, to trot, to canter. And, maybe by then, to gallop. It was a pleasing reflection.
I unfastened her lead ring from the ring on the stable wall, then led her through into the Tack Room. Turning on a spotlight, I focused it onto her curving form. The legs looked beautifully straight; the hindquarters were thrusting well. And the slanting weals I had just put on took on a more vivid hue.
The belt of my riding breeches came away. In a matter of moments I was naked from the waist down. I removed my shirt and stood quite nude. It was a nice, basic, a****l-like feeling to be like that amidst the smell of straw and stable.
Earthy!
Lusty!
My loins suddenly seemed to be glowing. I felt myself swelling, then stiffening. It was a wonderful sensation.
There, right before me, were the curving hindquarters. White. Soft. Trembling almost imperceptibly. The Pony’s hindquarters.
Mine to enjoy.
With a hard bond of flesh swinging before me. I moved forward and took the girl by her flanks. She gasped, but made no attempt to resist. Harem-training would have taught her the futility of that!
Easily, almost casually, I pulled her thighs apart.
A pause ...
A positioning ...
Then I thrust into her.
Easily ...
Deliciously ...
Oh my God, she felt good!
What a marvelous moment that is. The first penetration.
Hearing her sobbing gasp. Feeling her shudder. Knowing that she is hideously aware that she has been captured and invaded once again. And that there is nothing ... absolutely nothing ... she can do about it.
Clasping the girl’s flanks tighter, I settled down to a steady rhythm.
Soon I was fucking her strongly ...
Then powerfully ...
I began to feel bigger and bigger; ever more the conqueror. She began to groan and gasp louder. She began to writhe and jerk beneath me.
I kept on pounding and pounding away ...
Lost in lust ...
Faster and faster ...
Thumping and thumping ...
Loving it ...
Oh ... loving it!
Oohh ... oooh ... loving it!
Grunting bestially ... and not caring ... I came to a superb climax.
Ravaging her ...
Reveling in her ...
Totally possessing her ...
Totally commanding her ...
Totally enjoying her ...
Moaning, I felt the strength drain away from me. I was slaked. Utterly slaked. Superbly content. Beneath me, I hear my new Pony sobbing.
On the following morning, I led Miss Modesty (I was already thinking of her under her new name) out to the Training Area. During the morning, Max would have given her first grooming.
Her blonde hair had been tied in a single pony-tail and the shoulder supports had been pushed up as high as possible so that her breasts thrust to the maximum. Those firm, white cooking apples looked fine ... enhanced by the little bells that dangled from the nipples. Max had also put another ring through her nose, with bell attached, with the idea, no doubt, of emphasizing to the Pony her new status. Before taking her out, I had a look in her mouth, seeing that the stable hand had been kind enough to remove the serrated bit
and put in a normal smooth one. I also took a look at those excellent hindquarters and noted that the weal I had raised were no longer in evidence. Fortunately I had remembered to put on some Healing Ointment before I left the previous night. Also, Max would have given them some attention as
well. Even when weals are still to some extent visible, they can still be covered with a special ‘skin coating’ which obscures them from anything but the closest inspection.
Thus it can be said that Miss Modesty looked good in both shape and condition. I had her on one leading rein and Miss Snooty on the other and, on arrival at one of the two circular Training Rings, I tethered my new charge to a post where she could clearly see all that was going on. In the very early stages, a Pony learns as much from seeing how others perform as performing them herself.
„Keep your eyes open,“ I said warningly, „look and learn, Pony! I’ll have you out on the track later.“
Those little blue saucers looked at me with supplicating dread. How, I knew, she longed to be back in the Harem even though, in all conscience, that was a hideous enough existence for a young woman. But, she was just beginning to learn, the life of a Pony was going to be an even more hideous existence.
Moreover, there were six long months of it ahead of her !
All the same, it must be said I felt no compassion for her.
You cannot afford such sentiments in my job. She would be spared nothing. She would be put through her paces ... molded and adapted .... until, as a fully trained Pony, she was able to serve and please others to the limit of her capabilities.
So, with Miss Modesty watching apprehensively, I put Miss Snooty into a chariot-like close-carriage, fastened her arms high up on her back in the leathern ‘sleeve’ and adjusted the shoulder-supports so that they were about three-quarters up.
This is about right for ordinary work. Then I put on the small saddle, from which the stirrups hung down and back, got into my low seat, and put my feet in the stirrups.
The Pony’s smooth, soft-white hindquarters were just a couple of feet in front of me. They were excellent hindquarters, even if not quite as excellent as Miss Modesty’s. I picked up the reins and the single-thonged strap which lay beside me.
