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Introduction:

Rose World Champion Ponygirl ?
Training Rose by Angie F

Rose has become something of a living legend around Saddleworth so I persuaded her to tell me her story for a small, or actually not so small, fee. I had to edit some of it and change a couple of identities but I hope you enjoy it. Angie.


Training Rose


I cowered in the corner protecting my face as best I could as the blows rained down, five, six, I counted, as they inflamed my tender bare buttocks, left, right, nine, ten, and then he changed to flicking up between my legs, one, two, three swats on my pussy lips cruelly held open by the over tight leather crotch strap of my harness and I gurgled in helpless orgasmic ecstasy.

"You're such an easy pony to please!" he said as he unfastened the "bit" from my bridle and fed me two sugar lumps and a slice of apple, and with a final slap across my rump he was gone.

I waited until I was sure he was gone before I lay down exhausted on my blanket and fell into a glorious exhausted satisfied sleep.

It was all so different to how we all imagined it would be, of course I knew about Ponygirls, daddy had always had a few around when I was little, but never in a million years did I think I would be one of them!

Daddy used to be in Parliament, a Peer or member of the upper chamber at Westminster, the House of Lords, until they got rid of the hereditary Peers around 1999, and then Daddy was rather lost, which is when he became more involved in the sport.

We lived in a nice house in Wiltshire, as near to secluded as one can get in England and next door to what the locals accepted as a nudist colony, but Melton Villa, was far from the luxury guest house it appeared to be from outside.

It was the great recession 2008, I did very well in my school examinations but when it came to Universities I just couldn't get any reasonable offers of places, I think they thought with Daddy's wealth he could get me into Yale or Harvard or somewhere exotic so they didn't take me seriously, except Daddy just didn't have that kind of cash, in fact we were hurting.

Daddy had agreed to organise the Oktoberfest which is hardly cheap or easy, and then with the recession the sponsors began to pull out, I was waiting for the right moment to ask about a loan for a gap year in Australia, literally hanging around outside Daddy's study when he asked me if I could help out after lunch as his temporary secretary had failed to turn up.

I agreed immediately, "You' d better look the part!" he added, as he peered at my blue jeans and too tight tee shirt, so I changed into a old white school blouse and dark blue skirt, I even put on a white bra so my breasts were not too prominent through the almost translucent light cotton weave.

We were barely inside the office when Daddy's two o'clock turned up, "Gerald," he greeted Daddy in that familiar way Daddy hates so much, "Good to see you, you solved our little problem I see!"

"Simon, come along in, sit down, Cigar," Daddy said in confusion, "This is." he said.

"Rose!" I said, "Pleased to meet you! Mr?" I queried as I looked at the ageing balding short fat slob as he shuffled past leering at me.

"Dighby!" he said, "With an H," as if you could spell it any other way.

"Well, Gerald," he said, "Waste of time me coming, what's she like unwrapped, got any pics of her in action?"

"I haven't said I'll do it yet!" I said, as Daddy looked at me in horror. "What's the deal Lord, Sir whatever your name is?"

"Twelve months two thousand a month, isn't it Gerald, tax free!" Dighby said.

"I want control of my pictures!" I insisted.

"All right, so where's your tack?" Dighby asked.

"Oh, Fosdyke and Earl are altering it!" I lied, "should be ready by Thursday!" I tried my best smile on Dighby and he said.

"Do we have a deal?"

"Yes!" I agreed.

There was some small talk and Dighby left, and we quickly followed, Daddy rented the office by the hour and we were out with a few seconds to spare of needing a second hour's hire

"Georgina, thanks ever so much for that." Daddy said as he drove us home in the Bentley, "It gives me another week or two to get a team together."

"He thought I was a Ponygirl!" I chuckled, "Wow, I guess that's a compliment."

"An easy mistake to make." Daddy admitted.

"Oh yes, with their perfect complexions and long legs and perfect breasts." I taunted, "Half catwalk model and half athlete, yes I definitely look like that."

"Georgie, look you've always been beautiful to me, but really, when you look at it, in cold light of day, you really are beautiful you know." he said kindly, "Which doesn't actually help me find another girl for the team."

"You wouldn't consider me seriously then?" I asked.

"Oh lord no!" he laughed, "What would your grandmother think!"

"Twenty four thousand pounds?" I suggested.

"No! definitely not." he said, "Do you want to do evening stables?"

"Yes, why not!" I agreed.

We walked the few hundred yards through the woods to Melton Villa, the Carts were already parked outside the stable block and Mary the stable girl was washing Dessie, Desert Orchid, or Nancy Boyd, as she was somewhat unfortunately christened, with a hose pipe.

Daddy insisted on warm water, he just never understood, like the bedding, one needs consistency, there is no hot water or soft bedding at a real event, so why pamper the girls at stables?

Daddy as always went to change, he had his own office and he quickly returned in his white shirt and breeches and his black hacking jacket.

"Will you do Sabine while I do Dessie?" Daddy asked me.

"Ok," I agreed.

Dessie was my age, my height, blonde like me, blue eyes and I just knew Daddy would screw her. It was in her eyes, lust, sheer unbridled lust. I could always tell, it wasn't rocket science, if Daddy took them to the tack room then that was one thing, but he took Dessie straight to her room, that way she couldn't resist, not that she wanted to, but there is a protocol to be observed.

I took hold of Sabrine's reins and led her gently to the tack room, she wore a standard working rig, shoulder straps coming down in a vee between her breasts to join the under breast strap, then the wide waist belt over a tight leather lace up corset and the crotch strap pulled tight so her lower lips, Labia Majore were permanently parted.

Sabrine wore the elaborate wide wrist cuffs necessary for pulling the two wheeled cart which was parked outside, her given name was conveniently Sabrina, Sabrina Hollingsworth, so Daddy simply changed one letter before registering her.

I un buckled her tack and laid it on the bench before I led her to the bath a simple hole four feet deep by a yard or so square where they could stand in thermostatically controlled bliss as the aches of the day were soothed away.

I left her bridle on as I scrubbed the dirt of the day from the harness and when I had finished I found her bathrobe and towel and laid them beside her, she hauled herself out of the water, emerging like a mermaid, and she undid her own bridle, and set it down.

"Phew!" she said, "Thanks." she grabbed the towel, "I am going to sleep for thirty six hours straight!" she told me, "They had me hauling fire wood!" and then she asked, "Are you coming to tea?"

I sometimes joined them, listening to their tales while they had their meal, usually they turned in around eight, in their individual "Stables" with comfy single beds and lockers for their things and CD player and DVD and TV and Computers, all in a nicely centrally heated double glazed freshly painted "Stable Block" better accommodation by far than your average student enjoyed!

Dot was waiting with Marmon as Sabrine dressed, waiting to use the bath and other facities, "You're welcome to stay, "Rose!" Dot chuckled knowingly.

"It's not funny!" I said, "He genuinely thought I was a Ponygirl!"

"You certainly have the looks but no way do you have the temprament," Dot, Dorothy Channing, Daddy's head groom laughed, "Oh dear no!"

"He thought I was a Ponygirl!" I told them at Tea, "Dighby, I could see it so I went along with it!"

"She called herself Rose!" Dot announced, "And do you know there isn't a Rose listed anywhere," she said, "I looked."

I watched the girls empty the plates of Salmon and then Chicken they were given, their appetites three or four times that of my own as they consumed just lean meat and a tiny sprinkling of vegetables and fruits, washed down with fruit juice and then, just like spoiled pets they sprawled on the couches and bean bags inn the lounge in their casual clothes and watched TV for while before they grew tired and drifted away to bed.

"Dot," I asked, "Could I fill in as a Ponygirl if Daddy can't find one?"

"Ah," she said thoughtfully, "well you have the looks, but, it wouldn't be right, and you know how Daddy likes to bond with his Ponies."

Oh I knew all right, I came home from school early once and there he was, standing between the shafts of a Pony cart behind the Ponygirl who was bent almost double the flap on his breeches down,and her crotch strap undone as he thrust into her and she trust back equally enthusiastically.

The image had a profound effect on me, shocked me, and I had stood watching them until they gasped and Daddy leaped back into the Cart and had whipped the over excited Ponygirl into a rapid trot.

"I'll see you later," he had said to me as he passed.

Sometimes after that he took me with him in the four in hand, and showed me how to drive with whip and reins, especially how to change hands and whip the left pair and right pair equally and to see who was puling and who not by the tension of the straps.

"I'd be delighted if you would join us, perhaps as a groom or trainer?" Dot dragged me back to the present.

"Perhaps," I said, but I knew most successful trainers had themselves been Ponygirls, few grooms became trainers without starting at the bottom so to speak.

Daddy was in the study when I got home, he had the Club website on the big monitor and was checking what was available.

"Daddy," I said, "Can I go to Sydney for a while,"

"Sidney who?" he said absent mindedly.

"Australia?" I said.

"Look, Kitten," he said, and this sounded ominous, "Bit short of funds, ah, at present." he confessed.

"But it's quite cheap!" I said.

"Look," he said, "I can't meet my obligation for Henley really, let alone the Oktoberfest, look at the figures!"

I looked at the book he offered me,

"What is the blue ink Daddy?" I asked.

"Suspected Bad debts." he said, "Cheques in the post that sort of thing," he said, "They think we're rich just because I drive a Bentley and we live in a nice house!" he exclaimed.

"We are aren't we?" I asked.

"Not at this rate, Kitten, not at this rate!" he insisted.

We looked at the site Daddy, really needed a transfer, an experienced girl preferably but we could see from the CVs they were really not of the standard Daddy needed, he thought he could get a fresh girl, I think he had my friend Harriet in mind, or that Barmaid from the "Greyhound" but for whatever reason Silvana and Evie had both decided to retire so Daddy was in serious trouble.

"Looks like it's me or nothing!" I said sweetly.

"No," he said "Definately not!"

"I'll make her an offer I think!" Daddy suggested, as he flicked back, "her, Lynva."

"But she's foreign!" I protested, a whole series of fifths and sixths were her best results.

"Well what other option is there?" he asked, I saw he kept flicking back to a girl named Byron's Beauty, "You keep on looking, I'll rustle up some coffee." he suggested.

I took his place and scrolled up and down the vacancies pages.

I couldn't believe some of the deals, no wonder Daddy was struggling to attract new talent,
John Bryant of Saddleworth offering forty thousand pounds as a sort of transfer fee to the trainer or "Owner," in Ponygirl parlance.

I started thinking, it seemed quite logical.

"Daddy, why can't I do it?" I asked as he came back.

"No, you can't be my Ponygirl, but you can help Dot if you like." he said, "or how about you go and see your mother in Monaco."

"I suppose," I said my mind working overtime.

"Good, it will give me some peace!" he said.

I sort of mulled things over in my head,

I woke late next morning, Mrs Giles Daddy's housekeeper was really off with me because I made her late making the bed but she made my breakfast and I went into Daddy's study and logged on to the Club website.

It was a bit naughty I admit, but I used some of Dessie, that's Nancy Boyd's, details and pictures of her tacked up and my own passport picture, and I registered myself as Rose Giles, using Mrs Giles surname and I used my own registration as assistant trainer as owner trainer, and I put myself on line!

It was just a joke really, but within an hour Bryant's of Saddleworth had emailed with an offer, luckily they emailed my own account, rather than Daddy's Ponyplay account.

It was a very very good offer. very very good indeed! They even included terms and conditions and an acceptance form.

Daddy came home in a foul mood, more investor trouble, and well, I offered to be a stand in Ponygirl again.

"No, No and Thrice No!" he said paraphrasing Shakespeare, "Just drop it all right." he said.

"I'll go and see Mummy then." I suggested.

"Yes, good idea!" he agreed. "Anything to stop you going on about being a Ponygirl!"

I accepted Bryant's offer, I agreed to start a week Monday and they would collect me from Glossop Sation.

I packed a case and went to see Mummy in Monte Carlo, and when I was sure the money had arrived safely in my on line bank account I set off back for England.

I went via Eurostar and then to Sheffield and got a Taxi to Glossop Station. Mr Bryant came in person to pick me up when I phoned, he seemed very nice, "Miss Giles?" he asked.

"Yes, Rose," I said.

"Right, I think I'll be seeing a lot more of you," he said with something of a leer, "You can do a the hundred metres in thirteen seconds and the four hundred in the fifty fives?" he asked.

"Oh yes," I agreed, "In the thirteens not thirteen dead,"

"Well we'll test you and if you can't it's deal off," he said frimly, "Did you bring your tack?"

"No, I don't have my own." I explained as I carried my holdall to his car.

"No problem, we like to keep to our own in any case!" he said.

I squirmed slightly, slightly nervously, as he stared at my legs through the tracksuit bottoms I was wearing with my trainers and tee shirt.

He had a brand new Lexus, one of the Range Rover clones they make, and we were soon purring up past the reservoirs and up the hillside until we were high on Saddleworth Moor, the track deteriorated and soon the tarmac was left behind, and then he stopped, by a white post.

"Hundred yards from here to that gate yonder," he said, "You got fourteen seconds."

"I need a warm up!" I protested.

"So warm up." he said, he was older than Daddy, sort of a Yorkshireman, big powerful.

I climbed out and did my warm up exercises Miss Higginbotham had taught me, running on the spot, star jumps etc. and then when the blood was pumping I said "Ready when you are."

He just said "Go," no ready set, just "Go," so I went, luckily the turf was springy as I sprinted and I just lunged for that gate.

"Back go!" he ordered and I sprinted back, I was gasping for breath as I got back.

"What the hell did they let you go for?" he asked in surprise, "That was under fourteen coming back!" he thought, "That's fast." he said, "very fast," and he thought, "Maybe you're no good at something, I just took a punt on those sprint figures, oh and your pictures of course, and of course the pedigree a Melton girl."

I was sweating profusely, despite the cold wind cutting across the moor. "Yes," I agreed, "I don't know why they didn't want me," I paused, "I thought I was doing well."

The farm was intended to look derelict to keep prying eyes at bay but I knew Bryants were among the best trainers there were, but as we splashed into the yard through six inch deep puddles I wondered if they hadn't gone too far!

Mrs Bryant met us at the door, "Come in and have a feed girl!" she insisted, the fayre was plentiful, great slices of lean roast beef and a few peas and carrots with sliced apples to finish all washed down with a delicious fruity cordial.

"Come through and I'll sort your Tack," Mrs Bryant suggested when I finished eating and I followed her through to a room beyond the kitchen.

Tack hung in great profusion, "Henry likes pale tan for blondes." she said, "I'm Martha, by the way, shall we try this?" she asked, as she held up a corset and waist belt in tan coloured leather, "Slip your jacket off."

I did as she said and she pulled up my Tee shirt and buckled it round me, "Nice Tan," she commented.

"Monte Carlo!" I said, "Mummy lives there."

"Is that too tight?" she asked as she tweaked the laces on the corset.

"It is a bit but it will be all right," I agreed.

"Best have your Tee shirt off for the next bit," she suggested, and I quickly slipped my Tee shirt off ,"Oh that's a fancy bra, best slip that off and all," she said so I did, I felt a bit odd standing there bare breasted but she seemed nice enough.

"Have you done cart work?" she asked.

"A bit," I lied, "twin shaft" I added, "With broad cuffs,"

"Good," she replied, "Lets try the cuffs next," she said and buckled the triple buckle cuffs around both my wrists, "We like the north country rest position, I don't suppose you tried that?" she asked.

"No," I said honestly enough, tried it, I hadn't a clue what it was!

She showed me, a short strap between my wrist cuffs, "Hands behind your head," she said

I tried it, it felt most odd, "and the elbow clincher," she said as she passed a strap around my elbows and pulled them together behind my back, "Look how good your breasts look!" she said pointing to the mirror.

We looked an odd pair, her in her fifties with greying hair dressed in the fashions of the nineteen forties me half naked with my breasts thrust out, "It's a bit odd!" I ventured.

"We use a leather cap instead of open bridle, I'll see if this one will do," she suggested, "You got a lot of hair," she added, "Make a beautiful mane."

She picked up a leather cap and scooped up my flowing blonde hair and fed it through the ring on the upper back of the cap and gradually eased it over my head until at last only my face protruded, she added the wide neck straps and asked how it felt.

"Sounds are muffled," I said.

"Yes," she agreed, "Keeps your ears warm." and then she said "open," and "Try the bit,"

It felt horrible, I tried to tell her so but she tightened the strap, "Unggh," I said.

I shook my head and stamped.

"Stop it, bad pony." she said and thats when she hit me with the whip.

I whipped round and kicked her hard. "Henry!" she wailed.

I whipped round but as I faced him Mrs Bryant caught me from behind and Mr Bryant picked up something from the bench and put bit over my face.

"Best we blinker her Martha" he said, no wonder his lordship got shot, what a bloody Madam!"

I found out later the blinker, or blinder actually strapped to the leather cap, blinding me completely.

"Pull the leather sleeve over her hand tie Martha she's marking her neck." Mr Bryant insisted, and I felt Martha working with something soft around my imprisoned hands as they passed around my neck.

"Beh Nung Nung queh," I threatened.

"Well use a wide belt and a single shaft," Mr Bryant suggested, "and we'll clit and tit her now while we're at it."

I felt the Corset being removed, a wide belt was passed around my waist and buckled firmly in position, but no crotch belt then someone pulled down my tracksuit bottoms and panties, balling them round my feet and pulling my socks and trainers off with them.

Something was passed around my left ankle, a loop or noose and before I could kick it away a second was passed around my right ankle and somehow my ankles were pulled apart despite my best efforts and I did the splits and would have fallen if someone, Mr Bryant I think hadn't gently guided me down.

"I've got it Henry, do you want the freezer." Martha asked.

"No, this one needs to know pain, give her a few swats and see if we can find the little critter." he suggested.

She hit me, on the tender underside of my breasts, then on my sex, right on the lips, it stung, my god how it stung, "Got it," Mr Bryant announced, "There it is, whoa ho, there it," there was a click and the most excruciating pain I have ever endured coursed through me from the very innermost secret part of me to assault my brain and dissolve into a million agonising fireflies. "There it is, done." he said.

"Pliers and the solder gun please Martha." Mr Bryant asked, and before I realised my left breast exploded into an agonising firecracker of an explosion followed by my right breast.

"Bar bells on the Tits Henry!" Martha suggested, "I got the iron hot!"

"This won't hurt a bit," Mr Bryant said, "In fact it will hurt a lot, so much so that you might pass out but don't worry." he said, "I'm just making a loop for your new clit ring."

He lied, it was a bit hot but nothing compared to the agony of making the initial hole.

"Just hold still," he said, and I suppose he soldered the loop shut, and then he pressed something through each nipple and soldered that judging by the awful stench of burning flesh and the agony I experienced.

"Right, welcome to Pony land," Mr Bryant said, "This is proper training, Yorkshire style, no mamby pamby beds and TV's, Computers, parties just a hard slog, and when its over you will sleep and when you wake you will want to train again because you're so cold and uncomfortable in your stall."

"Beleop Phog!" I exclaimed,

"Just pack in the back chat one stamp for yes two for no." he said, "Understand?" I stamped twice, so he continued, "Show her where she sleeps Martha!"

She led me away barefoot from the room, out of the door and across the yard and I heard her open a door, "In there," she said. and she pushed me into a pile of staw and slammed the door behind me.

I cried and cried, I just lay for ages sobbing, then I sat up, and listened, and despite the tight leather cap or helmet enveloping my entire head and covering my ears I began to make out sounds, the steady thunder of vehicles, it must be the distant sounds of the Motorway and then the sounds of other people or animals and finally the sounds of the TV the theme tune to Coronation Street, it could only be nine o'clock.

I thought back a day, saying goodbye to Mummy, going first class on Eurostar to get a good seat and finding it was almost empty, leaving my own documents in the safety deposit at Daddy's bank while I changed trains, and I remembered that beautiful dress I saw just after I put my credit cards in that safety deposit so I couldn't buy it, and now this naked and helpless.

I lay there for ages until I heard the ten o'clock TV news theme and then I explored carefully, it was a stable stall, straw on the floor, it smelled clean, I picked a spot beside the door for my dirty spot, kicked the straw away, and then I laid down, and stood up, and paced around, and thought.

You see I thought Daddy used the same training technique as everyone else, I really had no idea, of course I realised later, but you see an elegant girl from the Don Valley, Sheffield, Doncaster, she will be the result of a one night stand, drunken almost certainly, between an elegant chap and a local girl, maybe herself the result of a similar liaison, but she will be coarse and aggressive, so she'll need breaking.

Whereas I was broken years ago by the bitches at that awful school Daddy sent me to, no Ciggies behind the bike sheds for me, oh no cold shower, eat, prep, class, eat, prep, class, eat, cold shower, sleep. That was my life from Nine to Thirteen yers old.

So I got thirteen GCSEs, so what, and Four A levels but not straight As, I got a B in Art, and missed my chosen University course.

It was cold and my arms hurt until they went numb, and I shivered, and it got colder and the wind howled and the rain rattled on the tin, and after an eternity someone came for me.

"Best get you cleaned out young filly," a woman's voice said as she opened the door, "Walk on."
she slapped my left buttock with a whip.

I leapt forward, "Steady!" she said, "You're a lively one!" she commented, "Best have thee reins on afore us gets outside in the shit." and she clipped the reins to the end of my bit, and led me away, it was terrifying, the cold mud squelched between my toes and I followed blindly.

"Woah," she said, "Bend!" I stopped, "Bloody Bend!" she said and whipped me across the shoulders,

"Albert!" she said, "Bitch wont bend,"

"Her ent broke proper," a male voice said, "Ass like a knitting needle,"

"Hold her head then Albert!" she said and the next thing I knew Albert had wrenched my head down to my knees, and braced himself so I couldn't move.

I heard water running and then it hit me, right against my left bum cheek, it was freezing obviously from a hose pipe and then it homed in on my bum, I thought they were just going to wash me but she pushed the jet right against the bud of my bum hole and water started to squirt inside me, horrible freezing water up my bum freezing me inside, I wailed and stamped but she pushed harder and the cold metal of the hose nozzle eased inside my bum hole, I felt the freezing water filling me, I kicked and squirmed, they couldn't get to their whips, but I couldn't break their grip either.

"NNnnnuuuunnnngggg" I wailed into my bit but the carried on, I shook furiously shivering, and then suddenly the water jet splashed across my leg and the water began to run out of me, "Yuck what a mess!" I recognised Mr Henry Bryant's voice, "You better carry on till it runs clear, " he said and they shoved the pipe back in me again.