„Let’s see if you’ve improved, Miss Snooty,“ I said. „Walk ...“
As I gave the command, I whacked the strap across the buttocks in front of me. It wasn’t what you would call a punishing stroke but rather a sign to the Pony that the afternoon’s work had begun.
A little jerk, a little shudder, then Miss Snooty moved off smoothly.
I was glad to note it was a smooth movement for that, though it sounds unimportant, is an essential in a Pony’s movements. Also, she had to learn to make each change from one turn to another in the same smooth way. No one using a Pony wants to be jolted about on account of her clumsiness!
I was also glad to note that Miss Snooty’s pace was steady and even ... each stride, like that of a marching guardsman, being of the same length. We completed two circuits, of about 100 meters each, with the Pony’s buttocks jouncing softly from side to side, right before me. Here, I must confess, I do find the close-carriage form of driving the most enjoyable of all. The low angle ... the close-up ... are something special for me. After a while, you can sometimes see the sweat forming in the cleft between the nates.
„Good,“ I said. „Now ... trot ...“
Again the strap swung and thwacked across the flesh. Again, not too hard.
After two more even strides, Miss Snooty went into the trot.
This is an easy, unhurried stride which can be maintained for a considerable time. The thighs come up to the horizontal at each stride ... and the whole thing rather gives the impression of a ‘cycling motion’. The important thing is that the stride should be steady. Not slow one minute then fast the next. Like the ordinary pace, it must be even, too.
One of the faults of a new Pony is to hurry the pace of the trot and this soon becomes unbalanced. Or exhausted. Or both. They have to learn to keep a nice rhythm which can go on and on.
After four circuits on the track, I was happy to realize that Miss Snooty had more or less mastered this pace. She would improve even more, of course, but I couldn’t complain about her progress so far.
„Whoa!“ I cried, reining her in pretty sharply just where Miss Modesty was tethered.
Miss Snooty whinnied as the bit cut sharply into the corners of her mouth. She had not been expecting the sudden stop but I had done it deliberately, so that Miss Modesty had a close look at how a Pony is, or can be, handled.
I saw Miss Modesty’s horrified eyes on the now fastbreathing Pony before her. Can this be true, they were saying?
Can this really be happening? Oh ... oohh ... it’s unbelievable!
It wasn’t long before Miss Snooty’s white shoulders stopped heaving. Ponies are naturally very fit and soon get their breath back.
„Keep watching,“ I said to Miss Modesty.
At that moment, Carlotta went past me at a good pace. She had a lovely, coffee-colored Negress - a Pony by the name of Dusky Damsel - at a fast canter, driving open-carriage style.
Ever and anon, the long carriage whip would flick sharply across the juddering-jouncing buttocks as the Pony was urged on to an even faster pace. I noticed, however, that Dusky Damsel kept her rhythm well despite the hard driving, as she swooped round the bends in the lightly-banked track, and rightly deduced she was almost ready to be sent over to the Main Stable.
Another Pony went by, in Hakim’s charge, also at the canter - but a much slower one. It must be understood that, though the walk and trot are always of a standard pace, the canter can be varied according to the wishes of the driver.
This Pony - with flame colored hair, green eyes and very white skin - was known as the Red Temptress. And very tempting I reckoned some of the guests would shortly be finding her!
This Pony was at a fairly early stage of training and finding it difficult to keep an even rhythm in the canter.
Hakim was encouraging her to overcome her difficulties by plentiful use of the carriage-whip every time the pace became uneven or if there was a clumsy jerk. When the Red Temptress went past us again a second time, I saw that not only her rump but her long white thighs as well carried dozens of the
whip-weals and her breath was beginning to rasp hoarsely.
Still, there are times when you simply have to drive a Pony under training hard. That’s the way to make ‘em learn, believe me!
I gave a flip of the reins.
„Walk,“ I ordered Miss Snooty.
Off he went smoothly once more, bottom swinging from side to side.
Jounce... jounce ...
Jounce... jounce ...
Jounce... jounce ...
„Trot.“
Thwackkk!
Two more strides and the pace increased.
Jounce-jounce... jounce-jounce...
Jounce-jounce... jounce-jounce...
Jounce-jounce... jounce-jounce...
So far so good. But I was about to put Miss Snooty to the test.
„Canter!“ I said.
Two strides... and at once the pace increased yet again.
Yet not smoothly enough for my liking.
Thwack... thwack!
„Steady!“ I cried.
Carlotta went past us easily on the inside. She was going almost twice the pace but was very well-balanced. Admittedly,
Dusky Damsel was beginning to sound rather like a steamengine and her coffee-colored skin looked as if it had been sprayed by a hose. When a fit Pony sweats like that, you know she’s really been giving her all!
Miss Snooty was settling down a bit, getting her stride, getting her balance, the thighs beginning to move almost piston-like. That’s good...
Jounce-jounce-jounce-jounce... jounce-jounce-jounce-jounce... Jounce-jounce-jounce-jounce... jounce-jounce-jouncejounce...
The buttocks, naturally, were swinging from side to side much faster now and I could hear the little nipple bells tinkling merrily above Miss Snooty’s rasping breath. Yes... the sweat was beginning to form in her cleft and gleam softly on the small of her back. Well, it was quite a hot afternoonfor any form of exertion. Far better for lounging in the shade. Still, there’s no lounging for Ponies until they hit the straw at night!
One circuit...
Two circuits...
Three circuits...
I picked up the strap again, let the reins out a little.
Thwack! Thwack!
„Faster!“ I bellowed.
Miss Snooty increased her pace, but unevenly.
Thwack! Thwack!
Two more pink-red weals over the wildly juddering buttockflesh. Miss Snooty half stumbled.
„Steady, girl!“
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
„And faster!“
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
High-pitched whinnying... wild jerking and tugging... an erratic pace. I knew she couldn’t do it. But it didn’t
matter. She was learning. That was what mattered.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Two more circuits and I knew Miss Snooty was getting near the end of her tether. And her performance was certainly deteriorating. I took her round once more and hardly let up on her reddened rump for a single moment.
When, for the second time, I reined her in front of Miss Modesty, she was virtually all in. But for her belly-support she would certainly have collapsed in a heap. As it was, her thighs were quivering convulsively, looking as weak as water.
All the same, I knew that hard work would have brought her on a lot. The next time she was set at a fast canter, there would be a distinct improvement. Perhaps a little later, when it was a bit cooler, I would take her out on the track again. Meanwhile I tethered Miss Snooty alongside a stone trough, in the shade. I heard her drinking greedily as I turned back to where I had left Miss Modesty.
She shied as I untethered her. Obviously she had been unnerved by all she had seen. Not surprisingly.
«Steady!» I said soothingly.
Then I led her away from the circular track and onto one of the three fifty-yard straight Tracks. These are used, in the main, for training the Ponies in fast sprint-dashes. However, all I did was walk Miss Modesty up and down, teaching her the steady, even-paced walking gait which was required. She seemed
to pick it up quite quickly. But then, most of them do.
That’s one of the easier parts. After a while, she had settled down quite well.
When I harnessed her to a close-carriage, however, she seemed to get very nervous again. Perhaps she thought I was going to drive her like I had Miss Snooty. But that certainly wasn’t my intention. She was at far too early a stage for that.
I cracked the strap I had brought with me across her rump several times ... which seemed to settle her down a bit. After that I made her walk up and down, pulling the carriage for about an hour. She did so reasonably well. But again, that’s simple when the pace is a walking one and the carriage is light and empty. Still, they’ve got to begin somewhere!
I sat on a wooden bench watching her progress contentedly. This first afternoon was going to be a relatively easy one for Miss Modesty. But, soon, she would be sweating and whinnying with effort and pain, just as Miss Snooty had done.
At the end, I went over and patted her warm flank encouragingly.
„Good... good... I said. „I’m sure I’m going to make a fine pony out of you, my beauty.“
Then I led her over and tethered her alongside Miss Snooty. The sweat had dried on that one and her breath was back. But her wield-covered rump was still as red as red!
Wondering if Carlotta needed any help, I left my two charges and strolled over to the I/C Training.
The new girl brought over from the Harem to be trained as a Pony was quite some beauty. If she’d been a few inches longer in the thigh, she might one day won a top honor from Princess Karina. As it was, when she settled down, I reckoned she would make up into a very nice sort of filly. Aged 22. She was five foot eight inches in height, thirty eight inches at bust and hips, blonde, blue-eyed and British.
I like the Anglo-Saxon girls. They’ve got more grit and stamina than many other breeds.
I’d put Max in charge of her, as one of his Ponies had just finished her training and moved across to the Main Stable. Max is a Russian... well, a Ukrainian anyway... and I rate him pretty highly at his job. Nothing flashy about him. He’s just very thorough and always turns out a Pony looking in good shape.