"Wriggle it about Annie loosen her up," he advised, "She's certainly got some pedigree," he said, "One of his Lordship's bastards I'll wager, your remember that one at Munich that time,"

"Oh yeah dad!" the woman agreed, "When you lost that bet with Gustavsen,"

"Yeah, bitch," he agreed, "And when she won he had her bit out and she bloody kissed him, my lot I'd have been lucky not to get spat at!" he mused ruefully.

Annie filled me up and pulled the pipe out again, "that will do!" Henry said, "Hitch up the single shaft cart, I'll take her for a trot."
I could barely walk, my insides had been scoured and felt raw, and someone just moved me a small distance to what must have been a barn, "This is a double vee single shaft harness, it swings up if you start or stop too quickly, so don't start or stop too quickly," she said as she bustled about, and then I felt the weight of the cart pulling down on my belt.

"She's ready Dad!" Annie shouted.

"Coming!" he agreed, and I felt him climb nimbly aboard the cart and take up the reins, he slapped my backside, pulled the left rein and I walked slowly forward squelching through the mud, "Gid up there," he ordered and slashed at my buttocks, the single shaft chafed between my legs and occasionally banged up against me, I was worried I might trip.

"Your all right," he said, "get a move on its turf," he said, "You'll be all right, it won't matter if you fall," he said "See!", he tripped me with the long whip, lassooed my foot with it so I cannoned helplessly into the ground face first, sliding along wet grass on my poor sore breasts and my face, "See," he said as he dragged me up by my hair.

"Understand?" he asked. I nodded, so I went a bit faster, he did it again, lasooed my foot, I did three hops and then crashed to the floor, faster this time, but at least i was expecting it and I arched my back and landed on my tummy, "Atta girl, now you run and I'll let thee feet alone." deal?" I nodded.

I clambered up myself without assistance, and started to run, "Hey!" he wailed, but the straps pulled back against my freshly ringed clit and fireworks exploded in my brain with pretty green roses and space rockets and little furry kittens, the barbells through my nipples throbbed, and then it stopped, I felt horribly empty.

"Pull you daft bitch," he shouted, I tried again this time it just rubbed gently, I seemed to be flying as that lovely warm feeling spread though me as I sped across the ground and I was unprepared for him to apply the brakes and shout "Whoah."

I stopped, "Well Eli," Henry said, "What do you think?"

I heard an elderly man's voice,"Ee, not bad lad, not bad?" he agreed, "Where's her from?"

"Down south, Ee you listen," he fiddled with my bit, and pulled it free,"

"Let me go you beast!" I exclaimed, "Or I'll" which was as far as I got before he re-fastened the bit.

"Posh see!" Henry boasted.

"Ah so she be," he said, "What she fuck like?"

"Too tight for us Eli," he said, "Ass that is."

"You want I to have a go?" Eli asked.

"If you 'ent got nothing else on," Henry suggested.

"Half a mo I'll get me pills." Eli suggested.
"Poor old sod's past it really." Henry said as he unhitched me from the cart, "But he's got a wiry little cock, ideal for loosening up you tight arsed bitches, and he led me around, "Just bend over the back of the cart."

Well to be honest it was the last thing I wanted to do, bend over so some old codger I had never even seen could sodomise me, but there was nothing I could do, because when I pulled away he just let the reins go and I had no idea where I was or where to run to.

"Now don't be awkward," he said as he seized my reins again, "bend!"

I bent over the back of the cart, I had no choice, and then I felt Eli, hard and warm against my backside, "Hold her still Mr Bryant her's all clammed up."

I tried a kick and got a painful slap across my breasts and as I jerked up so Eli slid his wizened old pen-like penis up inside my backside. It forced painfully up inside my rectum inch by agonising inch, It felt like I was on fire, it was horrible, and then long before it felt it was all the way in me it was squirting stuff inside me he never used a condom.

"Oh very nice Mr Bryant." Eli said happily, lovely and tight, first time?" he asked.

"Must be," Henry agreed, "Stand back let a man in." he said, "Hold her head!" he added and I felt his strong hands grip my hips.

"Nnnnnggghhh!" I squealed, as I felt Henry's softer but much larger penis against me, "NNnggg!""No!" I squealed again but Eli's cum was running out of me lubricating Henry's entry and he humped and squirmed and just as I was sure my anal ring would split, he slid in me, all the way, I felt his balls slap against me, and he did a strange thing, he unstrapped my blindfold.

I blinked, Eli stood there, looking like a Victorian Grandfather, bent over stooping with a full beard, old dark raincoat and his trousers around his ankles and beyond, beyond was this vista, the view was unbelievable, I gasped, we could see for miles in the crystal clear moor land air right across the moors to the purple haze of the cities with their industry and smog, and inn front of us the track led away straight as a die beside miles of drystone walls to disappear over a distant crest.

"Champion ent it lass," Henry asked as he cupped my breasts and used them to drag himself even further into me.

I nodded. "See it ent all bad up here." he explained, as he humped away "Do summat then," he said as if I should be enjoying it, but then he started groaning and his disgusting warm goo was flooding me. "Oh yes that oh that's it oh bloody hell." Henry groaned, "You'll give me a bloody heart attack."

He dragged himself out of me and staggered slightly as he connected the straps to attach me to the cart once again. "See, it's a straight clear run, now you run do you hear?" he ordered, and I nodded.

He pulled the blinder across returning me to the nightmare world of darkness, yet it was a safe world of privacy where I could believe that I was being abused in the darkness and privacy of my stable or room not outdoors in sight of anyone who might pass by.

I ran on carefully and although he whipped me I was too frightened to go any faster, and after a few hundred yards or so he stopped me once again, he just tugged the reins and I stopped, he spoke to someone, I felt unseen but coarse and dirty hands exploring my breasts and sneaking down, "Eh less of that Larry, tradesmans all right?"

"Spoilsport!" "Larry" exclaimed, "What's her fuck like?" he asked.

"Bloody tight for me lad, you want a go?" Henry asked, "Only I needs her loosened up really."

"No, you're all right Henry," he said, he turned me down, he turned down the chance to hump me when there was nothing I could do to stop him, except kicking maybe, but even so it was so humiliating, "Mebbe down Masons later,"

"Ha, you'll have to pay like the rest!" he said and he slashed the whip across my shoulders and shook the reins. My feet scrabbled for grip on the damp grass, my poor toes, I had a pedicure and everything at Mummy's and now my feet must be blistered and I doubted I had any toenails left!

I ran for ages and then we stopped, Henry climbed down and I heard him doing something and then a door creaked open.

He threw something over me, a sheet or Tarpaulin and then he unhitched the Cart.

"We're near road," he explained, "Best wear the bag for next bit," he advised, "I'll let reins droop, you walk I'll guide thee." he said almost kindly, but the path became stony and he picked me up and carried me a short way.

I heard voices, faintly, music perhaps, he set me down and opened a door, and the hubbub of voices became clearer, it was a meeting of some sort, then I heard the clink of glasses and the smell of Cigarette smoke, stale sweat and beer it was a bar or more likely the Local Public House "Is there any strangers in? he asked loudly.

There was a pause, "No you're all right!" someone said , "Is that the new un."

"Yeah this is it, Clive, if you want to lock up I'll get it out." Henry offered.

There was some laughing and clacking of door locks,

"Da Daaaah!" Henry laughed and he dragged the bag off me to his imitation of a fanfare.

"Hey," "Wow," "Bit skinny!" were some of the more sensible comments, "When can we have a go Henry!"

"I need to have her seen to first," Henry commented, "I don't suppose Dr Sugden has been in?"

Seen to? Dr Sugden? My mind raced I'd already been raped anally and pierced and humiliated what on earth else did they have planned for me.

"No but Harry Balls is in snug, thee want's vet not Doctor!" someone said.

"Well let the Dog see the Rabbit." Henry suggested, and he tugged me forward, hands grabbed at me as he led me forward.

"Harry!" Henry said.

"Mr Bryant!" Harry replied, "And what can I do for you?"

"Stop this un getting up the duff." Henry said.

"Hundred quid?" Harry offered.

"Fifty," Henry countered.

"All right, up on the table with it," Harry suggested, "And mine's a pint of Newky Brown."

"You heard!" Henry said as he fairly gently picked me up and laid me on the table.

"Looks healthy enough," Harry commented as willing hands parted my legs and then some one Harry perhaps?, parted my sex and peered inside, it was all horribly exciting, and I was getting damp at the thought.

"Anaesthetic," Harry called, and someone loosened my bit just long enough to tip my head back and force a slug of whiskey, Jack Daniels I thought, down my throat and then suddenly the bit was back in and there was this horrible horrible pain from my sex.

I couldn't scream, I tried to kick, it was hopeless, they were putting rings through my Sex lips Labia or whatever it's called in Latin, but they weren't, there was another pain and another and another, "Got a bootlace anyone!" Henry laughed.

"I got some lovely red silk upstairs!" a woman's voice trilled, "Half a mo," I heard her feet clattering up the stairs, the hubbub of conversation increased, I couldn't make out much, something about Harrogate.

"One of his Lordship's rejects!" Henry was saying, "Soft bastard hadn't even branded her, and her ass wasn't even broke but bloody hell is she quick over hundred yards."

"I got it!" The woman trilled, "Let me it needs a woman's touch!"

"No, you're all right, I used to sew the Pakistani girls back up at end of term at Uni." Harry said.

"Twenty years ago!" Henry said, "Let Maggie do it." and I cried with pain s they sewed my sex together, the lips sewn shut. I almost passed out.

Finally they were finished, "Right lads form a queue, twenty quid a time." Henry laughed, "Got the Box Clive?" he asked.


Training Rose Part Two

The Box, it was a cardboard box. They bent me over the back of something solid like a table, and I think they snipped away so the box went over my back and hid my head completely because the sounds were even more muffled and then they started, they jabbed something up my backside something slippery, and when they pulled it out again I felt the first warm slightly soft penis nudge my poor bruised backside as its owner tried to worm it inside me.

I tried to kick but someone grabbed my feet and tied them to something, table legs probably, and then he was in side me and it hurt.

"Ee, Henry, it ent the same we gag in." someone said. so he removed my bit, he must have lifted the box and there were tearing noises and I could hear better, "Aaaaggghhhh!" I screamed.

"Go on Eric, she loves it!" some one laughed.

"Want a pie Henry?" a woman asked.

"No, oh this un ent had her snap yet." he said.

"Noooooo" I wailed, "Please no!"

"It's only a meat pie!" Henry said and as I took a breath he shoved a wad of steak and kidney in my mouth, I choked which made me convulse.

"Her's cumming, Eric!" someone said and as I choked I felt his disgusting slime gushing into me.

"Good lass, Have a drink," Henry said.

"Henry," I started to say before he shoved another spoonful of pie in my mouth.

"Her wants a Henry!" some wag suggested, which wasn't bad because an Orange and fizzy Lemonade was just what I wanted.

Henry or someone held the glass to my lips and I drank as someone else unceremoniously shoved his meat up my backside, it wasn't as bad as the first, and the drink was very welcome, "Want some more?" he asked.

I nodded, it was surreal, but the pie was nice and warm and I was starving and I didn't really have much choice, "Another pie Maggie she's insatiable, and a Henry." Henry chuckled.

"My bum hurts," I said, as I waited, "Why must you be so horrible."

"This is horrible?" someone queried, "Yer all soft down south!"

"Hey hold up Seth!" Henry advised, but Seth was not to be denied and I smelled the aroma of stale piss and realised he was waving his penis in front of my face.

"Sod off Seth!" Harry said, "I'm not sewing it back on if she takes a bite out of it."

"It's only pie!" Henry suggested, "Eat up!" as he fed me some more steak and kidney, "Meat in one end and steak pie in the other!" he chuckled, what a greedy Pony," he said, "And you Charlie Hebble, that's twenty quid if you want's a poke."

I heard a rustle of notes and I can only only guess it was Charlie Hebble that forced himself on me next, "I usually brings one of the Lasses over of a Saturday night," Henry admitted, "But you'll need taming before then," he said, "Both ends!" he said, "You like sucking cock do you?"

"No!" I said quietly.

"Lesbo see," Henry said, "His bloody Lordship's daughter's plaything as far as I can make out," he said, "I shouldn't mine poking her, what's she like eh?" he asked.

"She smells better than you!" I said.

"Ent got a cock though has she?" he laughed.

"Henry, it's time us closed!" Clive mentioned quietly and as soon as the last man pulled out of me Henry threw the "Bag" back over me.

"Bloody good idea that Burka," someone muttered, suddenly it made sense, it was one of those head to toe Muslim cloaks, Henry hadn't refitted my bit so I kept quiet, till we got outside.

"Why the blinders, Mr Bryant, "His Lordship doesn't use blinders," I asked.

"Because it works, look how calm you are now, I bet you don't know how many blokes fucked you do you?"

"Ten?" I asked.

"I cleared two hundred and seventy quid after paying old Harry." he said, "Sixteen, I guess that makes sixteen are you sore?"

"Bruised and torn in half more that sore," I muttered, "What can I do to make you let me go?"

"Win at Harrogate and see if thee gets any offers!" he suggested, "But I likes you," he said which worried the hell out of me.

He pulled the bag off me but it was raining and the cold rain chilled me and when he hitched up the cart I could barely stagger along. Henry must have seen I was in a bad way because he didn't attempt to attach the bit but walked with me to the top of the hill, "See," he said, "I'm not a monster, will you suck me off now?"

"No!" I said.

"That's disappointing," he said, "Tomorrow perhaps," and he led me down the hill to the farm.

He left Martha to unhitch the Cart and she fed me some soup or something and some juice and led me to my stall for a rest.

I must have slept for twelve hours or more because next thing I knew Martha had woken me with a kick in my backside, and despite my protestations she dragged me outside for the hosepipe routine, "Nooo!" I wailed.

Henry came over to us, "Now Rosie, do you like shouting?" he asked, "You want a bit or not?"

"Not, definately not," I said.

"Use a ring bit Martha." he said and walked off.

"Ring Bit?" I asked.

"You'll love it, helps you breathe," she said, it did that, it took three of them to hold me down and wrench my jaw open wide enough to get the ring bit in, I don't know if you've seen a ring bit but it's like a ring gag except in metal with "Ears" for the reins.

"Hiss sorrible!" I managed to say as Martha almost brutally stretched my jaw open, and forced the ring into my mouth "Eeeeek!"

"You want first poke Albert," Henry asked.

"Thanks Dad" Albert replied, "I'll stand on tump." he said, and Martha and Henry dragged me across so their son could do what he wanted and I just knew he was going to stick his cock in my mouth, but even so when it actually happened it was still a shock.

I tried to stop him with my tongue but all I did was nearly choke myself , "It was your idea not to have a bit!" Henry laughed. "Hitch her up!"

They brought the cart along, hitched it up, and with the usual flurry of whipping they made me head out across the mud and slime of the farmyard and away up the slope to the moors, it was raining, again. "Bloody run you daft cow," Henry squealed, but I was too scared of falling over to really try to run, so he made me turn around and we went back to the farm.

Martha watched curiously as we approached, "Got a clip Martha?" Henry asked.

"Oh, all right, are you sure?" Martha replied uncertainly, "She's a southerner remember."

"Yeah and some weights!" Henry ordered, "This will teach the bitch to drag her heels."

I just stood there, "Open," he said pointlessly because my mouth was wide open anyway and do you know he pinched my tongue and dragged it out of my mouth and then clipped something to it, it hurt like hell.

"EEEaggghhh!" I wailed and then he put a weight on it, and before I could react he had hung something on my clit ring and things over my barbels on my nipples as well.

"Gwan" or was it "Go on!" he shouted as he roughly dragged the reins round and whipped me until I started off paddling through the mud and slime again.

The weights were torture but I struggled on, the tongue weight hung between my breasts and the breast weights inflamed my nipples and the clit weight, well you get the idea, it just drove me mad, I certainly wasn't cold anymore, and when he started flailing my buttocks with that whip I was so excited I could barely walk let alone run.

Finally I slipped and fell, I landed against the shaft of the cart, Henry thought I was struggling to get up, what an idiot, no I finally had something to grind my clit against and all the frustrations of the last two days just ebbed away,

"Hey, you all right!" Henry asked, suddenly my release came flashing stars, fireworks, exploding green elephants, psychedelic pussy cats, the works wow. One of the best. Ever.

He helped me to my feet and he removed the tongue clip and all the weights, "I'm pushing you too hard," he said, "We'll take short cut." He helped me to my feet, I felt so much better, but he was too stupid to realise it.

He led me some way along a track and then unclipped the blinder, "It's rough up here," he said, "Watch your feet I'll guide cart."

As my eyes became accustomed to the bright light of the day I saw the farm away behind us, the track ahead was narrow and rock strewn and climbed steeply and I struggled to find anywhere to put my bare feet, but slowly I picked my way around the stones and Henry pushed and we gradually climbed the steep slope to the moor, and finally we got to the crest, Henry quickly refitted the blinder, before I could get my bearings, and then I trotted quite briskly where Henry guided me.

We must have stopped at the same place as the previous day, because after a brief halt Henry detached the cart, and dropped the "Bag" or Burkah over my head and led me back to the pub.

Again he went in asked about strangers and everything and they took me in the back before Henry pulled the Bag off me.

There was no point protesting, all the kicking and struggling did me no good before so I let them bend me over the Table but then something was placed over my back, "Clive made a blank for you," Henry said, "Stops the!"

"Nuff said!" Clive cautioned, and he said, "Tom's been waiting since half ten I promised him first poke."

"Fair enough!" said Henry, "Who wants first poke in her gob."

"I meant Gob," Tom said.

"Well Fred were next," Clive muttered, "mebbe he could have first poke up its ass?"

"I don't care," Henry said, "Twenty in back twenty five front," he affirmed, "Cash up front."

It smelled of soap, this bulbous soft knob end, it barely touched the ring part as it slid inside me, I didn't panic or try to stop it, I knew better, but then someone said "Well suck it then,"

"She can't suck you daft beggar there a bloody great ring in her gob, he'll have to fuck her face proper like."

So he did but not before Fred had thrust himself up my poor abused anus which at least gave him something to thrust against.

There was no question of spit or swallow, it was swallow or choke, as his slime flowed down my throat even as Fred humped away energetically at my anus.

"Phew Magic!" Tom agreed, "It fucks like an Angel."

"Tell you what!" Henry said, "Get her a big pastie and some of that fizzy orange she likes and stick her in the upstairs bog till tonight, that way I can get some work done with Astral sky."

"Lock-in Lads?" Clive asked, and when the cheer went up they let me up.

Henry released the ring and he fed me, I think he liked feeding me, and he let me drink but when I asked a question he clipped the tongue clamp on again. "Sssshh."he said quietly.

I had a job climbing the stairs, and then they took me across a room and made me bend, it smelled like a lavatory, I can't describe it because I never saw it, but there was a tummy support which they bent me over, and I'm sure they pulled down a partition over me because my bum was colder than my top, anyway something pinned me down so I rested on my tummy and breasts but I wasn't bent level like over the table, no I was at an angle, perhaps forty degrees.

I must have been head first through a hole in a wall, and the floor one side was obviously higher than the other because for the next few hours a steady stream of punters used me, my mouth and my backside, like piece of meat and the worst thing was no one fucked me, or even played with my breasts or clit, I needed something, just something to rub against but there was nothing, absolutely nothing, and while seemingly every man in the pub used me it did absolutely nothing for me.

I even tried to sleep, I actually woke with some man's meat in my backside, whether I fell asleep in mid performance or if he took me in my sleep I neither knew nor cared, the abuse was continual but the strangeness and tightness had gone, it all seemed so pointless, and what the hell it had to do with winning Ponygirl events I couldn't begin to imagine.

He came for me eventually, it seemed like around midnight, he took me downstairs, flung the bag like Burkah over me, pulled rubber wellington boots on my feet and led me to his Land Rover.

"Got held up," he explained, "I chucked cart in back, hold up I'll put seat belt around you!" and we drove for ages all round the edge of the moor to cover a distance of less than three miles or so in a straight line.

He muttered about his other Ponygirls and the incessant rain lashed the windshield and rattle the doors, at least I suppose it was the door. and when we got back he just stuck me in my stall and left me, at least the Burkah was warm and in a surprisingly short time I was asleep.

They woke me next morning, the al fresco enema was simply a fact of life now, and the pipe slid easily in my bruised and battered backside, Henry took me out again, he changed the ring bit for a ordinary bit and he just took me out in the Cart, he tried for more speed by swearing at me and whipping me but I didn't want to risk another fall so I kept to an easy jog, I was beginning to learn the route by feel and eventually we stopped where Eli lived, we paused briefly.

"Look I want speed, speed, speed," Henry said, "You should be well under seventeen seconds for the hundred with the cart!" he insisted, "So on my mark, Go!"

I sprinted but then the fear closed in and my speed fell away,and in exasperation he stopped me with a harsh pull on the reins.

"What's up with her Dad," I heard a voice, it had to be Albert.

"Sluggish as hell son." Henry said.

"You fucked her yet?"

"She's sewn you dopey idiot!" Henry exclaimed.

"Got an ass ain't she?" Albert replied.

"You think she needs fucking you bloody do it." Henry said.

I heard the rustle of trousers and Albert said, "Bend then,"

So I bent, like good obedient little Pony, there really was no other option.

At least he wasn't particularly big or long or energetic, but as a downside he gushed what felt like gallons of slime into me, and if in Bryant reasoning a backside full of slime was going to speed me up, well it just didn't do it for me!

Albert slid out of me and to my surprise Henry straightened me up, "Fat lot of good that did she barely even noticed," he said but he patted my head, "I just had an idea!"

He reached up and unclipped the blinder from the right side. I blinked furiously, but as I looked there was Albert, with a pair of Ponygirls in a tandem rig and four wheel cart which I had never seen before, and there in front of me was a wide swathe of soft short grass leading away for hundreds of yards ahead.

I cursed the stupid man for using the blinder, it would be sure joy to run on such a surface except for the horrible feel of Albert's slime in me.

"See, it's a straight clear run, now you run do you hear?" Henry ordered, and I nodded.
He left the blinder hanging and as soon as he climbed aboard the cart he slapped me and I set off running strongly but I was finding feel of my stretched anus was uncomfortable and as I tried to clench my buttocks, the shaft between my legs seemed awkward, it banged painfully against my legs because my running action was all over the place, but despite everything I was covering the ground quickly.