When I went down to the Stables to have a look at her, it was early evening and the other Ponies had just returned from their afternoon Training Session. There were seven of them, so the new girl, who’s name was Amanda, made their number up to eight. As usual at that time of day, there were plenty of well-striped hindquarters about and there was lots of whimpering, whinnying and sobbing going on as, having been
hosed in the yard, the Ponies were being rubbed down by the stable hands. The noise would start dying down when the ointment was applied. It soothes and calms an upset filly fast as well as healing her quickly.
I went into the stall where the new girl was and saw that Max already had her on a framework and with bridle and bit in place. Max was in the next stall attending to his other charge, who went by the name of Miss Snooty. One of my first jobs would be to give this Amanda a new name. She shied away as I came in. Naturally, a new Pony is very nervous at this stage. I gave her flank a pat to try and reassure her but she
only shied away again. It was a well-formed, nice curvaceous rump she had. Not too large. I know some like them really full-blown but that’s not to my taste. Mind you, I don’t like them too lean either, but we very rarely get a girl of that description.
Going to her head, I adjusted the shoulder supports so they were up high. Her breasts came up with them, thrusting out excellently. Again they were not too big and were nicely rounded. She would need no under-hang strap. As I fondled the breasts, appreciating their firmness, the girl took a backward step. Yes... she was very nervous. The blue eyes regarding me with abject dread, were like little round saucers and
brimming with tears. I saw, too, that she was dribbling from the corners of her mouth. This often happens when a Pony is unused to the bit. I went to open her mouth to see what type of bit it was, but she instinctively jerked her head away.
„Open your mouth!“ I said sharply.
Well, of course, the girl had already been Harem trained so she knew what it was all about if she didn’t obey an order promptly!
The wide, full-lipped mouth opened up. Lovely white even teeth. Lovely pink gums and tongue. I saw that the bit was a sharply serrated one. Well, that was Max’s decision. Maybe a matter of discipline. Perhaps the girl had accidentally spoken.
Or maybe Max always started them off with that kind of bit.
Certainly it would make her glad to wear an ordinary smooth one. Perhaps she would get that as some kind of reward later.
„Close it,“ I said.
The mouth closed. The blue eyes brimmed over and some tears trickled slowly down the soft cheeks. I understood. Even though this girl would already have endured all sorts of torments and humiliations in the Harem, it was pretty traumatic to be brought to the Stables to be converted into a Pony. It took every girl quite some time to get adjusted to the change. Some never quite do. Others adapt much better. There
are even some, eventually, who take pride in being a Pony!
You may not believe that, but it’s true. You can see that pride oozing from them... in their gait, in the toss of a
head ... as they earn the plaudits of onlookers. To gain a Top Honor (no easy matter!) a Pony must not only have good looks, but be a first-class mover and have stamina, she must have that pride as well.
A Top Honor, by the way, means that the Pony is used exclusively by the Princess Karina herself and is exempt from all kinds of punishment except by her Highness. Naturally, it is a status much to be desired. And only two Ponies hold a Top Honor at any one time.
I walked round to examine the girl’s hindquarters again. Yes... they were very good. What a pity about that extra length of thigh though. Long limbs are a very great asset to a Pony. Not that this girl was by any means short. It is that one is always looking for perfection.
„Straddle your legs.“
A little reluctance, but it was done.
„Wider.“
The limbs parted further. A little pink, puckered anus. Delicately formed sex-lips. Excellent. Yes, she was very
nicely made. I might well come down later and enjoy her.
„Together.“
The limbs closed. I heard a little sob come from her. What should I call her, I wondered? Miss Snooty in the next stall had got her name on account of a up-tilting nose. This Amanda, in her English way, was rather more reserved than some, it seemed to me. What about Miss Modesty then? Yes, I quite liked that. I would give orders to the sign-maker that evening and the new plaque would go up tomorrow over her stall, joining the others with such names as Frisky Girl, Maid Maximum (a big-rumped filly that!), Roman Beauty, Urgent
Desire, Bold Lady, Saucy Sue, London Pride and so on. These were the name the Ponies would go by until they were returned to the Harem... although I and the stable hands did not always give them their full title but might refer to them as F.G., M.M., R.B. and the like.
Max came into the stall, having fed and watered Miss Snooty. I could hear her drinking greedily. Had probably had a pretty strenuous afternoon. It had been hot, too. Carlotta and Hakim had been in charge; it had been my turn to take a siesta.
„Evening, Boss.“
„Good evening, Max.“
„What do you think of her?“ Max gave the rump a proprietorial slap.
„Not bad, not bad at all.“
Max nodded with satisfaction. „Very good material,“ he said. „Just remains to be seen how quickly she trains on.“
„Quite so. Well, we can make a start tomorrow. I’ll give her first outing.“
Max grinned and looked a little envious. It is, I need hardly say, every stable-hand’s ambition to become an undertrainer like myself. I had been lucky, having joined the original Stable at the outset and had thus gained quick promotion when the whole set-up was enlarged.
„She’s been told the Rules,“ said Max, he disappeared momentarily into the Tack Room.
„There aren’t that many,“ I grinned. „Silence is golden is the main one. You know that, Pony?“
The girl made a whinnying sound and tossed her blonde head up and down. Max emerged with two buckets, one filled with mush, one with water.
„Made a vocal objection when I first told her that,“ he said. «So she’s wearing a rather uncomfortable bit.»
„I saw that, don’t like that much, do we, Pony?“
Another whinny and the head turned from side to side.
„She’s learning,“ said Max as he filled up the two troughs one on each side of the stall. The girl was tethered to a ring on the same wall so could easily turn from one trough to the other.
„Eat up well, Pony,“ I said, patting her flank once more.
„You’ll need all your strength.“ She shied again. Maybe it was my words as much as the pat. Certainly she was far from settled down.
„I’ll be going shortly,“ said Max. „Got the evening off. They’ve arranged some sort of arrangement for some of us, over at the Palace.“
„That could be amusing.“
„I hope so.“
„I’ll look in later, if you like ...“ I said.
Max looked at me and winked heavily. „You do that, boss,“ he said, smiling. „You do that.“ Well, why not? It was one of the perks of my office to have first run at a new filly, if I wished to!
Having had a good dinner and a bottle of wine, I wandered back down to the stables a little after ten p.m. I left it till then because, under the Rules which the new Pony should have learnt, her trough should have been empty by that time.
However, I doubted if it would be.
The Stables were dimly lit when I entered. By then, most of the hands had released their charges from the framework and they had settled down on straw, tethered only by a halter and lead-rein. However, since Max had taken the night off, Miss Snooty and the new Pony were still on their frameworks.
First of all, I released Miss Snooty. Her hindquarters were still sticky with healing ointment and, although the
red welts were already fading, it was obvious she had had a tough afternoon. She sank to the straw with a moaning groan and seemed to fall asleep virtually at once.
Then I went into Miss Modesty.
In the half light I saw that the contents of her trough had scarcely been touched. It was not unexpected. New Ponies hardly have any appetite, which I think is understandable. I unhitched the riding crop from my belt. It was good for a Pony to learn early. Before me, the white buttocks curved invitingly.
„This trough should be empty by now, Pony,“ I said severely.
The girl shook her head violently from side to side, obviously indicating she wanted no part of it. But that was
not the point. She had to learn to obey the Rules ... and also to eat enough to keep up her health and strength.
I gave her a hard cut across the center of her bottom.
A shriek of pain rang round the Stables. No doubt many who were half-dozing were awakened. They would remain awake for a while yet.
„Get your snout into it, Pony,“ I ordered harshly, „and eat!“
Miss Modesty was still gasping, shuddering with pain, and seemed hesitant to obey my command.
I gave her another whiplashing cut.
„Get on with it!“
Another shriek. Yet, distraught with pain as she was, it got through to her that my crop would continue to fall until she obeyed. She plunged her face into the mush and her gasp ended up as glurping-retching sounds.
„Get it down you, Pony!“
„Glurr ... uuufff ... uuuppp ... gluuu ... uurrrrppp ...“
„And if you’re ever late on your feed again, I’ll thrash you till you can’t stand!»
I gave her another cut.
Her agonized shriek sent some mush spraying back into the trough.
„Eat it up! Eat it up!“ I bellowed. You must understand, it is important to be firm with a new Pony. The sooner they are broken, the sooner they adapt, the better. Not only for themselves, but for all concerned.
The blonde head plunged back, down into the trough.
„Uuuuugggh ... glurr ... uurrfff ... uuuugggghhhh ...“
The retching sounds were intensifying, but somehow she was getting it down. It is amazing what the terror of more pain can do in getting results. As a kind of warning, I gently sawed my crop across the girl’s buttocks, seeing them flinch and clench with dread.
„Hurry it up!“
„Glluurrff ... uuurrrfff ... uuuurrr ... gllluuurrrfff .... uuurrrfff ...“
She was certainly trying!
And, I noticed, the contents of her trough were diminishing quite fast. I kept on sawing, and gently tapping, the quivering buttock flesh.
She stopped, retching and heaving uncontrollably. The trough was virtually empty. But not entirely so. No doubt she had thought she had done enough.
I swiftly disillusioned her.
Two more lashing cuts contorted her in shrieking agony.
„All of it! All of it!“ I insisted.