I was going well, I hardly felt the lightweight cart until somehow I got my left foot the wrong side of that single low shaft and down I went, it was completely unexpected and Henry wasn't expecting it either as I saw him fly over my head as the shaft dug in and the whole cart swung around violently throwing Henry to the ground.

I sprawled awkwardly, I wanted to shout but I couldn't, he wasn't moving, Henry wasn't moving at all.

I felt helpless, but try as I might I couldn't shift the straps to release my arms, at least my blinder was off but Henry's leg looked very awkward. I looked around but Albert and the four wheel cart was nowhere to be seen.

I nudged Henry with my head but he was out cold, breathing but unconscious, I realised the cart was badly damaged but I managed to pull it clear of Henry and dragged it with me as I ran for help, the cart tracked way to the right as the frame was bent and the left wheel leaned drunkenly and the rim wobbled, but I ran flat out uphill to where I hoped to find Eli and when he was nowhere to be seen I ran again rushing downhill towards the farm house.

The track seemed different to how I imagined, rougher somehow, and the farm somehow looked different from up on the hillside, the gates were open and I rushed into the farmyard.

"What the fucking hell are you doing!" a total stranger asked. I suddenly realised why it looked different, It was the wrong farm!

The stranger was about twenty five, muscular, ginger haired, badly in need of a shave and probably a wash, not too tall and certainly not too bright, "You want to play kinky games?" he asked I shook my head violently and turned around to lead him to Henry but he advanced menacingly towards me, "You want a fuck is that it?" he tried again so I just wheeled around and ran, ran as fast as I could back up the track.

I ran dragging the useless cart and that ginger haired idiot chased me, I managed maybe two hundred yards before he caught hold of the cart and slowed me down, and as I slowed he grabbed the reins and stopped me, I shook my head violently but he came closer, grabbing my poor sore nipples with his rough hands before exploring my clit ring and running a finger along my poor stitched and neglected pussy.

"Has thee got any rubbers?" he asked, I shook my head.

"Best fuck thee ass then," he said and he made me bend over I felt his fingers on my buttocks spreading my loose anus and he suddenly exclaimed.

"You filthy bitch," he said, "Yer ass is dripping with spunk," I felt dirty and rejected, like a whore where the punter won't pay the price and yet this was free, the humiliation hurt me and finally anger boiled inside me, I had to run away, I had to.

He was straddling the shaft, the Cart's left wheel was at a drunken angle but the seat and everything was still there so as I lunged forward, the seat caught him behind the knees and he fell back throwing his weight back behind the wheels and axle which over-balanced the Cart and brought the shaft up in to excruciatingly violently contact with my crotch, while he in his turn fell backwards into the seat, I staggered with the shock of the blow to my most tender parts but despite the pain and his considerable weight I just bolted for the moor and ran and ran and ran.

"Yee Ha" he shouted as he sprawled back in the seat, "You sure are one mad bitch," but I wasn't interested, I ran past Eli's house and there ahead was Henry, I tried to stop by him but the momentum carried me past, slipping and slithering on the wet grass.

"Bloody hell it's Henry Bryant!" he said, "Why didn't you say!"

"Nnngghht" I snorted.

"Oh right your sex game went off half cock did it," he said.

"Ngghrrrfft" I tried

"What the hell is it," he asked and finally he realised and undid my bit and at last I could try to communicate, but first I gasped wordlessly for breath before I was able to say,

"We, ah, crashed, uh, do you, uh, know, whee, ah, first aid?" I asked as soon as I could.

"No," he said.

"Do you have a, uh, phone." I asked.

"Yes," he said, "At the farm!"

"Then for gods sake, ah, let me out of these, uh, straps!" I demanded, "I did first aid at school!"

He released my arms but the pain was indescribable, "Ahhhhhggghhh," I wailed as I tried to move, but eventually I managed to make my hands work, "His leg's broke." I announced as I ran my agonised fingers over Henry's awkwardly angled right leg.

"Right," he said.

"He needs an ambulance!" I said.

"Not up here, there's just thin crust over bog, won't take weight." he said.

"So where's Bryant's farm?" I asked and he pointed, it was away to the right in the distance I had obviously but unknowingly turned sharp right at Eli's on previous runs.

"You wait here I'll get help." I ordered, and I stood up to run.

"Fetch some rubbers if thee wants fucking." he said and I gave him my best pitying withering look.

My legs were like lead up the hill to ELi's and then on the downhill leg of the track to Bryants the jarring was agonising, there was no one around, I checked the stables, there were seven more Ponygirls tethered and blindered in the stalls but otherwise there was nobody about.

"Oi!" someone shouted, it was Martha, "How'd you get loose,"

"Henry, Leg broke, Moor by Eli's" I gasped.

"Likely story, where thee cart." she said.

"Battered and bent I crashed look!" I explained.

"You are in a mess," she said, "Hold up." and before I could react she blasted me with the hose pipe.

I shivered in shock at the deluge and then as the crushing debilitating horror of the freezing torrent stopped as quickly as it started I staggered towards my stall.

"Right," she said, "get some kit on and give us a hand, Henry had you sussed madam, don't thee fret, his bloody Lordships spy, you 'ent even branded, I expect you nobbled him you lying cheating conniving bitch."

"No!" I protested feebly.

"Dry thee sen, there's thee kit in stall, get it on then give us hand to get Tiger Lilly and Tamoshanter hitched up to the fourwheel, while I phone ambulance.

"No, we have to bring him in first!" I cautioned.

"Oh, of course we do!" Martha exclaimed, I'll get them lazy girls."

I quickly slipped off the waist belts and slipped my panties and bra on and grabbed my trainers socks tracksuit bottom and tee shirt, and rushed to help Martha

They were in their named stalls, she had them tacked up, blindered strapped ready to go but I, removed their blinders and said "We have to rescue Mr Bryant,"

They weren't enthusiastic, and the shafts were in line tandem where usually it was side by side, so all in all it was a hassle getting them fixed and then when we did go they were so slow, I watched them stroll lazily towards the moor, as I dressed but they were so slow that I just saw red and raced after them and when I caught up I grabbed Martha's whip and laid into them.

"No!" she wailed and their knees buckled and they stopped. "You daft bitch you've made them cum!"

"What?" I asked.

"Bleeding Masochists of course, like you," she said.

"Look don't just sit there give us a hand," I ordered Martha and before we knew the Ponies were lying on the cart and Martha and I were pulling the cart which wasn't very bright so we hitched the Ponygirls to a tree and carried on without them.

Martha just about collapsed with exhaustion before Eli's place so I ended up pulling the four wheel cart on my own, without a proper harness it near wrenched my hands out of their sockets.

The ginger haired half-wit from the wrong farm was waiting for us, bending uselessly over Henry who was still unconscious even as we hauled him aboard the Cart, and as soon as he was safely aboard so I set off but not towards the farm but towards the Pub, I took the Pony helmet off, it was a nightmare to remove, and then I removed the neck straps which just left the barbels and clit ring to remind me.

I knocked on the Pub door,

"Bugger off we're shut!" someone said.

"Henry Bryant's busted his leg!" I said, "fetch the Vet!"

"Haha!" Clive said as he opened the door "hey you certainly wash up nice," he said, "I wish I had," and that's as far as he got before I slapped his face. "Want a Pastie and some fizzy orange? " he asked, "On the house."

"Yes thanks," I said, "And a bath would be nice!" I suggested "But lets get Ambulance first!"

"Oh, nearly forgot!" he said and he went in to dial 999.

I stayed with Henry, and when he woke I said, "We crashed!"

"Yes!" he said, "Fucking Dressage for you!" and he twisted round screamed with the pain and passed out.

"You couldn't lend me fifty quid could you?" I asked Clive.

"You could earn it," he leered,

"Yes love tenner an hour live in barmaid," Maggie suggested.

"I suppose!" I said, "But the guys that?"

"They weren't looking at your face were they?" she advised, "You can pull pints and heat up pies can't you?" she asked and when I agreed she said, "Right Clive, I can get away to see my mother in Cleethorpes this afternoon after all!" and she just stormed out.

Clive rang the Bryants farm and said I was all right, and I told them I was staying at the Pub for a few days and then I would be back for Dressage, and solo events only. Martha didn't like it much but I just thought sod what she wants.

Clive was all right really, he told me all about Henry, how Henry was more interested in screwing his girls than grooming them and how Henry dreamed of training a winner for Harrogate.

I stayed a week, Clive let me use his computer, and I ordered a lot of tack on line, top quality stuff, and then I entered myself as Rose for Harrogate, in the Dressage and the Jumping and Cross Country, the same classes as a Thee Day Horse Trial, except girls, and every day I ran and did my exercises, just the way Daddy trained his girls.

There was consternation at Bryants when I turned up on the Friday before Harrogate, Henry was still in hospital, Albert was in a foul mood, Martha was screaming at Tamoshanter and Annie was screaming at Martha.

"All set for Harrogate then," I asked, "Who's going to lead me in?"

"Don't be daft you ain't trained," Albert said.

"Annie, you want to lead me in," I asked, "You could wear something too tight and get the judges struggling with a hard on," I said massaging her ego.

"Suppose!" she said, "But I haven't trained you!"

"Oh just wave the whip and don't hit me with it," I suggested, "Shall we give it a try."

"Ok," she said.

"And I live at the Pub, not here!" I said.

"Yes what ever," she said as if she didn't care either way, so I unloaded my boxes of tack and new clothes and sent the taxi away.

I changed in the kitchen, my tack was new southern tack, with thigh boots with hooves, hoof gloves a crotch belt and a big corset, all in black leather and I had two silver bells to fit the barbels,and an abbreviated headset and a slimline rubber bit, oh and several sets of red and white plumes.

Poor Annie nearly wet herself when she saw me, "You're beautiful!" she said.

"I know!" I agreed.

The practice ring was outside and a few jumps were down but when Annie put them up I cleared everything easily, and the dressage mirrors showed my high stepping and posture was almost spot on thighs horizontal and everything, and I just relished a cross country. I was brimming with confidence.

I think everyone knows what happened at Harrogate, well on the moors near Skipdale actually where the Harrogate club had their Arena and cross country course and I won the jumping, third (dammit) in the dressage and a massive win in the cross country, to win the overall title.

And that was my way out, I put in an online bid for myself, I know that sounds bizarre but there is an offer system where bid for the first three can be made, and Henry agreed I could be sold to the highest bidder, and I was out bid.

Henry watched and came up on his crutches to collect the winning trainers cup and then he said to me as I walked carefully behind him.

"Oh Rose, " He said "Major General Mc Naughton was high bidder, I'll have your stuff sent on, he'll pick you up in a moment."

I had my bit fastened too tight, and so with the full head dress on, I couldn't say no, and before I could do anything about it Annie pushed me into the holding pen I was allocated.

"Ah Rose!" a familliar sounding figure approached me, "Mr Bryant say's you are a total nightmare to train, shall we see, bend."

I bent, I couldn't very well not bend, there was quite an audience, I just thanked my stars I'd continued with Bryant's al fresco enemas.

My heart pounded, Major Mc Naughton undid my crotch belt checked the stitching and then said "Brace,"

"Do the Honours, Dighby, he said and with a popping of fly buttons I sensed rather than saw his huge appendage advancing stiffly and then it was filling me and the world seemed so right, so perfectly and gently did it slide in.

"You smell like your mother!" Mc Naughton whispered.

"Daddy" I almost said, I knew it was him, he often used the Mc Naughton alias but he knew it was me.

His finger was on my clit I felt him take a weight from his pocket and hang it on the clit ring and then his humping grew stronger, "Cum for me Rose," he said, as Dighby started galloping, the clit weight was swaying and driving me crazy and then as Dighby humped me Mc Naughton took the whip, swatting it painfully against my breasts, shoulders, clit, legs, everywhere overloading my brain with sensations, making me feel so alive until I just exploded inside and as he continued ruthlessly swatting so my legs buckled and I crashed to the ground in helpless orgasm.

"You see My dear Bryant, these pedigrees take a beating as a reward for performing well not a punishment," Mc Naughton said as Dighby finally climbed off me.

I lay dazed for ages until Annie came for me and escorted me to Mr McNaughton's van where I was draped in a familiar Burkah and strapped into a sideways facing seat in the windowless rear of the vehicle.

Mc Naughton took me for miles in the van until I could change at a roadside cafe, where I emerged in my street clothes as myself and he as my Daddy.

After the stop Daddy made me drive the van, while he lazed in the swivelling front passenger's seat,

"Daddy," I protested,"I haven't driven at all for weeks, now you want me to drive this tank donn the motorway!".

"Call me Mr McNaughton, please Rose," he requested.

"Yes Major General" I giggled.

"Now tell me all about Mr Bryants methods." he requested, I told him all about the farm as we drove south, Daddy began to speak with his McNaughton voice and he wasn't Daddy so I was able to tell him everything, even about when I fell and had my orgasm as Henry whipped me, the accident where Henry was injured, the Ginger halfwit, just about everything except what happened in the pub.

He listened intently, "It's clear that you have some important decisions to make about your future young lady."

"I hadn't thought any further than Harrogate," I admitted.

"You just won one of the most prestigious events in England," he explained "Which means you're seeded into the top twenty for Cannes next month."

Cannes, I had no idea, all the glitz of the Riviera "Oh, maybe I can stop with mummy," I suggested.

"Well she'll be there, after all she did compete there several times." he told me.

"Really," I replied, "I never realised."

"Oh one of the finest," he said, "But what do you want?" he asked, "was that just a one off darling," he said, "or have you become a pain slut?" he asked.

"I don't know Daddy," I admitted.

"So after Cannes, will you compete, or train, or" he paused, "or will you breed." he suggested.

"Daddy" I squealed and nearly caused a major accident as I swerved the van across two motorway lanes, "I just don't know, I had the best orgasm I ever had when Henry whipped me on the Moor."

"But how about breeding, Sam Carter's wife won Silverdale three years running," he said.

"What, Sam Carter?" I asked incredulously.

"No Simon, very clever chap, prospective parliamentary candidate," he said, "You must remember him, we caught you playing doctors and nurses once."

"Oh Simon," I remembered, oh how I remembered, being found completely naked while Simon "examined" me.

"Just a thought," Daddy suggested "but lets work out the best training strategy first, "Pain as punishment or reward?"

"I don't really like pain at all," I lied.

"Of course you do," he retorted "and just to prove it I'll whip you to orgasm later." he promised

"No I'm not like that Daddy!" I insisted.

"It's a difficult thing to come to terms with, I admit," he said, "But you cannot deny what happened earlier can you?"

We arrived home and parked the "Van" in the garage and made our way indoors, it seemed strange sitting on chairs again, and odd that I had to get my own food, and Daddy's as well, just a light supper, and to my horror I found I had lost my taste for champagne.

Luckily we had fizzy Lemonade and Orange so I made do with a Henry, and as I poured it I thought of Henry and the Moor and his whip and.....

"I promised you an Orgasm." Daddy said rousing me from my daydream "would you like one now?" he asked, as he finished his supper and pushed his plate aside.

"Yes, Sir." I replied without thinking.

"Good put this on," he said as he took a neatly folded dirty old blanket from a canvas bag, "Just this nothing else,"

He made me undress completely then he covered me with the dirty old blanket before he took me outside into the cold damp night to the filthy old shed where we kept the lawn mower and there by the light of a flickering candle he made me put on a crude bridle and bit and a collar and leash and a waist belt with a crotch strap which he pulled much too tight, and finally he cut the silken cord and pulled the strap so tight that it painfully separated my poor abused pussy lips.

He roughly pushed me down onto the filthy floor and took up his whip.

I cowered in the corner protecting my face as best I could as his blows rained down, five, six, I counted, as they inflamed my tender bare buttocks, left, right, nine, ten, and then he changed to flicking up between my legs, one, two, three swats on my pussy lips cruelly held open by the over tight leather crotch strap of my harness until I gurgled in helpless orgasmic ecstasy.

"You're such an easy pony to please!" he said as he unfastened the "bit" from my bridle and fed me two sugar lumps and a slice of apple, and with a final slap across my rump he was gone.

I waited until I was sure he was gone before I lay down exhausted on my blanket and fell into a glorious exhausted satisfied sleep.

Training Rose Ch 3


I woke with the dawn, I ached all over, I realised I was completely naked except for a crude bridle and bit and a collar and leash and a waist belt with a crotch strap which was so tight that it painfully separated my poor abused pussy lips, then I saw the lawn mower and the dirty old blanket daddy had covered me with and I remembered, I was home!

I remembered Daddy's blows as he lovingly whipped my buttocks and then he changed to flicking up between my legs, until I gurgled in helpless orgasmic ecstasy. "You're such an easy Pony to please!" he said as with a final slap across my rump he was gone.

Oh my god, I thought, Now what?

I knew in my heart it was wrong, I couldn't be Daddy's Ponygirl, not Daddy's, and yet without a top class trainer like Daddy I could never hope to win at International level.

I agonised about it for a few minutes until Dot, Dorothy Channing, Daddy's head groom gently eased the shed door open. "Breakfast in the Breakfast room Miss Georgina," she said.

"I'm Rose, Rose Giles." I explained.

"Yes Georgina whatever you say," she said condescendingly, "but there's a dress for you on the hook and you're to be washed and dressed and fed by nine, that's what Mr Gerald says and that's what you'll do."

I felt really stupid walking across to the house in the cheap leather minidress father had sent over, and I was shocked at Mrs Giles reaction when I put my head around the kitchen door to ask when breakfast would be ready.

"Miss Georgina, what happened to you?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing, nothing," I told her and I sneaked up to my room.

The water took ages to run warm in my shower, and then it was too hot, but eventually it felt fantastic as I soaked my filthy hair and generally cleaned myself up.

"Georgina, that "Nine" was morning not evening," Daddy shouted just like I was Thirteen again, like Yorkshire had never happened, indeed just like last night had never happened.

"Georgina, did you hear me!" he shouted.

"Yes Daddy," I said.

I just grabbed some clothes and rushed downstairs, "Ah!" Daddy said as I came into the kitchen, "I see."

"What?" I asked.

"Pink skirt, white top," he said, "Where's your Tack?"

"Oh!" I replied as I suddenly realised I had completely forgotten about being a Ponygirl.

"I have an appointment for you to see Mr Harcourt," Daddy said.

"But he's a plastic surgeon?" I queried.

"Indeed," he said, "and you have two disgusting things through your nipples and that thing through your."

"Daddy!" I squealed, "Please!"

"Quite so!" he said, "So eat something and meet me outside in ten, no fifteen minutes."

"So you called yourself Rose Giles did you," Mrs Giles said sarcastically, as she handed me a slice of buttered toast.

"Sorry," I said.

"I should think so too, them things you got up to in Yorkshire," she said.

"Mrs Price!" I protested.

"Oh we heard, don't you worry," she said, "Least it keeps you regular, my husband Albert he'd,"

"Mr Price please!" I pleaded.

"Well at least you can't get pregnant, but fourteen straight off." she tutted.

"Sixteen," I said, "It was sixteen, not fourteen, up the bum, if you must know."

That shut her up.

"Georgina, Car Now!" Daddy shouted.

"All right!" I shouted, and I rushed out into the yard, Daddy stood by the Bentley.

"Daddy," I asked, "What happened to the Red one"?"

"Ah," he said, "Got a very very good offer, very rare you know," he grinned, "And I borrowed this one."

"Oh!" I said awkwardly.

"Kitten." he said "Shoes?"

I was so used to being barefoot I had simply forgotten.

"Something stylish please," he suggested.

I grabbed my red ones with three inch heels from the rack and put them on in the car as Daddy drove more recklessly than fast into town.

Mr Harcourt was a quiet serious man in his forties, we went straight in to his consulting rooms. Daddy explained that I had stupidly mutilated my breasts and suggested I showed Mr Harcourt.

It was ridiculously embarrassing to have to take my top and bra off in front of Mr Harcourt and when he said, "Bryants of Saddleworth?" I went as red as a beet-root, "Henry has the company Logo on them," he said, "That should heal up absolutely fine."

"Georgina, the other." Daddy said quietly, "I'll wait outside."

"Georgina," Mr Harcourt asked, "The other?"

I waited until Daddy was gone, "My Clit," I exclaimed.

"Well show me," he said so I slid my skirt and panties down.

"Oh!" he said, "I see, ah,"

"What's wrong?" I asked

"Does it do anything for you?" he said.

"Yes, of course," I agreed.

"Come here," he said, "Now I'd like to bring you off, is that ok."

"No." I said flatly.

"Ok, but I think it's only through the hood," he said, "Let me." he said, and then his fingers were inside me, "Yes look, oh you can't see," he said, "Look it's harmless enough, leave it, remove or have one right through the clit itself, it's your choice." he explained.

"I'm sorry?" I said.

"It depends on your plans, if you're going into celibate or anal training." he paused, I'm sure I blushed crimson, "Then have a proper clit ring, then you can bring yourself off any time anywhere, but if you're looking for a man, then please have the rings out."

"I think maybe I should have the ring out?" I suggested.

"Yes, I think that's wise, right, I'll get my tool kit." he said, and within ten minutes he had cut away the ring and unscrewed the end of the barbels and slipped them from my poor tortured nipples.

"That's Three hundred and seventy six pounds," he said, "Please."

"What!" I demanded.

"Including value added tax." he explained, "Unless."

"Oh no!" I said, "No way."

"Pity," he said.

I pulled up my panties rearranged my bra and made myself presentable, Mr Harcourt pushed a button and my father walked in, "Well?" he asked.

"I don't think so," Harcourt said sadly, "She's not interested."

"I rather hoped James would take a half share in you," Daddy said.

"You should have said!" I gushed, but it was too late, I didn't fancy him and I had hurt his feelings, "You should have said."

"Time and Tide," Harcourt said sadly, "We'll forget todays fee Gerald, but look out for something, well."

"Like me but better mannered?" I suggested, "Who likes a real man not some immature boy?"

"Exactly that!" Harcourt said, "You really must come to dinner Georgina, meet Francine and the children," he gushed.

Realisation hit me like a thunderclap, "real men" like Daddy and Henry Bryant were always in charge, I wanted a man, but one who was not fully set in his ways, malleable, mould-able.

"Gerogina!" Daddy said shaking me from me day dream, "Stop staring at James's bulge we have work to do."

"Sorry," I apologised, but a darker stain was already spreading over James's dark trousers.

"What on earth did you start playing with yourself for?" he asked as he hustled me from the room.

"Did I?" I asked.

"You're not tacked up so some decorum please!" Daddy suggested.

We parked at the Bentley dealership and walked across to McDonalds for a light Lunch before he whisked me away to the sports ground adjoining our local school, the seductively named Alderman Winterbothan High School. Daddy was sort of an honorary school governor and he organised, and provided a major prize for, their winter under 21 Ladies open Cross Country run, so he was invited along as a VIP.

I felt really uncomfortable, wearing my casual clothes when as I realised Daddy had one of his better suits on and being Daddy he drove straight onto the field parked the Bentley by the time-keeper's bus and paid a third former five pounds to keep an eye on it and to wipe the mud off the tyres, and then he strode across to the podium, shook the head - teachers hand and precisely as the school clock struck two he picked up the microphone and his voice boomed across the sports field and everyone stopped to listen to him, even I was impressed.

Daddy took a keen interest in Athletics, he even provided prizes for some of the upper sixth form girls events, and he said "It's extremely important that young people should continue their participation in Athletics right through their education, not abandon it as "Uncool" when other interests intrude," he paused for effect, "Particularly the girls, which is why I have sponsored this limited series of prizes for sixth form girls who will be eighteen by the end of the school year."

But Daddy hadn't come to see the girls, well he had, but he had an ulterior motive, or three. "As some of you know my daughter Georgina has herself been in training and Miss Graves has agreed that Georgina can participate in one or two of our events.

"Daddy!" I hissed, but he wasn't listening.

"So over to Miss Fart, I'm sorry that's Miss Farque," he said as a great roar of laughter went up, "Who will announce." he said as with tears streaming from her eyes in humiliation the young Iranian trainee teacher sprinted for the nearest portaloo.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Children!" Miss Graves said grabbing the Microphone. but I was watching Miss Farque, her long skirt did nothing to impede her swift progress through the mass of children, parents and discarded kit that was sports day, her headscarf hid her long dark hair but I just knew she had real potential.

I waited outside the portaloo for almost an hour, getting some very strange looks in the process before Daddy came for to look for me.

"Did you see her run?" I asked.

"Who Kitten there were so many?" he said in confusion.

"Miss Farque!" I explained,

"Oh, I rather, ha, bit of a faux pas," he said, "but Kitten come and see the boys."

"Boys?" I queried.

"Yes, under nineteen relay, there are some real class athletes," he said as the loudspeaker system suggested that the runners in the "Lord Melton under nineteen relay" should make their way to the signing in point.

I saw a couple of chaps stand up and walk across, beautiful men their ebony thigh muscles rippling like racehorses, and then a familiar face, Tom Warrender, he lived just a mile or so down the road and we used to play together, you could say he was my first boyfriend, certainly he had me naked a few times playing Doctors and nurses, except he had grown since then, about another five inches judging by his bulge, and so pale and pink he looked really out of place.

It was like a cattle market, Daddy leering at all these huge men, pointing them out to me, their ebony flanks all dotted with perspiration.

"Daddy why is Tom here?"

"Needs a good time to impress the Dons at Oxford, I'm afraid he's in the 100m scratch race I sort of suggested." Daddy said.

"Yes, invite him round to dinner!" I suggested, how was I to know Daddy had promised he could fuck me if he won?

The relay was a tumultuous kaleidoscope of colour and action as the six teams and twenty four runners rushed around the three hundred metre grass oval like small insignificant race-horses until finally team "Hornet" were judged to have won, four magnificent masterful creatures oozing testosterone, not literally, but well, uggh, not my scene I'm afraid.

There was the usual form filling and milling around for several minutes and then someone announced the under nineteen "Boys" scratch race.

I stood by the finishing line and watched them lining up, sweat from the earlier run still glistening on their bronzed ebony torsos, joking, jiving, doing little leaps in the air, there were far too many for an orderly start almost thirty runners for six lanes and I watched fascinated as they jostled for position arguing with Mrs Rathbone who had the starting pistol, until finally she lost patience. "Bang!"

I think it was arguably the slowest one hundred metres start in history, twenty six black and two white athletes fighting for space, it was more like a remake of Zulu than a race, but perhaps Daddy planned it like that, one Athlete even dodged the wrong side of the starter's chair and leaped over a group of spectators to avoid the Melee, pulling at least six strides clear in the process, it just had to be Tom.

I laughed, as Tom came loping awkwardly towards me, it was he who had cheated, although technically he had been "Impeded" by another Athlete, his running action was more suited to catching buses than the Athletics track, but he seemed to be putting in a terrific effort.

He was still leading as he approached the finishing line, I smiled at him, you know, he was funny, his white shorts came almost to his knees he hadn't any trace of suntan, it was like he had been time warped from the Victorian era, Doctor Livingstone pursued by savages, and he grimaced and put in a super human effort for the last few strides.

He came second, typical!

"Hi," gasp, "Georgie, long time," gasp, Tom managed to grunt as he sat on the grass gasping for breath..

"Yes, you'll have to come to dinner one evening," I suggested.

"Yes," he agreed, "Love to!" or was that a Freudian "Love Too?"

And then Daddy dropped me right in it, "Kitten, I said you would give the girls a challenge, will you do a hundred metres for me?"

"No!"

"Rose, you can either do it as Georgina or Tacked up as Rose, which might be embarrassing?" Daddy said.

"You wouldn't dare!" I spluttered, Naked except for a bridle and harness that even separated my lower lips, he had to be joking, and yet if I refused he could have my Ponyclub registration cancelled, "Ok," I agreed, "Hold my shoes." I always ran better barefoot, actually I always ran better naked, but compromise was needed, "When I've had a wee."

I undressed in the portaloo and left my shoes with Daddy, my bra stuffed in one and my panties in the other and ambled down to the start, it was the 100 metres girls B Semi final, the others were wearing spikes and crisp white shirts and shorts and they bent over the starting blocks like professionals in a way I dared not emulate, they showed their crisp white knickers while I would have shown far far more.

In the end Henry Bryant's training paid off, by half way I was looking back to see where they had all got to and even when I backed off I still led by a couple of strides at the finish.

It's a great way of spotting Lesbians, winning a race, they smile invitingly, straight girls smile with a frosty, "Keep you hands of my Boyfriend," smile, or just plain scowl at you.

And then there was the Final. I felt really rotten winning it, those poor girls who trained all term only to be thrashed by an interloper, but from Daddy's perspective I provided a baseline and from their perspective I wasn't eligible for prizes anyway so it was probably harmless.

Daddy had to present the prizes, "Lord Melton" they announced him as, he hated that, "Benjamin, Gerald, Arethusa, Carmichael, Fourth Baron Culcuith of Melton." was his proper title, he preferred Major General, not that he rose above Captain in the Guards but because he loved Gilbert and Sullivan's operas!

"I'll need your address to send the cheque to," he said to each girl as he made sure he was photographed with each winner, and then as with all schoolish things it was over and we simply went home.

"What do you think Kitten," he asked as we went to the Bentley.

"Invite Tom Warrender to dinner," I said quite firmly, "And Miss Farque."

"For gods sake she's pathetic!" he complained.

"No, this evening, I'll find her," I insisted.

She was sitting head in hands by the Lemonade tent, "Miss Farque, Daddy was mortified, quite mortified at his faux pas, will you please dine with us this evening so he can make amends?"

Miss Graves heard me, "Oh Sonia, you must go, Lord Melton's grounds are stunning and his wine list, oh, it's to die for!"

"Shall we say seven thirty for eight?" I queried, "We'll send a Taxi," and before she could refuse I was gone.

Tom could wait, except by the time I got back to the Bentley Tom was sitting in the back seat, "Invited Tom to Tea, Kitten,you don't mind do you?"

"No," I said really annoyed that Daddy had interfered again.

"Will you drive dear, my sciatica is playing up again," Daddy lied, he was worried about his license as he had been regularly sampling the school sherry, during proceedings.

I liked Bentleys, this one was a four door, still the W12 engine what ever that was, automatic gearbox, 180 mph top speed, some people said they did more but Daddy got really cross when he woke up to find I was doing 180mph along the A9 near Aberfeldy coming back from a shoot at Dunrobin in Scotland in his Two door, spoilsport.

So I drove very decorously and cruised home with hardly any wheel spin.

Tom looked quite ill when we got home, "What's wrong?" I asked.

"That hump back bridge, I left my stomach behind," he said.

"Sorry," I said, with no sincerity, I liked leaping hump back bridges, he could damned well get used to it.

"Entertain Tom a moment will you Kittten," Daddy said, "I'll see about something to eat."

I invited Tom into the Conservatory, I felt rather shy suddenly, I didn't know what to say.

"How are you?" I asked predictably.

"Knackered, and you? he replied.

"Fine," I agreed, "You're off to California I hear" I said.

"Ah no," he said, "Cash flow, trying to get into somewhere nearer home."

"Oxford?" I suggested.

"Maybe," he said, "You father suggested some sort of deal?"

"Ah!" I agreed, "That sounds familiar."

"I have to sign a confidentiality agreement before he even tells me what it is." he said awkwardly.

"Of course, where is it, do you have a pen." I asked, but he pulled out a nasty cheap bic biro and when I held the form for him he signed and I counter signed as witness.

"Right, I'll show you round," I suggested, "Daddy, I'll show Tom round," I shouted.

I knew Dessie and Sabrine were hauling firewood so I took Tom down by the lake with Dot Daddy's head groom, we sneaked through the hedge into the Melton Villa Grounds and I had Tom wait silently behind a bush as the cart approached, poor Tom he nearly came on the spot as they came round the corner.

I suppose it was a shock, obviously they were naked, their breasts thrust out by the tack which looped round them, their wrists were cuffed to the transverse pole of the cart as they pulled side by side, their heads held high by the weight of the harness plumes and their poor bare feet padding in the mud, both had their crotch belts led down through oversize clit rings before separating their Lower lips before fastening back to the waist belts,their faces partly hidden by the bridles, their mouths filled with the padded bits, as the padded past with a cart filled with yet more firewood. "Bloody Hell!" Tom whispered.

"Beautiful aren't they?" I said.

"Yes," he replied inadequately, and I saw his eyes fixed on the thin straps which separated the lips of their sex.

"Thats Southern Tack," I explained, "Daddy likes the lower lips parted, makes entering easier he says,"

"Does it?" he asked.

"How should I know," I exclaimed, "I'm a girl or hadn't you noticed."

He had the decency to blush, "Anyway, we train Pony Girls, train, show, breed, the whole Mc coy," I said, "From recruitment to, well," I paused, "I'm competing at Cannes next month," I said rather too quickly, he looked blank, "The annual International PonyGirl event, the Cannes Grand Prix?"

He looked blank.

"You do that?" he asked.

"Oh yes," I agreed, "It's how I keep fit."

"I wish I was fit," Tom said, "Oh god that run was torture, your father said there might be a job on it if I won."

"Assistant Trainer / Groom, under me." I said, "You see Daddy can't lead me out."

"Why?" he said.

"He's my Daddy, that's incest!" I insisted, "Look it gets very tense, Dressage Jumping Cross Country, when you are trained to a peak of perfection you need release when you finish, do you understand?"

He was remarkably dense. "I'm sorry," he said.

"You need seven inches of solid muscle," I explained reasonably, "and a good soothing jet of creamy,"

"Georgina!" he protested.

"Not up to it?" I asked, I tried a seductive smile, "I'll get tacked up and you can audition."

He looked so bewildered, confused, yes he would be perfect, I decided, just the physical and if he passed that, well.

I didn't get Tacked up, Daddy shouted that Tea was served so we sat on the terrace and spoke of what was in the newspapers.

Finally Daddy got around to business, "Tom, I gather Georgina has explained the nature of the business," he said and when Tom nodded he continued, "We could use you, Tom, There's a research bursary going."

"I was hoping to go to Oxford." he said

"Yes, it's the course you applied for, we can offer to you, personally that is:" he emphasised, "We can offer you research facilities unavailable to other students," Daddy said, "And Kitten will be studying there as well." I glared at him, "Although she doesn't know it yet."

"And the downside is?" he said.

"Regular sex with me?" I suggested.

"No seriously," Daddy said, "you will be expected to impregnate a number of retiring successful Pony Girl performers." he paused, "But that depends on the physical, and that's over to you Kitten."

"Shall we?" I asked and Tom nodded so I just took Tom's hand and we ran to the gap in the hedge and then up the bank to Melton Villa, he was panting and blowing as we got to the stables, I went straight to the training room, took my panties off and bent over the training bar.

He just stared, I suppose it looked odd, a metal bar six inches or so diameter between two concrete walls in the middle of a shed, normally the girl bend right over the bar and has her wrists cuffed to her ankles and is gagged and blinkered as well as generally being Tacked up but I didn't care.

"Come on!" I shouted, as I peeled my top and bra off, "Surely you're not gay?"

"It's not how I imagined," he said as I undid my skirt and wriggled it over my head.

"Well it's how it is," I told him, "So do it!" I said and I bent over the bar again and stared at him looking up between my own legs.

He paused, looked at me so sadly, and then started to undo his trouser belt, then he looked round for hook for his jacket and, "For Gods sake!" I shouted, but he pedantically folded his jacket placed it on the wall, placed his folded shirt and tie on his jacket, lowered his trousers, eased his shorts over his huge erection as just as I thought I was about to explode he began to ease it inside me.

It was so good, so warm and filling and, and then his hands were on my breasts and he pulled me more upright so he could kiss my neck.

"Can't you just fuck me," I asked, "Why all the touchy feely stuff?"

"It's called making love," he said.

"Well I want a fuck," I told him, "So get on with it." and he did oh how he did, and each thrust ground my clit into the bar and I screamed and at every withdrawal I gasped.

"You really should gag her Tom." Daddy said as he watched us, "she sounds like the Flying Scotsman,"

"Yes sir," Tom replied,

"Oh well, good oh, you can do Sabrine next," he said and he wandered off.

"No you bloody wont!" I warned him, but in my mind the pink fluffy clouds were building, a great big fluffy hedgehog was walloping around my mind, and then there was this rushing and a huge fluffy green flying Scotsman train was rushing in and out of a tunnel, and I didn't know which way was up.

"Oohhh," I gasped, "Please," surely he should have come by now, "Tom," I said and suddenly oh my god he just exploded, inside me, pumping, pumping, pumping his cream deep inside me oh my god! My knees buckled and I collapsed over the bar.

"How was it for you?" Tom asked predictably.

"Yes, Ok, shall we get a Coffee?" I asked, well I wasn't going to admit it was fantastic was I?

I dressed quickly, and headed for home and a bath, it felt like he had shot gallons of cum into me and it was busy running out, I didn't wait for him, but he was waiting for me when I opened the Bathroom door, dressed only in a bath towel "Unfinished business," he said and he bent down to kiss me, he tasted good, I knew I tasted of Minty mouthwash, I relaxed and he just swung me off my feet,"Bedroom?" he asked.

I kicked my bedroom door open and he carried me in, and set me down on the bed, then he bolted the door and began to strip, "For heavens sake!" I shouted as he carefully folded his shirt, "Tom please," and then he was on me, "No, they're still tender," I protested as he messed around with my nipples, but finally he decided to kiss my neck, "No marks." I said.

"Don't you ever stop giving orders?" he asked.

"Tom!" I protested and then he was on me, "Oh Tom," I don't remember how it happened but suddenly he was deep inside me, all eight inches of him, I almost expected his thing to come up my throat and into my mouth from inside, oh he was good, so good, "So good!" I muttered, "Oohhh soooo gooood," was it Tom, was it the fact I hadn't had any decent straight sex for ages but I didn't care this was awesome.

"Want to change position?" he asked.

"Nooo," I gurgled, but there were three giant fluffy purple Corgettes having a pitched battle inside my head, and a Crocodile with a Gucci handbag and.

"Oops sorry," Tom said, "Can't hang," he said and he started cumming, not as much as before but nice, we lay for ages, until I realised his cum was seeping into my sheets and mattress where I had to sleep.

"Up, Up, Up," I ordered.

"Giving orders again!" he said and he pinned me to the bed for a long lingering mouth to mouth kiss.

He released me eventually, "Look I said, you need to realise who's in charge," and he pinned me down again.

I came to the conclusion that maybe he misunderstood what I meant, but I decided but it didn't matter anyway if it was this good.

Daddy rapped on the door, "Miss Farque is due in ten minutes Kitten," he said, "Get a shower first dear please, I suggest you share the water Mister Warrender," he said knowingly, "Cold preferably, Ten Minutes."

"What do you think Tom?" I asked.

"Oh, it can't be helped," he said.

"About the job?" I asked.

"Can I see you again?" he asked.

"All the time if you take the job," I told him.

"Yes, then yes," he agreed.

I did need the cold water, as Daddy suspected, not for me but for Tom, his powers of recovery were distinctly promising and nine minutes after Daddy came to find us I hustled Tom Downstairs.

I was still struggling to straighten my black knee length almost backless posh dress we I came downstairs and had no time to find any pantihose or stockings, but at least my pearl necklace and ear rings looked the part even if they were great grandma's cast offs!

Daddy was waiting for us, "Shall you join us do you think Tom," he asked as Tom went to open the front door.

"Yes Sir, I think I should like that," Tom agreed.

"Okey Dokey, I'll get the forms together make some calls, that sort of thing and ring you tomorrow or the day after," Daddy promised, "Do you have any worries at all?"

"Of course sir, I don't really know what is involved sir." he said.

"Well, don't be misled by Georgina,"Daddy said seriously," this is a serious job young man," he emphasised, "It can be very demanding, especially on a bitterly cold January morning,"

"Yes sir," Tom said, as Daddy opened the front door.

"But to begin with you will be helping to train Georgina or Rose as she is known professionally."
Daddy said, "and I must say." he said, "In my experience she is a particularly easy Pony to please."

"Yes sir I'll remember that, Thank you sir," Tom said.

"Particularly easy Pony to please?" I queried, "What did you mean a particularly easy Pony to please?"


Training Rose Part 4.

"Daddy, what do you mean a I'm a very easy Pony to please!" I demanded as Tom walked away up our driveway towards the road and his parents house barely a mile away.

"Well you are," Daddy replied as he patted my bottom, "But Miss Farque is due any second now." he paused staring up the driveway, "And here she is," he announced as a silver Ford Mondeo Taxi rolled into our drive.

Daddy stepped forward and as the Taxi halted he opened the door, "Ah Miss Farque I'm so glad you could come," he said as she glared at him.

"Miss Graves insisted," she said awkwardly, as she stepped from the car, her long legs now swathed by an ankle length flowing skirt, and her slender torso by a tightly buttoned blouse and a smart short jacket.

"Really?" Daddy observed, "Insisted, encouraged surely," he suggested, "Oh I'm sure you exaggerate," he said, "On my account if you please driver," and then in his usual suave way he guided Miss Farque through our impressive porch, he showed her the washroom, and, as he did so, he turned to me and gave me a huge wink. That usually meant Daddy planned to take her to bed that evening, so I shook my head, and grinned.

Miss Farque didn't drink alcohol, which meant Daddy's wine cellar was largely irrelevant, fortunately she ate chicken or else Mrs Grimes would almost certainly have throttled her, and she spoke in monosyllables which quite belied her status as a trainee English teacher, and to be honest she was really hard work.

"Have you ever been to Saddleworth Moor?" I asked deviously.

"No," she said, "I understand it is very miserable there." which was absolutely true, and broke the sequence of monosyllables.

"You prefer Iran?" he asked, and she shuffled nervously in her chair.

"No, ah my Father is American," she explained.

"So Miss Grimes tells me," Daddy agreed, "and your mother? is she in the States also?"

I'd swear she jumped six inches, "My mother?" she asked.

"Daddy!" I protested.

"I only asked," Daddy said innocently.

"She is in Pakistan," she said, "I think"

"Miss Graves said she hadn't been in touch for a while," he commented.

"No" she agreed, returning to monosyllables.

"You're not eating Miss Farque," I observed, she looked very uncomfortable.

"I am sorry," she said, "It is all so," she struggled for the right word, "Opulent." which probably wasn't the right word.

"Not to worry," Daddy said, "Eat up and Georgina can show you around.

"Daddy trains Athletes," I explained ambiguously, "We have some world class equipment," I explained, "Would you like to see?" I asked.

"Just leave the main course if you don't like it," Daddy suggested in exasperation at Miss Farque's slow consumption of Mrs Grimes chicken, "now you do like Sherry Trifle don't you, it's Mrs Grimes speciality." he lied, it came from Asda Walmart, in a box.

"And you, do you train?" Sonia asked me.

"Yes, I train myself and I oversee other Athletes training," I explained, "I'm just finishing a gap year, I'll show you around," I offered," If we've finished the Trifle, before it gets dark," and I smiled my best friendly smile for her, as I though "If you don't want to then I'll damned well drag you round."

I think it was seeing the bronze figurine of a winged Ponygirl Daddy used as a door stop for the lounge that first made Sonia think, and if it didn't the short trip up our drive along the road a few yards and down the Melton Villa drive in the old Land Rover with spare Tack strewn around and the photos in the lobby and the Tack room at Melton Villa could not have failed to arouse her interest, and may even have aroused her.

"Is this?" she asked hopelessly.

"Yes," I agreed, "There's me on the podium at Harrogate and Mummy at," I stopped in surprise as Sonia tried to run away, but Daddy had the outside door firmly shut.

"No you cannot," she blustered.

"Young lady, do you really wish to be sent back to Iran?" Daddy asked.

"I have papers," she protested, "I am a Student."

"But you owe three terms tuition fees, don't you?" Daddy said, "Miss Graves told me, fourteen thousand pounds to be paid by September the,"

"But these are prostitutes, prostitutes," she protested.

"Athletes my dear, Aesthetes, perhaps, the female form honed to perfection,"Daddy waxed lyrical.

"Yes,," I agreed, "And with blinkers and a bridle who will know it's you?"

She sat down, she looked so sad, "I understand you don't have a US passport?" Daddy asked, "May I ask why not?"

"My mother didn't want me to," she said.

"Never mind," I told her, "It's not all bad, through there is the Training room, come and see," I suggested.

I opened the door, the training room was part of the old stables with low ceilings and low door frames which meant you couldn't wear plumes indoors, a contrast to the recently built Tack room and Lobby with their state of the art Light tube technology which brings daylight from the roof through pipes so we didn't need windows . "You bend over the bar like this and," I explained as I demonstrated how I bent over the bar for Tom earlier.

"Mind you dress Georgina!" Daddy suddenly exclaimed, "You'll crumple it."

"Oh all right!" I complained and slipped the dress over my head, "What?" I asked as Daddy looked his disapproving look as I looked around for a hanger as I stood there in my black panties and black three inch heels until Daddy took it the dress from me from me and placed it carefully over his arm for me so I could bend over the bar again.