Mush jetted out of her gullet ... but she quickly slurped it back in again. She was becoming almost frantic in her efforts.
„Lick it clean! Lick it ... lick it, Pony!“
Snorting and sobbing, the girl licked the steel-lined trough until it was spotless. Until I was satisfied.
„That’s how it will always look, Pony,“ I said firmly. „Do you understand?“
There was a pitiful choking-whinny and a tossing of the head. If Miss Modesty thought the Harem was the nadir of any woman’s existence, she was fast learning there were new depths to be plunged into!
I ran my hand over her still-flinching bottom. It felt soft and warm. Warmest of all where I had raised some weals.
„You will learn to obey here, Pony,“ I said. „And learn quickly, that is for your own good. You will only suffer more if you don’t. I think you know that already, yes?“
The blonde head tossed, she whinnied.
At that moment, it seemed to me that she was coming along quite nicely. In a few weeks she would have to learn to walk, to trot, to canter. And, maybe by then, to gallop. It was a pleasing reflection.
I unfastened her lead ring from the ring on the stable wall, then led her through into the Tack Room. Turning on a spotlight, I focused it onto her curving form. The legs looked beautifully straight; the hindquarters were thrusting well. And the slanting weals I had just put on took on a more vivid hue.
The belt of my riding breeches came away. In a matter of moments I was naked from the waist down. I removed my shirt and stood quite nude. It was a nice, basic, a****l-like feeling to be like that amidst the smell of straw and stable.
Earthy!
Lusty!
My loins suddenly seemed to be glowing. I felt myself swelling, then stiffening. It was a wonderful sensation.
There, right before me, were the curving hindquarters. White. Soft. Trembling almost imperceptibly. The Pony’s hindquarters.
Mine to enjoy.
With a hard bond of flesh swinging before me. I moved forward and took the girl by her flanks. She gasped, but made no attempt to resist. Harem-training would have taught her the futility of that!
Easily, almost casually, I pulled her thighs apart.
A pause ...
A positioning ...
Then I thrust into her.
Easily ...
Deliciously ...
Oh my God, she felt good!
What a marvelous moment that is. The first penetration.
Hearing her sobbing gasp. Feeling her shudder. Knowing that she is hideously aware that she has been captured and invaded once again. And that there is nothing ... absolutely nothing ... she can do about it.
Clasping the girl’s flanks tighter, I settled down to a steady rhythm.
Soon I was fucking her strongly ...
Then powerfully ...
I began to feel bigger and bigger; ever more the conqueror. She began to groan and gasp louder. She began to writhe and jerk beneath me.
I kept on pounding and pounding away ...
Lost in lust ...
Faster and faster ...
Thumping and thumping ...
Loving it ...
Oh ... loving it!
Oohh ... oooh ... loving it!
Grunting bestially ... and not caring ... I came to a superb climax.
Ravaging her ...
Reveling in her ...
Totally possessing her ...
Totally commanding her ...
Totally enjoying her ...
Moaning, I felt the strength drain away from me. I was slaked. Utterly slaked. Superbly content. Beneath me, I hear my new Pony sobbing.
On the following morning, I led Miss Modesty (I was already thinking of her under her new name) out to the Training Area. During the morning, Max would have given her first grooming.
Her blonde hair had been tied in a single pony-tail and the shoulder supports had been pushed up as high as possible so that her breasts thrust to the maximum. Those firm, white cooking apples looked fine ... enhanced by the little bells that dangled from the nipples. Max had also put another ring through her nose, with bell attached, with the idea, no doubt, of emphasizing to the Pony her new status. Before taking her out, I had a look in her mouth, seeing that the stable hand had been kind enough to remove the serrated bit
and put in a normal smooth one. I also took a look at those excellent hindquarters and noted that the weal I had raised were no longer in evidence. Fortunately I had remembered to put on some Healing Ointment before I left the previous night. Also, Max would have given them some attention as
well. Even when weals are still to some extent visible, they can still be covered with a special ‘skin coating’ which obscures them from anything but the closest inspection.
Thus it can be said that Miss Modesty looked good in both shape and condition. I had her on one leading rein and Miss Snooty on the other and, on arrival at one of the two circular Training Rings, I tethered my new charge to a post where she could clearly see all that was going on. In the very early stages, a Pony learns as much from seeing how others perform as performing them herself.
„Keep your eyes open,“ I said warningly, „look and learn, Pony! I’ll have you out on the track later.“
Those little blue saucers looked at me with supplicating dread. How, I knew, she longed to be back in the Harem even though, in all conscience, that was a hideous enough existence for a young woman. But, she was just beginning to learn, the life of a Pony was going to be an even more hideous existence.