"What is the Bar for?" Miss Farque asked nervously, as I bent over the bar again, It fitted between two low walls, and was adjustable, some Training Bars had several different holes this one had an, "Eccentric fitting," what ever that was but you just moved a lever to adjust it then locked it with another lever.

"To get broken in my dear loosened up," Daddy said impatiently, "Now sign the damned forms and lets get started."

"My Solicitor, he also should look at them?" she insisted.

"Oh for gods sake," Daddy exclaimed, "Whose idea was this?"

"Mine I think, sorry," I admitted as I peered back at them.

"The fact is I can pay your outstanding Tuition fees from your appearance fees through the summer recess alone," Daddy suggested, "I haven't had time to think it through completely, but Miss Graves thinks it's a good idea and Georgina thinks you are have real Ponygirl potential.

"And you think I would do this?" she snarled, "You are sick."

"Well I can only apologise," Daddy said, "I thought a degree and a US passport and thirty thousand pounds for fifteen moths training was a reasonable deal, but what do I know of the Middle Eastern mind?"

"And what do I have to do, have sex with men?" she asked.

"Only if you're good," I said, "Obviously you need to be broken in, to learn obedience and some advanced Dressage requires you to brace for."

"That's advanced dear," Daddy explained, "I'm sure I can get you a US passport without going beyond basic UK, you could even do it part time should you wish."

"May I have a drink please," Miss Farque asked, her resolve weakening.

"Orange Juice?" I asked.

"Bandy!" she suggested, "I cannot really believe this is happening!"

"I'll fetch some," Daddy agreed, "French?"

"Is that a yes then?" I asked her.

"Well," she said, "I don't know what else I am to do, I owe money, I cannot travel to the USA, I cannot go back to Iran, can you not loan me the money?"

"Oh,that's priceless!" Daddy laughed, "I'm afraid not, this is a business you know," he told her, "but I just know that we can train you."

"You think so?" she said, she looked at a photo of Mummy tacked up with Daddy leading her out "Me, do that, I do not think so."

Daddy brought the Brandy, "Look come and speak to Evie and Silvana, you'll take their place effectively," he said as he set the glass and miniature bottle of Brandy down, "Now have some Orange juice and keep a clear head."

She jerked her head round, as if in shock, "Take their place?" she asked, "What will they do?"

"Ah, Evie has a job lined up in a real estate agency and I think Silvana wants to start a family," Daddy explained, but come and ask them yourself.

I don't think Miss Farque was quite ready to meet Evie and Silvana, "I should go home now." she suggested.

"Oh, stay for Coffee, fetch the Bentley Rose," Daddy ordered, a simple enough order, but he said Rose so he meant get Tacked up, everything except my Bridle that is, put something over it, maybe the black leather Minidress and bring the Bentley round, great, it just meant ten minutes sheer panic.

"If you're sure?" I asked, "really sure?"

"Yes, absolutely," Daddy insisted.

I wriggled back into my posh dress, sprinted to the Tack room, grabbed my Tack sprinted to the Trainer's room, grabbed my black leather minidress and black leather thigh boots, threw my clothes in the corner, pulled the Tack on, remembering to get it nice and tight round my crotch separating my lips, like Daddy likes, tightening the waist belt and the under breast belts, oh it felt so good, and then I slipped my black leather dress on, threw my bridle in a sports holdall, sprinted back to the Tack room, grabbed a complete spare set of Tack and sprinted to the garage, where the Bentley lurked, the outer door was closed, so I dived in pressed the garage door remote and as soon as the door opened enough I started the Bentley and drove very carefully around the quadrangle to the front door.

"Here she is, look after her Rose," Daddy said and he kissed Miss Farque's hand and opened the door so she could climb in.

She seemed surprised to see me in the leather dress, "Shall we?" I asked.

"Yes,thank you." she said as she sat comfortably in the cream leather seats.

I drove very decorously indeed, until we got to the straight bit before the Hump back bridge, that bit where you go down and then pop over the bridge and then up again so not really blind or anything and quite safe, even at 149 mph but Miss Farque completely over reacted. "Aaaaiiiieeee, she wailed, and she covered her face with her hand.

"I love doing that," I said.

"I nearly wet myself." Miss Farque squealed as she stared at me ashen faced.

"It's like the excitement when you're waiting for the result to be announced at our Events," I told her, "Especially when you're Tacked up like I am, see," I said and raised my skirt.

"Oh my god!" she wailed, "You are beautiful but I am not a Lesbian," Miss Farque insisted, "I am not interested in your advances, I need a US passport yes," she said, "But I am not a Lesbian, sorry."

"So what are you saying?" I asked, and I stared at her, well I stared between glances at the rapidly passing scenery just to make sure we were still on the road.

"I shall do it," she said, "But how do I trust you?"

"Because I keep my promises," I said, well I tried to mostly, and I swung the Bentley round in a skidding U turn at the beginning of the Dual carriageway, and headed back the way we came "Let's surprise Daddy!" I suggested.

She wasn't keen, but the night was cold and dark, and it was better than walking home so when I eased the Bentley into our drive as quietly as a mouse and coasted down to the garage it took surprisingly little effort to persuade Miss Farque to strip completely and dress in the spare Tack, in fact she made very little effort to resist, especially when I slipped off my own dress and put my own bridle on as well.

Her long dark hair set off the red plumes I chose for her much better than my blonde hair set off the blue and she looked stunning, so I made her try high stepping for a few moments and then we went inside to find Daddy.

We found Daddy in his Study, the door was shut but we could hear him typing on his computer, "Are you ready," I asked Miss Farque, and when she nodded nervously I pushed the door open.

"Hi Daddy, I brought someone to see you!" I announced as we stepped inside, Miss Farque and I trotted in together, me in thigh boots, and she in her low heels, well I trotted she bottled it and bolted down the corridor, "Miss Farque" I shouted after her, "You'll get yourself arrested dressed like that!"

"Capital!" Daddy announced.,"Give her a moment,"

She had no sooner got outside the front door than she decided she really did ought to get dressed, so she came inside again, "She's back," I told Daddy as I went to fetch her, "There's no need for that, just ask nicely and we'll get you dressed and get a Taxi." I explained.

"I panicked, I'm sorry," she explained, but this time she followed me into the study covering her sex with her right hand and breasts with her left arm as best she could.

"She wants the US passport up front before she takes you up front Daddy," I warned.

"Ha, very funny," he said, "Fifteen Thousand as a down payment ok?" he asked.

"Cash?" she demanded.

"Oh of course, would you care to count it?" Daddy suggested as he turned around and extracted three books from the shelves behind his desk which he opened to reveal a wad of notes in each, "Three times five thousand?"

"Yes, I believe you," she agreed.

"Good, if you'd like to sign a consent form, three copies please," Daddy suggested.

Miss Farque looked blank.

"Forms, look Consent forms," I took them from Daddy and waved them at her, "Daddy and I will train you, you get 50% of any earnings and a thousand a month and 50% of any transfer fee, not bad for an illegal immigrant," I snapped.

"The Fifteen is of course an advance," Daddy suggested, "To settle your debts," he explained, "While for next year we shall of course find a nice little bursary to cover your fees, is that all right?"

"Yes, ok I'll sign" she said, and she took Daddy's gold Parker pen and signed right on the dotted lines.

I quickly counter-signed as witness and placed the forms back on the desk.

Daddy smiled, "We'll register her as Sonia Arabella Princess of Melton, I think." he said

"She's a Ponygirl not an Ocean liner,"I exclaimed, "Sonia Graves will do."

"Sonia Arabella Graves, then," Daddy compromised, "Welcome!"

"Welcome aboard!" I said in turn.

"I know this is a mistake," Sonia said ruefully.

Daddy was like a cat with a new mouse to play with, he loved breaking in new Ponies, "Where are the wrist to ankle cuffs kitten?" he asked

"Under the sink of course," I told him, "Aren't we going next door?"

"No put the bar across the Kitchen doorway would you please?" he said, "She looks much the same length in the leg as your mother."

"We haven't even done an STD test or Aids test!" I cautioned him, "Have you had unprotected sex?" I asked.

"No, not for a long time!" she said. Poor Daddy he hated condoms, but I found the cuffs and I put the bar across the Kitchen door, it was too high, so I had to clear the cereals off the breakfast bar and then remove the top so we could use one of the many holes in the concrete supports for the bar.

"Can we not start tomorrow." Sonia asked as Daddy made her bend and I took a swab of sweat from her brow to run through out latest electronic Hi Tech Aids and STD detector, and then Daddy was satisfied.

Daddy fastened the cuffs leaving her more or less on tip toe, her wrists cuffed to her ankles and her bottom raised obscenely and then he said, "Warm her up would you Kitten," and off he went to watch TV.

"Daddy!" I hissed as I rushed after him, "I don't know what to do!"

"You're a girl, you know what you like, you have to learn some time!" he said uselessly, I walked quietly back to Sonia, she peered up at me awkwardly and I peered down at her.

"I don't know what to do!" I exclaimed.

"Ohhhhh" Sonia shook with frustration, but Daddy must have done something because next thing Dot, Dorothy Channing, Daddy's head groom appeared.

She was puffing a bit, her ample boson rising and falling under the green quilted jacket she always seemed th wear, "His Lordship said you might need a hand," she said, "Put the kettle on, mine's white two sugars, and don't use de-caff I like my Coffee full strength.

"Ok," I agreed.

"Bit old this one?" Dot enquired, "This the one you spotted?" she asked.

"Yes, Daddy sort of left me to it," I explained.

"Right, you need two whips," Dot explained, "Straight bristles no knots, half a dozen lightly around the buttocks, she said, left then right using both whips lightly, no marks and then just redden the lips a little like this."

Sonia went from mild disinterest when her buttocks were paddled to sheer terror as Dot began to expertly flail the lips of her sex, "Its like a little bud unfolding look," she said, "You try,"

"No!" Sonia wailed but fascinated I took the whip and tried a swat at her left lip, it made contact and Sonia yelped.

"Keep it even, do you see," Dot said, "That's right three each and now, lets have the crotch belt loose."

Dot peered down with grandmotherly concern, all her fifty seven years etched in deep lines across her chubby face as I undid Sonia's crotch belt, "Well her honey pots bubbling nicely," she observed, "Don't suppose she had an enema, for the tradesman's?"

"No," I confirmed.

"Don't matter, His Lordship likes the full frontal approach," Dot explained and she dipped her index finer into Sonia's sex, "Mmm taste her," she said, "Lovely and clear, she ain't had a bloke for ages,"

I did as Dot said, but, well pussy juice, not something I know anything about, but it wasn't unpleasant, Dot smiled and explained he modus operandi, "I reckons about three or four minutes when they're nicely cleaned out, whip handle up the tradesmans and another up the front and usually bobs your uncle off they cum." she said illustrating her words with explanatory gestures.

"Please!" Sonia pleaded and Dot did no more that ease the whip handle delicately between Sonia's peach like sex wobble it around to get it lined up and then she just pushed about seven inches of whip handle straight into Sonia.

"Where's my Coffee?" Dot asked impatiently.

"Noo, you can't leave me!" Sonia protested, as she sort of hung from the bar with the strands of the whip drooping down her back.

"I damned well can," Dot reminded her, "Lets have our Coffee in the Parlour Georgie," Dot insisted, "Bring some biscuits," and she picked up her coffee and we went through to the small servants parlour with its wooden benches and small TV.

I handed Dot the tin of Biscuits, "No Macaroons?" she complained, "Oh well, have a look in the cupboard on the left and give Sonia a couple of wanks as you pass."

"I'm sorry?" I said.

"Pull it out about three inches and back in, wobble it about a bit, see what she likes," Dot said, "Custard Creams will do if there's no Macaroons," she added.

I did as Dot asked, it seemed strange hearing Sonia moan as I moved the whip handle out and then back in her, she sort of whimpered.

"Do you like that," I asked.

"Yes," she whispered, "oh please don't stop."

"I've got to find Dot some biscuits, sorry," I apologised and I went to look for biscuits, "There's Rich Tea and some Chocolate ones," I shouted.

"Never mind," she said, "Bring her off then we can watch that Woss bloke on Telly."

Bring her off, but how.

Daddy that was how, he suddenly appeared immaculate in his Pyjamas, "Excellent prep, just bubbling away," he said, "Put that whip away somewhere would you Kitten?" he said, "Wipe it first."

I pulled the whip from Sonia, watching the black ebony gently emerge from her pink softness glistening with golden pussy juice.

"Look away Kitten," Daddy ordered and suddenly Sonia gasped, I looked round, Sonia was bent over the bar, naked except for her Tack, and behind her Daddy stood Immaculate in striped Pyjamas with his unseen stiff pink manhood thrust firmly and deeply into Sonia.

"Ohhhhh," Sonia gasped.

"Undo the cuffs Kitten," Daddy ordered, "I think she want's to be my hot water bottle tonight!"

"Uggggh," I shuddered in frustration, it was so awkward when he blurred the lines between Lover and Pony, but after all it was his business and I couldn't do that for him.

I felt terribly and unreasonably jealous.

"Twenty three, twenty four," Daddy counted his thrusts, "Right that's enough now upstairs with you young pony first bedroom on the left." Daddy insisted.

He liked a rest after twenty four thrusts, he was sensitive about his length, so he made up for it with his stamina, "Ask Dot to bring us some Cocoa in twenty minutes would you?" he asked and he took Sonia gently by the arm and led her away.

I let Sonia enjoy her evening.

Tomorrow I would be in charge.

I couldn't sleep, I tried my bed at Melton House, then I went home and finally in desperation I curled up in the mower shed and finally drifted off to sleep.

Dot woke me with a well aimed bucket if ice cold water at five a.m. "Better get an enema and get that lazy cow down here," she said.

There's nothing absolutely nothing more invigorating or horrible than an al fresco cold enema, except an al fresco enema on a cold winters morning perhaps, and the adaptor was already fitted to the hose pipe so I did myself, it was horrible, I needed three fills before I was sure I was clean and then I found a collar and leading rein and went to find Sonia.

I heard snoring as I approached Daddy's room, it wasn't good, Sonia was still in bed with him when she should have been lying on the rug by the bed and cuffed and leashed to a ring bolt or bed leg.

"Sonia," I whispered.

"Bugger off, bring us breakfast about ten," Daddy ordered and he snuggled down with Sonia and went back to sleep.

I went back down stairs, it all seemed a bit pointless trying to train Sonia so in the bright slanting sunlight of the early morning I retrieved my posh frock, discarded my tack and dressed respectably once more I made my way next door to my own bedroom where I undressed once again and slid into my bed, it was still not six o'clock so I slid down under the covers for an extra hours sleep.

Daddy woke me, "Oi!" he said.

"Oi, this is my room," I exclaimed, "Get out."

"No, now this Sonia, it's no name for a Pony Girl is it?" he suggested.

"Nor is Sonia Annabella Princess of Melton," I suggested.

"But how about "Farque of Melton," "Arrabella Farque of Melton," "Farque for short,"

"Daddy," I said, "You're a genius!"

"Just countersign the alterations on the consent forms, would you?" he asked, "and it's lunch time."

I dressed and went downstairs when he had gone, Mrs Grimes had left a salad which I ate quickly, "Will you run into town and pick up the engraving, new tags for Farque and some for your self."

"Can I take the Bentley." I asked innocently.

"No you can damned well run, you're supposed to be in training, or shall I send you back to Bryants?" he said.

I pretended to think about it, "Oh all right!" I agreed, but its ten miles!"

"Just over fourteen actually," he said, "Athletics kit, Tack might frighten the Locals."

"Daddy!" I protested but it was useless he was laughing.

"Dot will time you so no slouching off to the sweet shop," he warned, "Go on get changed, get on with it!"

It's not all sex and glamour being a Pony girl, you don't get fit and healthy lying by a pool you know but fourteen miles, that's a half marathon and a bit, with no water stops, except the Kings Head pub and the Cafe, and the sweet shop, but I dutifully put my shorts and a sports bra on and a tee shirt, and my trainers, and took a credit card and my phone just in case and Dot recorded the time as I set off.

Three Lorry drivers offered me a lift, usually it's more than that and eventually I got back all horrible and sweaty to find Tom waiting, "Can't stop, must find Dot." I explained as I ran past him.

I found Dot, showered, I put a nice minidress on and came down stairs to find Tom had gone, "Round next door Miss Georgina." Mrs Grimes said so off I went to find him.

I took the short cut through the hedge and ran up the slope, I found Tom in the training room with Daddy and Sonia, or Farque as we now called her.

"Ah Rose," Daddy said awkwardly, as I walked in following the sound of his voice, "Tom's not quite ready for you,"

That was an understatement, he was standing with his trousers around his ankles pleasuring Miss Farque who was bent over a training rail.

"Been on the treadmill all afternoon," Daddy said, "Thought she needed a reward."

"Not from my man she doesn't!" I protested as I moved closer and watched Toms magnificent prick pistoning in and out of her sopping hole.

"I think she's loosening up a bit sir," Tom suggested.

"Yes, well hang on in there a few more minutes would you there's a good chap." Daddy suggested.

"Oh no you don't," I wailed at him, "Your mine now!" but my knees were buckling.

"You need a nice gentle fuck I think Kitten," Daddy said, "let Tom work off his excess energy first then you can get all lovey dovey, "Perhaps the Den on the island, I'll have some food sent down."

"He'll need paramedics when I get hold of him." I said but those fourteen miles had taken their toll and I flopped back in my chair and watched Tom in action.

"What do you think Tom," Daddy asked.

"I'm trying not to cum sir," Tom answered, "Hi Georgie,"

"Hi bloody Georgie indeed," I exclaimed, it wouldn't have been so bad but my clit was throbbing and, well I just had to, you know, with my fingers.

"Rose!" Dot shouted, "You naughty pony, you know that's not allowed."

"Sorry Dot," I said withdrawing my finger with an audible plop, "But Tom's busy!"

"You know the rules," she insisted, and she produced a pair of padded handcuffs.

"Hands behind" she said and I had to bear the indignity of having my wrists bound behind me, "Mr Bryce the lawn mower man might still be around if you're desperate," she said, "or maybe you could use the spike?" The spike, an eight inch cast Iron Dildo on a concrete base in the yard just outside the training room.

She saw the way I looked at her, "Oh spike it is then," she said.

She made me kneel down, get myself positioned everything, all she did was pull my shorts down, she didn't even spread my pussy to start me sliding down the monstrous iron shaft but as it happened I was so wet it didn't matter anyway!

It's cold and hard and unforgiving, far more manly than any man and you have to do all the work, but its so filling, and fulfilling, and of my gosh did it hit the spot I needed it so badly, and the whole world and my cares and troubles just dissolved.

"Kitten," Daddy roused me from my ecstasy, "You'd better suck Toms cock if you want a fuck before midnight." he said and there was Tom, his tool all sticky with cum and Farque's love juices standing there flaccid and useless.

"Ok." I said, I was too full to care really but Dot manhandled Tom into position in front of me and Tom let her place his half flaccid penis in my mouth and I began to suck.

"Just look at that recovery!" Daddy marvelled.

"Thob!" I protested, but Tom was getting harder and harder.

"Thob!" I said again, I wanted him hard not a mouthful of cum, but I was too late and he was pumping uncontrollably and I was rubbing up and down on the spike and Daddy seemed mesmerised.

"Oh Thob," I protested and there were red crocodiles dancing and fluffy bananas and a soft pink Jumbo jet dancing with, "Ohhhhhh Thob," I gasped and my knees buckled and as I sank down I rammed that stupid spike so deep inside me I was sure I had done myself a serious injury.

"Georgina," Daddy exclaimed sternly, "You really should put Tom's needs before your own," he stated firmly, "Poor Tom rather wanted to fuck you you silly Pony, and you brought yourself off instead."

"Sorry Daddy," I said through a mouthful of cum.

"Never mind," he said, "Now get a shower and some minty mouthwash and its an early night for you young lady."

"Yes Daddy," I agreed.

"And take Tom with you," he suggested, "Sonia and I have unfinished business."

"Yes I gathered that." I observed, "She's supposed to be in training."

"Miss Farque has delicate and precise tastes and requirements which I need to understand if I am to train her, delicate precise motions," he waxed lyrical as he was wont to do when seriously infatuated, "A delicate flower needing a particular combination of technique and physical attributes to bring forward that delicious moment of release and abandon."

"Yes Father," I agreed disinterestedly.

He raised his chin, and gave me one of his looks, "A delicate flower, and utterly unlike you Rose, because based on this evenings performance of public masturbation with a cast iron spike I suggest that you have the delicacy of a Cambodian street whore."

"Daddy that's not fair!" I protested.

"Oh for heavens sake Tom, take her away to the Island play her something romantic on your Ipod, take a bottle or two of wine and make love," he made it sound like lerve," to her will you."
Daddy suggested.

"Yes sir," he said, "Would you like that Rose?" he asked, but before I could say "That sounds lovely," Daddy started ranting again.

"Damn it all who's in charge here," he demanded, but he knew very well, "Just forget the wine and the island and well, everything, and take her in the stable with a packet of peanuts and bottle of Cider I think you'll find she's a particularly easy Pony to please."

Training Rose part 5

We all agreed I needed to train intensively for the Grand Prix at Cannes, but maybe my idea of intensive training, eight hours a day spent actually training, say seven until twelve, with a coffee break around ten and hour and a bit for lunch and and then train till four thirty and then relax maybe see a movie before getting tacked up again and sleeping in a Pony stall at Melton Villa, that and rationing my sex and not riding my motorbike, seemed fair enough to me but no Daddy thought this was unrealistic, especially when some girls had literally been bred for Pony Girl competition.

I should have realised Daddy and Tom had other ideas, but I missed the signs, "Gerald," Tom said to Daddy one morning after Tom gave me my emema, and when I was waiting for my arm clincher and gag to be removed so I could eat breakfast.

Tom had actually called Daddy Gerald, Daddy only ever let his closest friends call him Gerald, Major General McNaughton was his usual favourite form of address, Lord Melton, his least favoured.

"Gerald, ah Sir, I've been studying the films you sent over and."

"And what?" Daddy asked in irritation.

"It's Rose's posture," he said, "Round shouldered." he said.

"Well make her do press ups man!" Father exclaimed in exasperation.

"Her head is too far forward sir." he said, "For a Pony," he squirmed suspecting he had incurred Daddy's extreme displeasure.

"I know Tom, she looks lovely in a ball gown but," he said, "You've only got ten days before Cannes,"

"Dot, said about a posture hook," Tom suggested. Dot, Dorothy Channing, was Daddy's head groom, and a Posture hook was gross.

"She can't wear a Posture Hook!" Daddy exclaimed.

"Not here sir, no, but Henry Bryant will have her at Saddleworth for a reasonable fee. just for week if we like,to toughen her up sir."

"It will need some organising," Father suggested.

"I'll run her up there sir," Tom suggested, "In think we should make her train overnight and so maybe a mild sedative."

"You are not, repeat not using my Bentley." Daddy insisted.

"No sir, I thought perhaps the VW Golf?" he suggested.

"That's Georgina's, oh why not, there's hardly a panel that hasn't been repaired." Daddy said dismissively.

I stamped my foot angrily, he made it sound like I was a careless driver, but I was a very good driver, my instructor at the Silverstone Track day said he never saw anyone try the Complex flat in fifth before, or use the handbrake as much as I did, I was just unlucky.

"You know Tom, I could never have suggested a Posture hook in a million years, you have a great future as a trainer Tom." Daddy said.

And no future at all as my boyfriend I decided, although just then, cold and wet from my al fresco enema, and bound and helpless I wouldn't have cared who wanted to be my lover as long as they had seven inches of solid warm muscle.

I had a dozen good reasons why it was a stupid idea but with my bit- gag in I was in no position to explain, so when they went to take me to the tack room I simply refused to move.

"Rose, walk on," Daddy insisted, I stamped my foot angrily.

"She's all yours," Daddy said as he stood aside and handed Tom a whip, I stared at Tom, he wouldn't dare, but he did, left and then right across my buttocks on the diagonal, ouch! it hurt, and he kept going, I decided this wasn't the best time for a show down, I'd just wait till he wanted sex!

I followed Tom to the tack room, the Posture hooks were not used often, part of it, we called it the hair wrap, was like an overgrown hair curler, with nobbles which the "victim's" hair could be wrapped around and held secure, the other end was a hook in stainless steel, at least ours were, some were simple stove enamelled iron, Yuck. Both had loops on and were connected by a thick leather strap with a buckle and lots of adjustment holes that went up your back and they also had an adjustable screw fitting for "fine tuning," so that when it was tightened you had to keep your chin up and back arched, or it threatened to rip your hair out or tear your bottom.

Oh yes, the hook goes up your bottom, and a very long way, it is thoroughly unpleasant to say the least and of course you can't wear clothes with it, or sit down, or see your feet, Arrggghhh!

I stamped with frustration, but Dot appeared very quickly, "Fancy you with a posture hook Miss Georgina, I must get a photo!" she chortled, "I'll use that new carbon fibre one in gold to match your hair," she suggested, she meant the wrap not the hook.

Oh if only I could have spoken, or freed my arms or even kicked her! but I couldn't, and I just had to stand there as she started to braid my long blonde hair around the hair wrap, damn it my hair needed a wash and shampoo not be tortured in a posture hook hair wrap.

Dot did her usual neat job binding my hair securely into the wrap and then she sealed it in place with what felt like gallons of hair lacquer.

"Now we'll just try the hook and then you can have your breakfast," Dot suggested, "bend over!"

I tried to resist but Tom actually swatted me under my breasts, the sod, I hated him, how dare he, and before I knew I was bending over the bench.

He held my shoulders as Dot manipulated the hook, it was nasty and cold and covered with slimy lube,and there was no way Dot was going to get that horrible thing into my bottom, no way in the world.

It went in with a horrible cold feeling deep oh so deep inside, I shook and shuddered and tried to get away, but it was hopeless and then they made me stand upright, I stamped and shook my head but still they insisted and now Tom knew exactly where to swat me under my breast, I jumped up and Dot just hooked one end of the strap through the loop in the end of the hook and the other end to the hair wrap and started to pull it tight.

It was horrible, absolutely vile, I thought they would tear my hair out or split my bottom, "You pull it tight like this first Tom" Dot was saying, "See pull it good and tight, you want the ass hole about half an inch open ideally," she was saying as I arched my back and stared at the ceiling and planned how I could slowly kill the pair of them.

"That's it," she said, "Tighten the buckle and" she continued, "slip the tool off and then tighten it on the screw, Ok?"

Tom agreed, the bastard, so I stood there, head well back, breasts thrust out looking completely ridiculous, "Let's get her used to it," he said.

"Look at her Tom, suddenly she's got breasts!" Dot exclaimed, "Now hitch her to the cart and tke her for a run but be careful she wont be able to see thing so drive very carefully, accurately," Dot insisted.

Personally I wanted my breakfast, but no they fitted the waist belt and shoulder straps and all the rest of the cart harness and led me out to the cart shed, I would have run away if only I could have seen where to go, all I could see was sky and if I tried to look down I either nearly scalped myself ripped my bottom open or both.

They hitched up the cart and Tom ordered "Walk on," so I did, "Giddy up" he said soI lunged forward, his weight went back the shafts came up and we slithered to a halt with me about thee feet in the air and him on the ground still in the seat looking up at me. I could see him reflected on the Tack room window,

"I suppose you think that's funny," Dot exclaimed.

Actually I did.

"You got to watch that one, her acceleration," Dot said seriously, "keep your weight forward and you'll be fine," then she simply grabbed the shafts and pulled me down and Tom up, so I could continue.

I trotted around the grounds for about half an hour pretty aimlessly but as I never actually ran into a tree or into the lake I came to realise that maybe Tom knew a little about driving, and then it was breakfast time, and the miserable sods put me a bucket of Museli and a bowl of orange juice, in a stall, popped my gag bit out and then rushed out of the way before I could complain.

You can't eat from a bucket with your hands bound behind you and a posture hook holding your head back, I tried very hard but it's impossible, believe me.

Dot relented in the end, and undid the strap on the posture hook, so at least I could bend, and although it was hardly an elegant way to eat I had soon scooped every last scrap from that bucked and drained the orange juice bowl as well, I was so hungry, and that's when I realised they had spiked my orange juice, with a sedative or sleeping draft.

I remember bits of the trip to Yorkshire, actually it was a good thing I was drowsy because Tom is an appalling driver, and my poor little car, she was being overtaken all the time she must have been humiliated, I hated being overtaken, ugggh!

They must have dressed me for the trip and then got me tacked up before I woke because I was tacked up when I came round in the early evening, posture hook everything, except there was a new leather arm clincher of a new style I hadn't seen before.

"Hey up lass, long time no see," Henry Bryant greeted me,"Oh bloody hell where yer clit ring gone?" he asked. "Oi, Warrinder, where's her bloody clit ring,"

"Ah she decided," he said.

"Yer soft southern lump she don't bloody decide she's a bloody Pony you wazzock." Henry observed pleasantly.

"Look Georgina is my girl friend as well," Tom explained.

"Bloody hell, you screw yer pony, up the ass, up the cunt any bloody which way up but you do not, repeat not fall in love with em, do you understand!" Henry raged.

"Yes Henry, good advice but you never stuck to it did you?" Martha said as she emerged from the shadows, "I was West Yorkshire Dressage champion two years running, Aileen, Ellie they used to call me, sort of put it behind me now so I calls myself Martha, like Mother ent it, " she said, "Any road this un couldn't afford to pay me prize money so he says lets get wed, and here I am!"

"Look Warrinder you might just as well bugger off down south again and come back when we're done." Henry suggested in his pleasant Yorkshire way.

"I suppose," he said, "I suppose she's in good hands." and that's the last I saw of him for a week.

Henry on the other hand set about fitting me with a clit ring again, he never bothered to freeze it He just banged a gold rod through with the tool circled it round and soldered it with some hi tech
cordless solder gun and it hurt like hell,

"Got a comforter Martha, I reckon a three," Henry announced.

"See his Lordship says you 'ent got to be fucked up the front so you can wear a bloody dildo 24/7 if that's what he bloody wants, Martha!"

"Yes Henry," she replied. "I'm here," she said, "I reckon a three and a half."

"Got any lube?" he asked.

"You got to be joking she looks like she's got an oil pipe loose," Marth inelegantly if accurately described my state of arousal and easily slid the three and a half up my vagina, where to my surprise he connected a little strap from the blunt end to my clit ring."

"Like it, one stamp for yes." Henry suggested.

No I did not like it one bit, no way so I gave about a dozen stamps of disapproval to Henry's amusement, "Right cart up to moor for you young Pony, get Annie to help you Martha, I needs a beer." Henry said in his charming manner. "And try a skeleton boot."

The skeleton boot had a sole for the ball of your foot and was shaped like a stiletto but had no heel, the straps were pretty minimal so it was like running barefoot in high heels, but had the big advantage that you could run over stones, I didn't really mind, it was better than long sweaty leather boots really. Martha helped me off with my trainers and on with the skeletons and then with her daughter Annie's help Martha's soon had the harness on me and they took me outside.

It was nearly dark outside, and when I saw they had fitted lights to the cart I just about flipped, "Calm down!" Martha chided and gave me a few swats with the whip, "Henry knows what he is at."

Did he, we must have gone up and down the track to the moor a dozen times, Henry sitting in the cart steering me because my head was so far back I couldn't have seen even if it hadn't been dark, and it wasn't too bad actually, he was very sensitive as a driver and as soon I learned to turn with the lightest touch on the reins I was fine and then he stopped me at the top of the climb.

I felt fingers scrabbing at the belt on my posture hook, oh god Henry wants to fuck my bottom was my first reaction but no, he just loosened it so I could see where I was going.

"That better pet," he asked, I stamped.

"Right, walk on, that daft Warrinder bugger been watching for the last hour but he's buggered off now," Henry said conspiratorially, so come on let's see what you're made of," he chuckled and in the faint moonlight I saw the track stretching ahead to Eli's cottage, it looked strange, usually I had been blindfold along this stretch before but now with the moonlight and the glow from the lights of nearby towns staining the darkness it seemed somehow rather surreal.

"Turn towards pub lass," Henry suggested, as we approached Eli's and then after a quarter mile he stopped me, "You know this bit," he said, "Dead straight, near on a mile," so I want you to run.

I turned and stared.

"All right just a moment," he said, and he climbed down and unclipped the dildo from the clit ring and pulled it out, I have never been so relieved in my life it did absolutely nothing for me, next he loosened the posture hook completely and pulled that out of me too, and he secured the hair binder to the cart harness so it didn't flop about. "That better?" he asked.

I stamped, "So run girl, You ready, three two one, go!" And I ran, I was tired but the adrenalin kicked in I ran and ran galloping over the ground, "Go on lass go!" Henry shouted, as I hurtled along, the cart hardly slowing me at all, just the lack of my arms pumping slowing me fractionally.

The Pub loomed from the darkness far sooner than I expected and Henry led me into the Car Park and parked the cart between a MINI and a Range Rover lashed my reins round the fence and wandered in the public bar.

I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me but then he reappeared with a couple of hot meat pies and some drinks on a tray.
"Look lass," he said, "I want to have a chat with thee," he said, "So bloody shut up 'till I says me piece, alright?"

I stamped and he undid my gag- bit.

"Now look, it seems to me you're just about perfect, I ain't saying that so as I can screw you because I'll do that on the way home anyway, but the thing is." he said.

"Yes?" I said awkwardly.

"You any good at half marathons?" he said.

"Yes, Dot often makes me run to the village, that's fourteen miles or so."

"See there's one on Saturday and Harry Wallace's daughter is favourite, he's a cocky sod."

"Right, and what's in it for me?"

"Comfy bed, bit of bar work, no more training till Saturday, oh and best bit, I won't screw you on way home."

"One condition," I suggested, "I want to get absolutely sozzled, I haven't been drunk for ages."

"Good Lass, Warrinder's buggered off, Police camera picked him up on A1 a few minutes ago, so we're safe for a bit," he announced, "right, I'll get you some clothes."

"Henry!" I protested, "Don't leave me like this!"

"Oh, yes," he said and he loosened my arm clincher, my arms hurt like hell and before I realised he was gone.

"Evening" I heard a voice as the chap climbed into the Range Rover, I shrank inside with humiliation.

"I am not doing that for you if you get a drink drive ban Dan Keating, don't you even think about it!" his companion exclaimed and then they were gone.

The food smelled good, too good, so I washed both pies down with the orange juice, liberally laced with vodka I suspected, and Henry' pint of real ale as well, suddenly I felt much better so unhitched the harness from the cart and went to find Henry.

You know when you walk into a room all dressed up to the nines and you just dream that everyone will stop talking and stare? Well forget haute couture and try Northern area Pony girl tack if you want to make an entrance, you could have heard a pint glass drop, and I'm sure several did, I suppose that's when I sort of realised my mistake.

"Stripper's here Clive!" some wag shouted.

"It's that 'un as we had a bit back," Arthur Grimsdyke exclaimed, "Anybody lend me a tenner?"

"I'm not the bloody stripper," I announced, but the warmth of the pub and the smell of stale beer and the smell tobacco smoke, yes I know it's illegal but Sergeant Wilde was there smoking his pipe in uniform, so it didn't seem to be a priority, and anyway I slumped over the nearest table.

Clive the Landlord revived me with a large Vodka and Lemon in a pint glass, at least I supposed there was some Lemon I didn't remember much afterwards, except going upstairs and someone arguing over whether they could take me up the bum and the front at the same time.

"Kiss me Tom I ordered," and this weasly face with a full beard kissed me, it was like being slapped in the face by a rat, yuck.

"Her thought you was Warrender," Henry said faintly in the background, and I heard him say
"No you can't fuck her face for a tenner you pay twenty five like everyone else," someone argued and he replied "Sergeant Wilde gets a public service discount."

The main thing was I was nice and warm, that was all that mattered, as long as they used condoms!

Henry kept the Vodka coming and I suppose at some stage he took me home, it turned out they loaded me in the cart and towed it behind Sid Farnsworth's quad bike with Henry hanging in to a mudguard and then Henry pulled it the last bit.

The Band of the Coldstream Guards were accompanying Status Quo in concert inside my head when I woke with the dawn, I had the mother and father of a headache, and I was so sore from the night before and I never wanted sex or Vodka ever again.

"Oh you decided to join us," Martha enquired, "Had a good sleep?" I looked around bleary eyed, I was in one of the stalls at Henry's stable complex lying on the straw and almost completely naked, even my arm clincher was gone, only the hair wrap remained.

"It's eight o'clock." I pointed out, hardly a lie in."

"What about yesterday?" she said, "You stood up threw up, pissed yourself and went back to sleep." she explained.

"Oh!" I said.

"Yes," she said, "Twenty seven, Twenty eight hours, not a bad sleep."

"Oh god!" I said "My training."

"Henry said you're coming along real nicely and there's two hundred and fifty quid for you, that's your share of the other night," she gabbled, "Oh and can you do Thursday week for the Hunt?"

"No I can't." I said, "I'll be in France."

"Henry said you're to come in the house and get cleaned up when you're sober enough to walk," Martha said.

"Ok," I agreed and climbed unsteadily to my feet, Martha grabbed my hands and unceremoniously pulled them around behind me and wound an elastic tie around them, "What?" I demanded.

"Enema, no arguments," she said.

Al fresco enema's are no fun at the best of times but I wasn't even tacked up, anyone could see it was me, and of course I had an audience, Annie and he brother Albert, and some bloke from the pub and a lorry driver doing a delivery and Martha just rams the nozzle on the hose pipe up my bum and turns the water on, whoosh.

"Ahhh" I yelled and when my tummy swelled right up so I couldn't stand any more she let it go, and then did it again, it was so humiliating, but it sure woke me up and the hangover became just a secondary concern.

"What a mess," Martha said as she sprayed my legs and washed the mess away, "That's what happens when you miss a day,"

"I'd never have believed it if I hadn't sin it with me own eyes." the Lorry driver said as he handed Henry what looked like a twenty pound note, and before I could react Martha was spraying my hair with freezing cold water.

"Stop it!" I wailed.

"Shut up, we got to get you cleaned up young lady," Martha exclaimed, "Look we'll go in in a second, just give the boys a thrill first shall we?"

I dreaded to think what she had in mind but as it turned out she just meant letting them look, but I couldn't wait to get inside.

Martha took me upstairs, first she untied me and set to shampooing my hair and getting that damned hair wrap un-tangled, I swear it took an hour and then she let me have a lovely long bath with about every sort of smelly bath salt they could find thrown in it before she started on my hair again, I just knew it was a scam.

My suspicions were increased when they brought me an early lunch, no alcohol, just enough salad for a football team, half a cold Chicken or was it Turkey, French loaf loads of butter, I ate my fill, lying in the bath with the plate on a sort of rack which fitted across the bath, all washed down with vile Yorkshire tap water, no wonder they loved their beer!

Martha started to hurry me up, she found me a white tee shirt three sizes too small and a thong and a white miniskirt and brand new white shoes with three inch heels, brand new in a box so Henry could take them back new, and I suppose I did a passable impersonation of a blonde bimbo when I put them on, and if that wasn't enough Henry seemed to have cleaned out the local Pound- Land's beauty department and he had left a table full of cheap mascara and lip sticks for me to try.

"Do you want me to look like a brainless bimbo," I asked, "like a total tart?" I demanded.

"Yes please dear." Martha said "Harry Wallace is coming over, Henry's going to bet you beat Sandra, that's Harry's daughter in run on Saturday."

"Oh, you might have said," I agreed, "Can we stretch this tee shirt and make my boobies look bigger?"

Martha smiled, she remembered her days of Amature Athletics before she became a Pony Girl.

"I used to do AAA before I got into this," she said, "Triple Jump, different training though, couldn't do both, not like you."

"That's a pity," I agreed, "Is that Harry now."

It was Harry an hour early.

Martha wasn't ready so I let him in, "I'm Rose," I said "You can call me Rosie."

"Where's Henry?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know," I agreed "Do you like my boobies, Mr Wally, Henry says I should have implants but."

Harry Wallace was six foot three, the kitchen doorframe was six foot high, Harry really shouldn't have been staring at my boobies

Crunch, "Aw me bleeding head," Harry shouted and he grabbed for a chair.

"It's not bleeding Mr Wally," I said, "Oh but it is I'll wipe it for you," I said as I whipped my Tee shirt off, that's when he fainted.

"Eh Rose that was a rotten thing to do, Henry will be pleased!" Martha cried as I pulled the Tee shirt back on again.

Henry was delighted, Harry had left poor flat chested Sandra in his car so I went to get her, "I'm Rose," I said, "Your Daddy said to come in," I said like some kind of imbecile.

"Right," she said, as she set her newspaper down, "Is he on the Whisky again?"

"Oh no," I replied, "No come in and see." I suggested, she had a lovely action I realised as she swung her legs out of the car, but too thin, more your marathon runner than half marathon or Cross Country my speciality, no real muscle.

A couple of implants and she would make an Ok Ponygirl I surmised.

"I'm supposed to be training but I broke my nail," I lied, "And my Boobies get sore from all the bouncing up and down."

You should have see her cynical grin, she knew all she had to do was get the stakes raised and she and her Daddy could make a killing, and she strode powerfully across the cobble stone path to the Kitchen in her trainers, while I tottered awkwardly on my heels, trying hard not to break an ankle, something perhaps all too easy to do.

Henry and Martha were in great form, going on about how good I was, "I told Harry here how good you were at half Marathons." Henry explained.

"Oh yes I was under eleven independent schools champion," I lied.

"Thousand was it Henry," Harry chortled, "How's about we double it?"

"And again, Henry said, double your double,"

"What Ten thousand!" I added, "Oh how exciting!"

Harry looked at Henry with look of complete amazement, I thought I had overdone the dumb blonde bit big time but no, the bought it hook line and.

"Dad you ent got that sort if cash!" Sandra said, "That's my training for next year Dad,"

"Five thousand," Henry said, I'll wager Ten thousand against your Five that my girl wins and if she does I'll train your girl for a year for free."

"Hey hold up," Harry exclaimed.

"Go for it Dad!" Sandra said, "I'll wipe floor with that stupid bimbo."

"Deal?" said Henry.

"Or no deal," I added it was supposed to be a joke but I guess they never watched daytime TV.

"Shake?" said Harry and they shook hands.

"Can I take these bloody stupid heels off now?" I asked, "Ever seen a Ponygirl ranch before Sandra?" I asked as I grabbed my trainers and gratefully pulled them on.

"No," she said suddenly a lot less confident, "We should be getting back."

"Yes, till Monday Henry," Harry exclaimed and he stood up to leave.

"Come on Dad," Sandra urged and suddenly they were gone.

I turned to Martha, "I need some things for the run, sports bra mainly, decent shorts and stuff."

"All right, we'll go into town," she said, "We might as well get off now."

Martha had the filthiest most beat up Range Rover that ever existed but she hustled it along fairly quickly and pretty soon we were in town, I found a sports shop easily enough and got myself sorted out and then well there was a specialist lingerie shop and I couldn't resist an uplift Bra, and then with a Tee shirt only two sizes too small well, lets say there was no shortage of wolf whistles!

Thats when I realised I had nothing decent to wear and Martha had a credit card.

I only spent about five hundred pounds, but I got a lovely black dress and a fur wrap from Oxfam and a Silver one from Age concern and a few odd bits and pieces, and I sort of felt ready for Saturday.

We watched a Movie before we went home, "Henry will be worried," Martha chided.

"So what?" I replied, and we were home at the farm a little before ten.

Early bed sneak out to the Pub get bladdered was plan A but Henry was there way before me
and there on the supper table with the pastie and french bread was a gallon cask of ale and a half bottle of vodka.

"Thought I'd save you the trouble." Henry grinned knowingly

"Henry you're so thoughtful," I smiled, "Where's the Orange juice."

"Fridge." he said, "Get stuck in."

The Pastie tasted delicious and the Ale was quite nice, I don't think I managed it all before I was sick, but I tried.

They promised me a soft bed but I woke in the stable, once again the Band of the Coldstream Guards were accompanying Status Quo in concert inside my head while someone tried to let them escape using a road drill again when I woke, I had the mother and father of a headache, and I was naked again and there was sick on my bedding and I was really frustrated, why can you never get a decent fuck when you need one?

Martha came to see me, it was nearly two in the afternoon but still she tried the al Fresco enema and when she finished I tried to bring myself off with the hose, bad idea, Ouch!

"Hey stop that!" Martha insisted. "None of that till you win tomorrow."

"What!" I protested.

"You heard!" she replied, "Henry's orders." I felt again, "Stop it!" she said.

"Where's my clit ring gone?" I protested.

"Henry did it when you was asleep, solid gold see," Martha explained.