Moreover, there were six long months of it ahead of her !
All the same, it must be said I felt no compassion for her.
You cannot afford such sentiments in my job. She would be spared nothing. She would be put through her paces ... molded and adapted .... until, as a fully trained Pony, she was able to serve and please others to the limit of her capabilities.
So, with Miss Modesty watching apprehensively, I put Miss Snooty into a chariot-like close-carriage, fastened her arms high up on her back in the leathern ‘sleeve’ and adjusted the shoulder-supports so that they were about three-quarters up.
This is about right for ordinary work. Then I put on the small saddle, from which the stirrups hung down and back, got into my low seat, and put my feet in the stirrups.
The Pony’s smooth, soft-white hindquarters were just a couple of feet in front of me. They were excellent hindquarters, even if not quite as excellent as Miss Modesty’s. I picked up the reins and the single-thonged strap which lay beside me.
„Let’s see if you’ve improved, Miss Snooty,“ I said. „Walk ...“
As I gave the command, I whacked the strap across the buttocks in front of me. It wasn’t what you would call a punishing stroke but rather a sign to the Pony that the afternoon’s work had begun.
A little jerk, a little shudder, then Miss Snooty moved off smoothly.
I was glad to note it was a smooth movement for that, though it sounds unimportant, is an essential in a Pony’s movements. Also, she had to learn to make each change from one turn to another in the same smooth way. No one using a Pony wants to be jolted about on account of her clumsiness!
I was also glad to note that Miss Snooty’s pace was steady and even ... each stride, like that of a marching guardsman, being of the same length. We completed two circuits, of about 100 meters each, with the Pony’s buttocks jouncing softly from side to side, right before me. Here, I must confess, I do find the close-carriage form of driving the most enjoyable of all. The low angle ... the close-up ... are something special for me. After a while, you can sometimes see the sweat forming in the cleft between the nates.
„Good,“ I said. „Now ... trot ...“
Again the strap swung and thwacked across the flesh. Again, not too hard.
After two more even strides, Miss Snooty went into the trot.
This is an easy, unhurried stride which can be maintained for a considerable time. The thighs come up to the horizontal at each stride ... and the whole thing rather gives the impression of a ‘cycling motion’. The important thing is that the stride should be steady. Not slow one minute then fast the next. Like the ordinary pace, it must be even, too.
One of the faults of a new Pony is to hurry the pace of the trot and this soon becomes unbalanced. Or exhausted. Or both. They have to learn to keep a nice rhythm which can go on and on.
After four circuits on the track, I was happy to realize that Miss Snooty had more or less mastered this pace. She would improve even more, of course, but I couldn’t complain about her progress so far.
„Whoa!“ I cried, reining her in pretty sharply just where Miss Modesty was tethered.
Miss Snooty whinnied as the bit cut sharply into the corners of her mouth. She had not been expecting the sudden stop but I had done it deliberately, so that Miss Modesty had a close look at how a Pony is, or can be, handled.
I saw Miss Modesty’s horrified eyes on the now fastbreathing Pony before her. Can this be true, they were saying?
Can this really be happening? Oh ... oohh ... it’s unbelievable!
It wasn’t long before Miss Snooty’s white shoulders stopped heaving. Ponies are naturally very fit and soon get their breath back.
„Keep watching,“ I said to Miss Modesty.
At that moment, Carlotta went past me at a good pace. She had a lovely, coffee-colored Negress - a Pony by the name of Dusky Damsel - at a fast canter, driving open-carriage style.
Ever and anon, the long carriage whip would flick sharply across the juddering-jouncing buttocks as the Pony was urged on to an even faster pace. I noticed, however, that Dusky Damsel kept her rhythm well despite the hard driving, as she swooped round the bends in the lightly-banked track, and rightly deduced she was almost ready to be sent over to the Main Stable.
Another Pony went by, in Hakim’s charge, also at the canter - but a much slower one. It must be understood that, though the walk and trot are always of a standard pace, the canter can be varied according to the wishes of the driver.
This Pony - with flame colored hair, green eyes and very white skin - was known as the Red Temptress. And very tempting I reckoned some of the guests would shortly be finding her!
This Pony was at a fairly early stage of training and finding it difficult to keep an even rhythm in the canter.
Hakim was encouraging her to overcome her difficulties by plentiful use of the carriage-whip every time the pace became uneven or if there was a clumsy jerk. When the Red Temptress went past us again a second time, I saw that not only her rump but her long white thighs as well carried dozens of the
whip-weals and her breath was beginning to rasp hoarsely.