"Oh," I exclaimed, "I wish he would ask it's my damned body," I pointed out.

"He might if you hadn't been so drunk!" she suggested, "Now get a shower, have a bite to eat put your running kit on and go for a bit of a run." she said, "Go on!"

I agreed grudgingly when I saw she at least had an old coat for me to wear and I soon had a warm shower and got myself dressed, Henry was waiting for me, "You look very professional!" he said.

"Will you race me to the Pub?" I asked, "I really should do some road miles."

"No, but I'll pacemake for you in motor, if you want to follow?" he suggested.

"Yes, thanks," I agreed so we set off up the track with him in his Lexus and me running behind.

I saw a couple of girls in Pony girl tack waiting around by the stables and a pair climbing towards the moor pulling a cart with what looked like Albert in the driving seat and I followed Henry but something was wrong, was it my running kit instead of tack, or what was it, it bothered me and only when we got to the top of the track and started down towards Glossop and I could see for miles right towards Wales and what looked like the Irish Sea in the distance and suddenly it struck me, it wasn't raining, Yorkshire with no rain and dry roads, I could barely believe it.

Henry kept a steady pace and he pulled over and stopped after about ten miles or so, "Had enough?" he asked.

"Yes, I think I'd better call it a day," I agreed, and I climbed in beside him.

"Will you do evening stables for Martha," he said, as we drove back "I see you're listed as a trainer now."

"I'd rather just have a long soak in the bath and watch TV." I said and before I could say but I would he agreed.

"That lay sod Albert can do it." he said.

The evening was pleasant enough, I'm not sure Roast Beef and Yorkshire Pudding is the ideal food for marathons but it was tasty, and at least there was some half decent bottled water, and some sweet Cider to drink so I had a quick shower, had my dinner or was it supper, watched Coronation Street on TV and had a long soak in the bath and slept in a nice soft bed for once.

I couldn't sleep, so I found a spare stable stall, stripped off and had a nice sleep on the soft straw.

Albert woke me at about six a.m, I told him to sod off but he wasn't having any of it and he had me in an arm binder gagged and gave me a bloody freeing cold enema in the yard with the hose pipe before the dozy sod realised he had the wrong girl.

"You fucking imbecile," I told him, "Geez." I said as I stomped away to my bed upstairs leaving a trail of wet footprints, and no sooner had I got to sleep than Martha woke me with a nice breakfast of coffee and scrambled egg.

"Had a good night?" she asked.

I didn't have the heart to tell her.

The race was a cock up of the first rank, the organisers had to be certified morons, usually the serious runners, like me, are separated from the fun runners who can barely limp along but not here, oh no, we all started in a big mass, except some people had camped all night so as to get a good starting place, oh yes that included Sandra and her Daddy.

I had decided to forget the blonde bimbo act but luckily I took the uplift bra and too small tee shirt with me, and the three inch heels and when I arrived about an hour before the start and found I was about a hundred yards back, I was all ready in my running gear.

It didn't take long to revert to plan A, gaudy lip stick, mascara, false nails, upthrust bra, too tight tee shirt, I changed in Henry's Lexus and it worked like a charm except it was slow going and the damn gun went before I had reached the line, I did the first half mile in heels carrying my bag, but when we did the bit along the sea front and down the beach I kicked the heels off and really made up some ground, which I lost when stopped to put my trainers on, but then I threw the bag away, popped my boobies out of the upthrust bra, put my sports bra over my shirt, hoping the number remained visible and I set off after Sandra.

It was a bloody silly way to run a race, and a bloody silly place to hold one, they even had a brass band playing by one hairpin bend, and who wants to sit on a beach facing east?

Anyway gradually the opposition fizzled out, one chap, oh yes men and women raced together I told you the organisers were certified morons, this one chap just stopped and went in the local pub, I never did find out if he just stopped for a quick half pint and carried on after or what he was doing but with a mile and a bit to go I caught up with Sandra as she was just hanging on to the leading Trio.

I couldn't resist it, I undid my sports bra, let it down around my waist, hid it under the tee shirt and pulled that upthrust bra back in place and only then I overtook her.

If looks could kill! Wow was she angry, and the adrenalin kicked in and she kicked really hard, I went with her and thats when I doubted the wisdom of getting bladdered and eating roast beef as a training regime. "Come on legs don't let me down," I cried and I dug in again.

Luckily the certified, or was it a chartered moron, had arranged for the finish to be by the Novelty Rock Emporium and Municipal Public Lavatory at the cliff top, a real killer, just like Henry's track to Saddleworth Moor.

I was really wishing I hadn't messed around with my bra by now, all right I was getting the loudest cheers of anyone, even that Paula one you see on TV, but they hurt, Oh my, my poor boobies.

So that was it, across the beach, and up the steps, all two hundred and or was it three hundred.

Two at a time seemed good, then there was someone wandering around aimlessly, I barged past, and another and another, "Woman's finish on the right!" someone shouted and suddenly there it was, bloody marvellous, and it was only when I crossed the line and breasted the tape which should have broke but didn't and made the whole tatty cardboard triumphal arch fall over that I realised I had won.

The Redcar and Whitby Chronicle photographer got a great photo as the arch collapsed and sadly he also snapped me, a picture he quickly sold to the Sunday Papers, and then Harry Wallace came up to me, "I bet you think you're bloody clever!"

"Yes!" I agreed, "Considering I didn't do any proper training."

"Well I covered my bet, laid it off what do you think of that?" he said.

"Sandra can start her training on Monday, Good bye." I said in a delightfully pleasant yet hugely sarcastic manner.

Henry wasn't amused, he too had laid off the bet because he was sure I'd lose!

"Bloody hell where did that finish come from?" Henry asked.

"Pulling your damned carts of course," I explained.

"I bet you'd lose." he said.

"Yes," I agreed, "Getting bladdered is an unusual training regime, did you lose much?"

"No laid it all off." he said.

"Got yourself a Ponygirl though." I said, "Lovely action Sandra, no muscle though."

"Oh yes, I forgot, hey I got one over on bloody Wally after all," he exclaimed with a big grin,"come on lass, they do champion Fish and Chips on seafront."

It wasn't quite that simple, some chap wanted an interview to Cam corder and then there was the medal ceremony and the Mayor's speech and then eventually when a young chap returned my heels we were finally able to get to the chip shop, which in that glorious English way had shut for lunch.

We dined in the pub, we ordered a ploughman's each and sat down, the TV was on and then suddenly after the local news there was the sport and there I was, all lip gloss and blonde curls and Oh no, the interview, I cringed "All I could think of was my poor boobies were bouncing and I wanted it to stop so I ran even quicker," I had lisped not realising it was for TV, oh my god!

They spotted me, the chaps in the Pub, "Give us a flash then Darlin'" was one of the more polite suggestions, "Yeah meal's on the house if you flash your boobs."

Well it was free food so I just whipped my Tee shirt off threw the uplift bra at Henry then I pulled my sports bra back into place and took a bow.

I don't think they expected it but we still got our food for free!

"Look this training," Henry said, "I got just the thing at farm, bloke as plays Euphonium for Rattenthorpe Brass Band made us a couple."

My heart sank, more indignities, but never mind, I was sure I could cope.


Training Rose Part 6


Henry had actually come up Trumps, I had barely arrived back at the farm than he took me to the big barn behind the stables, one I had never been to before, and I saw it contained a half decent training arena.

"What do you think of this?" he asked.

It was a little black box with a strap.

"Great?" I said, wow a box with a strap wonderful.

"Ha, you haven't tried it yet," he chuckled, "strap it around your upper thigh plug in headphones and try it."

He helped me strap it on, the fact I was wearing a yellow Mini-skirt made it easier and he helped me with the headphones and said "Ok leg level," he said and as I stood on one leg he said higher higher, how's that?

"What?" I asked.

"Bugger, the battery's flat," he said, "Hang on." he fiddled and said "How's that."

Well it was awful, there was the sound of a tuba through the headphones.

"Great!" I agreed sarcastically.

"Dressage steps go on," I walked keeping my thigh exactly level for as much of each step as possible and the pitch in the headphones changed constantly, "You want concert B flat for level." he said.

"What's wrong with middle C or A 440?" I asked.

"What ever note you want, it's just that this one's set to B flat for level." he said.

I held my leg level and moved it up and down slightly, it was really easy to pick out when it was level, and that is what is so difficult in Dressage.

"Henry, you're a genius!" I said and I kissed him.

"You can practice on your own if you wants," he suggested.

"Yes, I can, can't I," I agreed.

"Or else I can have the headphones and correct you with the whip," he offered.

"Yes, on my own sounds good," I suggested.

"Spoilsport!" he laughed, "I'll leave you to it then," and he walked away.

It was really good, It gave a really clear indication of when my thighs were level, which is of course the key thing for dressage, and well Bb wasn't a bad note to visualise and I had great fun trotting around with the thing buzzing away, it was a bit lonely though, but it really was a useful gadget.

I went in after an hour or so, "That's really great Henry." I complimented him, "Can I have a few for Melton Villa."

"Sure, Two hundred and fifty pounds each all right," he said.

"Fifteen hundred for ten pairs," I offered

"Done!" he agreed and I realised I had been, done that is, but he had a living to make I supposed.

"I suppose we better get you back home?" Henry suggested, "Shall I get that Tom up here."

"No, I'd rather walk!" I suggested, "Can you take me to the station."

"Yes," he agreed, "But Georgina." Henry asked, he never called me Georgina, "How do you feel about training Sandra for me?"

"Me, what here?" I asked.

"No down your place," he suggested, "See she's tough as old boots already, her wants softening up see," he said.

"Well yes, why not." I agreed.

"Then I'll tell Harry to send her over first thing," he suggested, "She's got a car and she can drive you home."

It all sounded very good, we had a very congenial supper in Martha's kitchen, I had a lovely long soak in the bath, washed my hair and slept happily in a lovely soft bed, alone unfortunately, and then in the morning I packed and watched TV as I waited for Sandra to arrive.

She arrived at Nine thirty, I was in the yard by then and I just couldn't believe it, she drove a museum piece, a Morris Minor for heaven's sake.

Henry greeted her, "Welcome, welcome!" he said, "I thought I'd subcontract your training to Georgina here."

"What," Sandra snarled.

"Henry asked me to train you as a Pony girl," I explained, "Do you understand?"

"What here?" she asked.

"No down south, why?" I asked.

"So my friends won't be able to see me?" she said.

"I suppose not, why?" I asked.

"Because that would be great!" she actually smiled, her teeth needed whitening I decided.

"Can you drive Georgina down south?" Henry asked.

"As long as it isn't Motorway," she said.

"Of course it's bloody Motorway," I said.

"You'd better drive then," she said, "She doesn't like doing more than forty."

My heart sank, but well at least I would be in charge.

I loaded my luggage while Henry sorted Sandra out with a set of tack, he got Albert to give her an Enema and then he was going to break her in, she was bent over the bar in the Tack room when I walked in. "Henry, I think I had better take over now." I suggested.

She looked relieved, "I think she's probably gay," I told Henry but he let her up, took her gag out and let her dress in tee shirt, Levis and rubber boots.

We set off just before lunch, Henry, Albert and Martha waved goodbye as I struggled with the evil clutch and steering of the Museum piece, I think it was a 1956 model, that's older than Daddy, anyway it did more than 40 mph, but not much more, and soon it was screeching and grinding down the M1, "It's got a new engine so it needs running in," Sandra explained.

I never had so little fun, flat out in the slow lane with trucks queueing up to overtake, it was so humiliating, worse than being fucked up the backside by a load of Yorkshiremen with a box over my head, to be honest, but I just kept the accelerator jammed against the floor and prayed,until eventually we found an Articulated lorry to slipstream and that's how we went down south.

Daddy nearly had hysterics when I drove into the drive, "Haha," he chortled, as I drew up by him and wound the window down, "That's one way to slow you down."

"It still goes faster than Tom does," I retorted, "But here's Sandra." I pointed to the passengers seat, "Henry wants me to train her."

Sandra was captivated, Daddy has that effect on people."Sandra, meet Daddy!" I suggested.

She just stared like a love struck puppy.

"Oh hell, I'll take her to her room, " I suggested and I drove round to Melton Villa.

I knew there would be trouble, I was sure Miss Farque would have assumed the role of Daddy's latest girlfriend and would be devastated to be set aside but of course I was wrong.

Sonia, Miss Farque was sitting in the Ponygirl's lounge wearing her street clothes a blue midi length dress when Sarah and I walked in, "Sonia, this is Sarah Wallace, I am going to train her," I explained.

"You lucky girl," Sonia exclaimed, "I've had the father and Rose's frustrated boyfriend training me for the last week and if I never have another threesome it wont be too soon."

"Sonia please some decorum!" Daddy said but the truth of it was written all over his face. "Now Sarah have you been broken in yet?"

"No sir," Sarah simpered like a schoolgirl.

"Then I think I have a clear duty." Daddy decided.

"Oh no you don't" I exclaimed but I might just as well have talked to a brick wall.

Sarah simply followed Daddy from the lounge to the Tack-room.

"Over the counter if you don't mind," Daddy suggested and she just bent over the counter with barely a murmur, "And you Georgina, Tom will be here any moment now!"

"Oh look no way!" I exclaimed, "If you think I'm going to,"

"Counter Georgina, come along," Daddy insisted, "I want Sarah to see that you can obey orders as well as give orders."

"Oh, I suppose so," I agreed as I pulled my skirt up and panties down and bent over the counter.

Tom still hadn't arrived when I heard the rustle of Daddy pulling Sarah's shorts and panties down and I saw her grimace and then relax as he entered her.

"Georgina!" Tom wailed as he came in the door, I looked round at him as I waited bum in the air expecting him to ravish me but oh no, this was Tom, so what did he do, he grabbed me, lifted me in a fireman's lift pulled my panties up and kissed me full on the lips, "Oh I've missed you, have you eaten?"

I despaired, what sort of man turns down an open invitation to ask if I've eaten.

"No actually, I fancied a fuck first," I said.

"Quite so, have a quick shower and then we'll meet by the lake at half past," he said.

He really was impossible.

"I said." I said.

"By the lake, make it special," he said, "Please."

So he put me down, lord knows what poor Sandra thought, she probably didn't notice the way Daddy was going at her, a cross between a Yorkshire terrier and a Teenager, I really worried that he would have a heart attack, but that was Daddy's way.

I stayed and watched for a moment, Miss Farque joined me, "He is so energetic, he makes me sore." she said.

"I'm not surprised judging by that!" I exclaimed, "Oh well I'll sort Tom out."

I didn't have a shower, I took a towel and my old swimming schnorkle an went to the lake, Tom was nowhere to be seen so I hid my clothes by a tree and dived in the lake, it was absolutely bloody freezing, but I swam to the Island and found a place to watch from.

Tom came down the path in a cart pulled by Lynva and another Pony-girl I didn't know and he started to unload a hamper and champagne bucket to surprise me with and he laid it all out on a rug beside the lake.

I felt awful, he was going to so much trouble, like he really cared or something, and then he sat down and sent the girls away and waited.

I didn't have time to get dressed so I swam elegantly towards him and then waded through the mud and slime to emerge more like the monster from the lagoon than anything elegant.

"Sorry," I said, "I think I've spoiled it."

"Georgina, you're the most amazing girl I've ever known," he simpered stating the obvious, here it comes will you do me the honour I thought, "Will you marry me?" he asked.

"What?" I queried.

"Marry me." he said.

"No, not until you start being more fun!" I explained.

"But I got the ring on Ebay, I can't take it back!" he explained as he held this diamond engagement ring out for me to see.

"Oh well in that case Yes!" I said, "We can't waste a good ring can we!" of course the damned thing wouldn't fit anywhere except my little finger.

"Oh Georgina" he said hugging me close which meant he got pond slime all over his suit, "Let's make love on the Island," he said and he dived in fully clothed, which wasn't very bright as the water was barely six inches deep with two feet of slime and mud beneath it.

Eventually we got to the Island, wet muddy bedraggled, cold, and feeling pretty stupid, but he undressed and kissed me and I felt warmer, and I kissed him and well soon things were pretty hot and all the frustrations of the last few days needed to be swept away and he started to soothe them with his fingers and finally with seven inches or so of solid muscle.

"Tom," I asked, "Why didn't you just fuck me an hour ago?"

"Foreplay is very important." he said.

"Tom, next time just fuck me, ok?" I insisted.

"Ok you're the boss." he said and I just knew I was going to love being married.

But first there was Cannes, arguably the worlds most prestigious Pony Girl show although maybe the world series in Las Vegas pays better and I didn't know half the rules which was one huge problem,as they were different to regional UK rules in many respects, especially the tie breaks, and oh boy did they enjoy tie breaks, but they do say I'm resourceful and determined, actually they're more likely to call me a ruthless bitch, but that's just sour grapes.

I don't cheat you understand, but there's no point in not stretching the rules to the limit is there? so as soon as I could get rid of Tom on the pretext that Sonia needed him I got stuck into the rule book

Cannes has the usual Dressage and Jump sections but the cross country has a short swim and an awkward rocky landing, which is no fun tacked up, but it gave me an idea, and the Jumps are really awkward, luckily the complete course is shown in the rule book so we could replicate it at home, but really I was up against girls who dedicated every waking hour to Pony- play.

The type of stalls were also laid down in the rule book, and they were gross, yuck, no better than stables, but I was sure that the rules didn't actually say I had to use them, they specified everything else, and well there were all sorts of little wrinkles I could exploit, or so I thought, so I planned my strategy accordingly.

We went to France by Eurostar train and arrived on the Riviera around eight thirty in the evening, I took Tom to see the cross country course in the faint moonlight of evening.

"Why don't I use schnorkel?" I asked as we got to the swim section.

"Because it's borderline illegal and," he said

"And what?" I asked irritably.

"It's barely deep enough," he explained, "I'll show you."

Now skinny dipping is alright but do you know he had his swimming trunks on under his trousers, what a twit, and he peeled down to his trunks and waded in.

The water barely reached his neck even when he went the long way around to avoid the rocks and land on the beach.

"See. it will barely reach your chin," he pointed out and I knew then I was in with a good chance.

I walked back with him as he shivered in the cool night air, he remembered his trunks, and forgot the towel.

"Georgina," he shivered, "The tie break."

"Yes," I agreed, "What about it?"

"You can't possibly win on a tie break." he said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"The panel will judge you on remaining still and keeping an even facial expression." he pointed out the obvious.

"Yes," I agreed.

"While you stand at a bar and a designated person tries to have anal sex with you." he stated.

"I know, I'll just have to pull out a big lead." I explained.

"No, they like tie breaks, but Georgina how about." and he whispered his plan to me, I'm afraid I thought it was hilarious.

"Is it legal?" I asked.

"Oh y'yes I read the rule book s'several times," he insisted through chattering teeth.

"Then I'll do it!" I agreed.

My plan was to spend the nights in an Hotel not in the disgusting stalls but somehow Daddy and Tom conspired and on the pretext of making sure my tack was perfect they had me get tacked up and as soon as they had my hands trapped they gagged me and dragged me down to the stables where they led me in and incarcerated me in a stall. Oh boy was I angry and of course I always perform best when I'm angry so I suppose they did the right thing.

I missed all the pre event parties, maybe that was a good thing, and really the first I saw of the event is when they changed my tack for highly polished competition version and led me from my stall along a maze of corridors and along through various marquees and finally out of the tunnel into the arena.

I think it was a railway station once, the Arena, it had this immense Victorian roof, rather like the old part of Temple Meads station at Bristol, and under it was this huge arena, I think it normally had a cycle or an athletics track around it and seats for literally thousands of people, certainly there was ample room for both Dressage and Jumps courses to be set up at the same time as well as an elaborate podium for the winners and of course a raised Tie-break platform.

Even that first morning for the heats where they whittled down the field to the best forty or so there were hundreds of people present and we were expected to be pleasant and placid like nice little ponies, well I'll tell you when I'm angry I kick like a mule, "Ah monsieur Melton," a swarthy little pompous frenchman exclaimed, as he stroked my hair and stuck two fingers in my vagina "What a beautiful pony,"

I tolerated it for ages, three, four maybe even five seconds before I kicked the swarthy little sod.
"Kicks like a mule," Daddy laughed, "Best to stroke her clitoris first old boy," he said as the Frenchman ran through his entire vocabulary of curses as he hopped on one leg and clutched his ankle.

"Bloody French never heard of foreplay," Daddy suggested to no one in particular.

I sulked, boring Frenchmen and women poking me, the women were worst their nails were terrible, huge and cracked and jagged, and I didn't know who slept with which judge so I just had to pretend to like it when they prodded and felt and fingered, and not just my vagina, thank god Tom had given me a early enema before all the hot water was used up.

The first event was as always dressage, I hate dressage, walking round dead upright with ones thighs exactly level is not my idea of fun, but perhaps I should explain about the sounders you see the tack required was an arm clincher behind my back, knee length, heel-less hoof boots, corset to thrust my breasts up with a wide waist belt, and a skeleton bridle and leather skull cap with my hair led through as a pony tail, a padded ball-gag bit and the obligatory ostrich plumes added to the equine look as did the reins, but in addition I wore the garters which housed the sounder sensors, which we were sure were permitted under section 115 /3/iii of the rules, Decorative Garter(s) may also be worn..

It was Toms plan for me to wear the garters but without the sounder system I used to make sure my legs were level, because Tom thought if I had a lead the French dominated judges could use the "Illegal Sounder system," which was actually legal as a way to dock me some points, so I wore the garters and Tom told everyone I was using the sounder system, and I think that's why I did so well, joint second, I think the judges thought I was cheating so they didn't deduct many points because obviously my legs were level if I used the system but they could rely on getting me disqualified or dock me some points at a later stage.

Dressage ran three heats with the top fifteen from each of two heats going through and then a third heat for those inn the top thirty who didn't get through in the first two heats from which the top ten went through. That took all morning, I won the first heat and then sat around for ever and got cold and stiff so I ended up joint second in the final with "Argonought's Daughter,"while "Resenbalm," took the win and then after a meal served in buckets which was absolutely disgusting even by French standards we had the jumps, again three heats and a final

I was calmer by then and came third, both in my heat and the final and and then it was back to the stables for me until the cross country.

The course was about ten miles, mostly around the Arena, along the disused railway line towards the town of Cannes but with a big inland loop followed by the descent beside the stream to the secluded private bay and private beach followed by the short swim and the steep climb to the finishing line which was a quarter mile of so from the Arena, but we had to wear cloaks from the line to the Arena because that was along public roads.