Still, there are times when you simply have to drive a Pony under training hard. That’s the way to make ‘em learn, believe me!
I gave a flip of the reins.
„Walk,“ I ordered Miss Snooty.
Off he went smoothly once more, bottom swinging from side to side.
Jounce... jounce ...
Jounce... jounce ...
Jounce... jounce ...
„Trot.“
Thwackkk!
Two more strides and the pace increased.
Jounce-jounce... jounce-jounce...
Jounce-jounce... jounce-jounce...
Jounce-jounce... jounce-jounce...
So far so good. But I was about to put Miss Snooty to the test.
„Canter!“ I said.
Two strides... and at once the pace increased yet again.
Yet not smoothly enough for my liking.
Thwack... thwack!
„Steady!“ I cried.
Carlotta went past us easily on the inside. She was going almost twice the pace but was very well-balanced. Admittedly,
Dusky Damsel was beginning to sound rather like a steamengine and her coffee-colored skin looked as if it had been sprayed by a hose. When a fit Pony sweats like that, you know she’s really been giving her all!
Miss Snooty was settling down a bit, getting her stride, getting her balance, the thighs beginning to move almost piston-like. That’s good...
Jounce-jounce-jounce-jounce... jounce-jounce-jounce-jounce... Jounce-jounce-jounce-jounce... jounce-jounce-jouncejounce...
The buttocks, naturally, were swinging from side to side much faster now and I could hear the little nipple bells tinkling merrily above Miss Snooty’s rasping breath. Yes... the sweat was beginning to form in her cleft and gleam softly on the small of her back. Well, it was quite a hot afternoonfor any form of exertion. Far better for lounging in the shade. Still, there’s no lounging for Ponies until they hit the straw at night!
One circuit...
Two circuits...
Three circuits...
I picked up the strap again, let the reins out a little.
Thwack! Thwack!
„Faster!“ I bellowed.
Miss Snooty increased her pace, but unevenly.
Thwack! Thwack!
Two more pink-red weals over the wildly juddering buttockflesh. Miss Snooty half stumbled.
„Steady, girl!“
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
„And faster!“
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
High-pitched whinnying... wild jerking and tugging... an erratic pace. I knew she couldn’t do it. But it didn’t
matter. She was learning. That was what mattered.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Two more circuits and I knew Miss Snooty was getting near the end of her tether. And her performance was certainly deteriorating. I took her round once more and hardly let up on her reddened rump for a single moment.
When, for the second time, I reined her in front of Miss Modesty, she was virtually all in. But for her belly-support she would certainly have collapsed in a heap. As it was, her thighs were quivering convulsively, looking as weak as water.
All the same, I knew that hard work would have brought her on a lot. The next time she was set at a fast canter, there would be a distinct improvement. Perhaps a little later, when it was a bit cooler, I would take her out on the track again. Meanwhile I tethered Miss Snooty alongside a stone trough, in the shade. I heard her drinking greedily as I turned back to where I had left Miss Modesty.
She shied as I untethered her. Obviously she had been unnerved by all she had seen. Not surprisingly.
«Steady!» I said soothingly.
Then I led her away from the circular track and onto one of the three fifty-yard straight Tracks. These are used, in the main, for training the Ponies in fast sprint-dashes. However, all I did was walk Miss Modesty up and down, teaching her the steady, even-paced walking gait which was required. She seemed
to pick it up quite quickly. But then, most of them do.
That’s one of the easier parts. After a while, she had settled down quite well.
When I harnessed her to a close-carriage, however, she seemed to get very nervous again. Perhaps she thought I was going to drive her like I had Miss Snooty. But that certainly wasn’t my intention. She was at far too early a stage for that.
I cracked the strap I had brought with me across her rump several times ... which seemed to settle her down a bit. After that I made her walk up and down, pulling the carriage for about an hour. She did so reasonably well. But again, that’s simple when the pace is a walking one and the carriage is light and empty. Still, they’ve got to begin somewhere!
I sat on a wooden bench watching her progress contentedly. This first afternoon was going to be a relatively easy one for Miss Modesty. But, soon, she would be sweating and whinnying with effort and pain, just as Miss Snooty had done.
At the end, I went over and patted her warm flank encouragingly.
„Good... good... I said. „I’m sure I’m going to make a fine pony out of you, my beauty.“
Then I led her over and tethered her alongside Miss Snooty. The sweat had dried on that one and her breath was back. But her wield-covered rump was still as red as red!
Wondering if Carlotta needed any help, I left my two charges and strolled over to the I/C Training.
Elle
- 24.05.2020
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