Tom's plan worked like a charm, I ran well within my capabilities and I was in fifth place coming down the rocky path to the secluded beach and going into the sea I was fifty yards or so behind the leader and coming out on the beach instead of the rocks I had a twenty yard lead simply because I went really wide and deep and went the whole way on soft sand with water up to my chin while some waded waist deep and had to pick their way over the rocks, and others went wide but swam and when I left the water it was just a final sprint for the line.

Sprint, you try sprinting in waterlogged leather hoof boots with a horse shoe on the bottom, it was more like a half hearted jog but it was the same for everyone and I was still twenty yards clear when I breasted the tape, I would have raised my arms in celebration if I could, but actually I felt awful as my tack was soaked with salt water and it itched abominably.

Tom quickly slipped the cloak around me and we made our way back to the arena building to wait for the provisional results, which I knew would put me in the lead overall.

I sat around itching for ages until an official presented Tom with provisional result which put me first with twenty five points for the CC, seventeen and a half for the joint second Dressage and fifteen for 3rd in the jumps total fifty seven and a half, while "Caro Mio" had twenty five for the Jumps, ten for the Dressage, (4th) and twenty for the CC (2nd) "Resenbalm," had the Dressage win twenty five, ten for 4th in the jumps and fifteen for 3rd in the CC also fifty while "Argonought's Daughter," aka Sandra Rogers, was fourth with seventeen and a half for dressage twenty for jumps and ten (4th) for CC total forty seven and a half.

"That's provisional," Tom reminded me unnecessarily so he took me to the stewards area for final checking to ensure we complied with the regulations in every way.

Tie breaks were the highlight of the event and scores were manipulated to make sure two or three tied for points every year and so after keeping me hanging about in salt encrusted damp tack for over half an hour together with much prodding and poking the Stewards announced they were docking me seven and a half points for using a device outside the spirit of the rules, specifically the sounder, thus reducing my score to fifty and creating a three way tie.

Tom lodged an immediate appeal on my behalf, which caused consternation.

"We did not use the equipment for the competition," Tom explained, "She only uses the equipment for training, Indeed your own official photographs clearly show there were no senders in Rose's garters." and he had a set of their photographs with him in his holdall.

The judges were outraged, but could not find anything to contradict Toms explanation especially when they asked me about the system.

"Where do you keep the battery," they asked, after releasing my gag.

"In my special tail," I said, well I couldn't say up my bum could I?, "You can see the wires when I wear it," I explained, "It runs over my thigh and spoils the line so I can't use it for competitions."

M. Gauchmont, chief steward was not pleased, I thought he was going to hit me but after a few minutes heated argument he had to admit our appeal had been upheld and thus I was the winner with fifty seven points, but then M. Gauchmont and the other stewards huddled in their office in intense annoyance and in their inscrutable Gallic way they docked Caro and Resembalm two and a half points each for some imagined infringement and set up a Tie break between them and "Argonaught's Daughter" for second and third places and announced a Tie break would be held at seven o'clock.

Surprise surprise.

Every year they managed to stage manage a tie break through some imagined rule infringement or other so two or better still three girls had to endure a tie break, standing immobile as a well endowed ACC, which translates as Cannes Pony Club, official has anal sex with the girls, any change of posture or facial expression loses marks right up until the man's final releases and pulls out of the girl, three pony girls sodomised before a crowd of getting on for fifteen hundred paying enthusiasts each of whom had paid two thousand dollars for the privilege, not to mention journalists from Pony Girl Monthly and the French and German publications, trainers grooms and other Pony Girls who filled the lower places.

Tom had brought my things and had released my arm clincher and so I sneaked away and had a shower and changed from my tack into my white gown with sequins, the one that sparkles in the light, with Granny's old pearl necklace and Mummy's pony brooch and a little fake fur jacket set off by sheer white stockings held up with good old fashioned suspenders and a little wonderbra to make the most of what I had, oh and of course impossible heels, rather like pony boots but cut away and in dazzling silver, I think I was just about dressed to kill..

My hair wasn't even wet or salt encrusted like the others, and I felt like a million dollars as I sneaked back into the arena..

"You cannot receive your medal like that," pompous M.Gauchmont stated, as he saw me re enter the arena, and wave to the crowd. "You must wear the regulation uniform." he insisted,

"And where pray does that appear in the regulations?" Tom asked as he came across and placed a protective arm around my waist, of course it didn't mention it in the regs.

"Is common sense," Gauchmont replied.

"Not to me," I piped up, "It says absolutely nothing I checked and neither," I poked a finger in Toms ribs, "Does it say I must use that horrible stable before the event."

"But it is tradition!" Gauchmont continued, but he had to go, It was 7 p.m. and the equipment for the tie break had been assembled, and the girls were ready and the waiting to draw lots for the men, the three swarthy Mediterranean coast Frenchmen, chosen quickly from among a queue of volunteers and almost identical in every respect, dressed neatly in blue blazers and red cravats and except for their boots, naked from the waist down.

"Medames et messieurs, Ladies and Gentlemen," M.Gauchmont announced, "After the last event and careful checks by the rules committee," which always produced a ripple of laughter, "We have a tie of the points for." he paused theatrically, "Second place."

There was an audible gasp, "Oui, Melton Stud Rose, with fifty seven and a half points is our winner but with forty seven and a half points each we have Caro Mio and Resembalm and Argonaught's Daughter.

Not that it mattered, three fit Pony girls still sweaty and salty from the cross country were led onto the stage where there were three identical whipping rails for want of better description, but the girls were merely to use the rails to brace themselves as the men forced themselves on the them, points being deducted for any change of expression, the ideal being total indifference, personally I would rather come fourth than get my bottom prodded in public by a swarthy little Frenchman but that not a popular opinion around Cannes.

For while I as a competitor thought that, it was obvious from the packed seating around the arena that I was if not alone in my thoughts then very much in the minority.

Of course the three Caro Mio, Argonaughts Daughter and Resembalm had spent every possible second practising with their trainers since the Tie break had become inevitable, live practice with the trainers well lubricated penis and toy practice with the largest butt plug they could find oh and all in full public view in "Parc Ferme" conditions in the holding pen in the arena.

Poor Argonaught, I didn't know her personally but with her father or so I thought screaming at her she made it very plain she didn't want a 45mm tail butt plug in her rectum, I laughed when one of her wild kicks finally made contact with his crotch, and he fell back clutching at his manhood, but Resenbalm took her trainers live warm but smaller appendage with hardly a ripple of interest across her face, I felt bad, she would have been champion if we hadn't pulled the pretending to cheat scam, but then that's what life is about isn't it? pushing the boundaries.

At exactly Seven o'clock the tie break started. Argonaught lost five points instantly with a well aimed kick which took the wind out of the Frenchman's sails and very nearly took his penis off as well, but it was her twisted smile of satisfaction which did the damage to her score while Caro and Resenbalm just braced and stood still their faces showing about as much enthusiasm as for a Monday morning lecture on Molluscs.

Argonaught's man finally forced himself up her at about ten past seven by which time the other two had worn out their first swarthy Frenchmen and reserves had to be sent for, it was all getting rather farcical, so I went on a meet and greet, "Hello, I'm Rose this years supreme champion," I said which was a bit different to the "Mmppphhh," nods and foot stamps they were used to from champions.

"I'm Lucy Rosenbalm, I was Ice maiden, I won in 1985," a well preserved middle aged blonde lady explained, as we shook hands, "Are you a model?" she asked.

"Lord no student," I said, "I'm a trainer really, I just wanted to get some experience!"

"You're not interested in modelling then," she asked.

"Maybe," I agreed and moved on, there were a surprising number of former winners and competitors, and of course owners and a considerable number of enthusiasts or perverts as we called them.

"Oh my lord will you look at that," the Countess of somewhere or other exclaimed as I shook her hand, I turned in time to see Caro blow her chances in a graphic display of orgasmic bliss, which incidentally earned her a million dollar porn film contract, and then Resenbalm got the same bug while Argonaught's daughter gazed impassively as her wounded Frenchman did his worst with a less than fully hard penis thrust up her bum.

Of course the proceedings then entered the farcical stage as I was nowhere near the stage when M Gauchmont declared a result, usually the tie break is for first, second and third, so I had to scramble to the Podium which I refused to do, and they had to find some me some steps, and I was not popular as dinner time approached.

So it was Resenbalm third, she climbed the lowest step of the podium. M Gauchmont put the sash round her neck, M. LeJeune handed her trainer the cup and in true Gallic style M.Gauchmont slipped two fingers into her hot wet vagina making her gasp as the flash bulbs exploded in a barrage of bluish white light.

"In Second place Argonaught's daughter!" M.Gauchmont intoned through the archaic PA system and the place erupted with wild applause, as apparently they thought she was really the true winner because I cheated, but she came fourth on initial points, couldn't the people count?
She also got a sash and a feel from M.Gauchmont, and her trainer got a cup, and then it was my turn, I think about ten people clapped as I climbed to the podium.

"And the winner of the Grand Prix de Cannes," M.Gauchmont announced. "English Rose" the bastard never even got my name right. I ducked for him to put the sash round my neck and nearly avoided his hand as he pushed my knickers aside to feel me, but of course my hands were free so I slapped him, hard, and then as M. LeJeune handed the big cup to Tom I grabbed it and held it above my head as I did a podium jump.

That got the camera's flashing, a good job as the podium collapsed as I landed which was a bit unfortunate but the photo's of me all excited, well faking excitement to be honest, but me jumping, with the cup and the sash fully dressed in my lovely sparkly dress well it was a wonderful image, no nudity, just pure unadulterated glamour something the sport could use to attract mainstream sponsorship even.

The Dinner was exquisite, I sat by M.Gauchmont, traditionally the winner had remained tacked up but for her bit and with her arms free for dinner but I wore my sparkly dress and ate one handed whilst M.Gauchmont tried to pretend my hand wasn't down his trousers as I gently masturbated him to at least two orgasms before we finished the main course.

There was of course the obligatory speech from M. Gauchmont which I'm told lasted ten minutes, I would have believe three hours, and then unscheduled I grabbed the micro phone and made my speech, "Medammes et Monsieurs, Ladies and Gentlemen," I started and I thanked everyone from Mrs Grimes who lent me her name, through Henry Bryant, Phil the Euphonium player for Rattenthorpe Brass Band who made the sounder, Daddy and Mummy of course and Tom my fiancee.

"And finally I would like to announce my retirement from pony play competitions as a pony-girl, as I wish to concentrate on a career as a trainer."
"But Mam'selle," M.Gauchmont cried, "Your entry for Las Vegas, for the world series, you have an automatic entry as winner at Cannes, you cannot let us down, the honour of France, I mean of Cannes is at stake!"

"And about half a million quid for the winner," Tom whispered.

"I meant from Cannes, of course I'll do Vegas," I said with a sinking heart, god Frenchmen were bad enough what on earth would the yanks be like?

Training Rose part 7

"What on earth did you want to go and do that for!" Daddy demanded as I stepped down from the podium, or what was left of it after it collapsed when I did my victory jump, to a faint ripple of polite applause with my Cannes grand prix winners gold medal around my neck.

I had just won arguably the worlds most prestigious pony-girl event the Cannes Grand Prix outright and yet still he still found cause to criticised me, he really was impossible.

It was bad enough that the third place girl got a bigger cheer than me, well everybody got a bigger cheer than me, to be honest, and no one really seemed to want to have anything to do with me after I changed from my pony-girl uniform of leather bridle, gag, arm clincher and straps, which showed my boobies and sex to perfection and instead changed into my lovely sparkly posh white frock which cost me a small fortune.

"Daddy!" I exclaimed, "Mummy, what are you doing here?" I gasped, there they were standing together, being civil to one another, it seemed unreal.

"Keeping an eye on you," Daddy explained, "What on earth possessed you," he asked, "For heavens sake Georgina, winning, whatever next?"

The flippant answer was the "World Series" at Dreamland near Las Vegas USA, but well better not to rub salt into the wound.

"It was my fault sir!" Tom Warrinder my boyfriend and trainer piped up.

"Don't be absurd!" Mummy exclaimed, "This has Georgina stamped all over it, nobody, nobody at all can begin to match my daughter for deviousness!" she ranted, "And your entry is fraudulent, you're not a proper pony-girl you're a trainer for heavens sake!"

"Mummy just because I won and you never quite managed it." I sniped.

"Oh you're impossible," Mummy gasped, "You know what this means don't you?"

"What?" I said as I became increasingly exasperated.

"I had a bet with your mother." Daddy chuckled, "I bet her a diamond that you would win."

"Right? and if I lost?" I asked.

"No Georgina, it's what I agreed if you won," Mummy said, "If you lost I got a diamond, thirty thousand pounds worth , if you won, dear do you see?"

"Yes, what!" I demanded.

"He gets me!" she said dejectedly, "Oh yes, I agreed, a sure bet."

"Mummy, you win both ways!" I said naively.

"Oh you have a lot to learn, Georgina!" Mummy explained, "He said like the old days the party, do you see."

"Oh Mummy!" I chuckled, "Did he say tacked up!"

"It's not funny!" she snapped.

"Oh but it is, it's priceless!" I chuckled, "Absolutely priceless!" I thought, "Daddy, can I lead her in?"

"No," Mummy insisted which rather made up my mind that I would indeed lead her in.

I imagined the scene, I had to I hadn't been allowed in before because I hadn't been eighteen the previous year so I couldn't go, but I knew that leading to the ballroom there was this magnificent marble staircase and two galleries one above the other with tables raised up above the level of the dance floor along both sides of the floor with a stage at the far end for an orchestra, all presented in gleaming Marble in the Italianate style.

The trouble was do you see I didn't really fit the bill, they wanted a nice compliant, soft, hopefully rather dim but beautiful submissive, and to be honest I wasn't any of those, although Tom often told me I was beautiful, so maybe one out of four?

"Georgina, really I should lead you in." Tom insisted.

"Nowhere in the rules does it say that!" I reminded him, "You escort me, you in Tuxedo and me in a nice stylish gown," I explained, "No tack, no leading in, no sex with half the judges. No." I said very firmly, "No!"

"Just for the first half hour," Daddy suggested, "Then you can change."

"Yes Georgina, please," Tom asked.

"I'd appreciate the moral support," Mummy suggested, "You and me, and that Monsieur Gauchmont is rather dishy."

I nearly threw up at the thought of Gauchmont but decided I couldn't let Tom down.

They wore me down, and so instead of my ball gown there I was being tacked up, oh yes, arms secured firmly in a brand new Fosdyke and Earl black leather clincher, a shiny new black leather corset pushed my boobies up, my blonde hair flowed like a mane through the ring at the back of my brand new bridle, my new boots clopped in the approved manner and just to be sure I insisted on a crotch belt, pulled tight into my pussy, to stop anyone with wandering penis trouble from penetrating me uninvited.

Mr Rathbone of Fosdyke and Earl had personally fitted me with the new tack, my own tack had been cleaned so often their Logos had worn off so when they offered a complete new deluxe personally tailored set if I'd wear it to pose for photos at the ball, well I couldn't resist could I? It was worth thousands and personally tailored, no messing with adjusters for a perfect fit, well, what's a girl supposed to do?

I found out later Daddy set the whole deal up and he got a second set of standard tack for Mummy and a thousand pounds worth of horse riding boots for himself out of the deal as long as he could guarantee some first rate photographs of me with the winner medal and with the Fosdyke and Earl logos prominently displayed..

So there we were Mummy and I, in a bedroom set aside in the Hotel as a changing room getting tacked up with Daddy and Tom's help ready for them to lead us out.

I was comforted by the crotch belt, although it did rather irritate where it rubbed my clit, especially as I walked and particularly as Tom led me and I stepped carefully down the long staircase to the floor of the ballroom.

"And our Champion English Rose," Mr Gauchmont bellowed my nom de competition, "Rose Giles! Medammes et Monsieurs."

A tired ripple of applause changed to a rapturous reception as guests realised I was actually tacked up and essentially naked and not hidden in a ball gown as I stepped carefully down the stairs into the ball room. It was great wearing the combined bit and gag I decided, it meant I didn't need to make small talk with pompous boring Frenchmen.

"And our three medallists" M.Gauchmont announced "Please a round of applause,"

A handrail had been erected at the edge of the stage in front of the top table, a waist height handrail, presumably for us to bend over and I just knew I had been conned again, but there isn't an awful lot one can do while tacked up, a swift kick in the testicles being probably the most effective but Tom was keeping well out of the way and Daddy was very sensibly keeping even further away.

"And Ladies and Gentlemen, we have Caro Mio our fourth placed pony," M.Gauchmont's voice boomed through the loudspeskers as he did his compere thing, "Bronze medallist Resenbalm, and Silver medallist Argonaught's Daughter," he said in his heavily accented French.

"And Medammes et Monsieurs, nous avez, ah we have the Coup de Cannes, the special directors prize," he continued, my heart sank, oh my god, "Pour la," he said, "The best orgasnischer display, open to any pony dressed in la uniform de CPC."

They planned it, Resenbalm, Cario Mio, and Argonaught's daughter, would have a play off for a big prize, except I had turned up as well.

"Any pony in CPC approved tack?" A familiar voice asked, Daddy, Daddy was asking and Mummy was tacked up, although he had just pushed her head down to keep her hidden.

"Mais oui!" M.Gauchmont agreed, "Mam'selle Rose will not take part is that correct." He asked.

"Oh no," Daddy exclaimed, "Melton Stud will enter English Rose and," he paused, "Melton Stud Lady!"

Mummy tried very hard to kick Daddy in the testicles, very very hard, but he was a wily customer and he had her measure although she did kick several Frenchmen and an elegant French woman in a stunning red gown who promptly kicked her back.

There must have been fifteen hundred people watching either sitting at tables raised above the dance floor, or on the chairs around the periphery, or simply standing on the dance floor watching as Tom led me to the raised platform and undid my crotch strap, he took me to the left of the three waiting pony girls, while Daddy dragged a far from willing Mummy to the right and wrapped her reins around the rail in the same way Tom secured mine.

Tom stepped neatly out of his trousers, folded them neatly, then he stepped from his Y fronts folded them neatly and placed the Y fronts in his trouser pocket and hung the trousers neatly over the rail, he really was exasperating, what's wrong with showing some enthusiasm and just leaving them on the floor? Oh yes, he folded his socks and put them in his shoes, but at least he took his socks off unlike M. Heinkel, or was it Herr Heinkel, Resenbalm's trainer who kept his socks on.

"En Garde!" M.Gauchmont "ordered, "Et Un, Deux, Tois Commencer!"

I felt Tom's hands at my breasts, his breath on my neck and I braced as I leaned over the rail provided, "Good Pony!" he whispered, "Now don't cum too soon," he had the nerve to say, "I love you Rose," he said stating the obvious and getting my name wrong in one short pointless statement, but I had a nice warm moist feeling and my nipples tingled pleasantly enough and there was this void that needed filling so I made myself a bit more comfortable, and sure enough Tom eased his cock between my moist lower lips and filled the void nicely and oh did his nice warm muscular cock feel good, I almost regretted missing the tie break.

I looked around the ballroom, its two tiers of viewing galleries with tables, one above the other, I looked at the spectators who were watching me and the other girls, Resenbalm, Caro Mio, Argo, and beyond my Mummy, "Lady," but there was nothing Lady-like about Mummy, Daddy was riding her like she was in the two fifteen at Kempton Park, poor Mummy, she would be forty next birthday, competing with girls half her age, she was sweating already, out of condition I decided.

"Rose, stop gawping." Tom ordered, as three thousand eyeballs homed in on Mummy "Haven't you seen your parents fucking before?"

No of course I bloody haven't, I thought but what could I say with the bit gag in my mouth?
I gave Tom a little squeeze to reassure him as a photographer moved in for some close ups and hopefully some cum shots and then suddenly there was such a commotion, gasping grunting, "Oh Georgina I love you so much," Tom gasped and suddenly ages before I was ready, he started to twitch and throb and then he was flooding me with his hot wet cum.

"Ohhhhhh Georgina, Georgie I looovvvveee you." he wailed, and then he just flopped down on my back leaving me rather frustrated and uncomfortable as he pinned me down against the hand rail as his penis shrank and his cum oozed out of him.

Daddy by contrast kept bobbing away at Mummy for another quarter of an hour, people were getting bored and Tom suggested to M.Gauchmont they should get the band to play "God save the King," as he always stood to attention for that.

"He is already at attention!" M.Gauchmont replied with that typical gallic stupidity that passed for wit.

Finally Daddy came, Mummy appeared to have at least three orgasms before Daddy spurted but I was sure they were just showing off.

Gauchmont had two cronies to help him judge the performance, Marcel Rouen and Gaston Saleine so when Daddy finished we waited for the decision, rather uncomfortably in my case as Tom's spunk oozed down my inner thigh towards my lovey brand new boots.

They announced the winners with a drum role, "For the best Orgasm our winner is," Gauchmont announced and paused while the drums rattled in a crescendo of pointless rattling, "Thomas Warrinder!"

There was a huge roar of laughter, the whole point of the competition was that a girl was supposed to win but there was no doubting that he really had put on the best display much to Daddy's annoyance.

Tom actually went to get his prize without putting his trousers back on, how embarrassing!

"And the judges special prize goes to," he paused, "Melton Lady!" the crowd provided ripple of applause but by now they just wanted the band to start so they could get drunk and dance without any worries.

I looked at Mummy as Daddy untied her and took her to get her prize, she looked absolutely livid, but I really don't know who was more cross, Mummy at winning or Daddy at Tom winning, or perhaps Daddy at losing or maybe Caro, Resenbalm or Argo, or their riders, in any case they left us tied up, at least until Tom came back with his prize, "Look Georgie," he said, "I won something."

It was almost a relief when a swarthy Frenchman started to grope me, "Excuse Moi." Tom said and decked him with a very neat upper cut to the jaw using his left hand, "Unfinished business."

This time it was long and slow and loving as he slid inside me but we stopped the band from setting up because we were in the way, but it was very satisfying and when M.Rouen asked, "Will you bugger off please?" in his best English we obliged him and Tom took me for a bath.

Daddy and Mummy were standing by the steps as we came back down, I had my red ball gown on, the one that goes over the left shoulder not the right and keeps losing it's shape and letting my boobies pop out, Daddy was making the most of Mummy he had her tied to the handrail at the bottom of the staircase and was selling access to her for five hundred Euros a time, and of course when I challenged him my left boobie popped out.

"Daddy," I pleaded, "Please!" I said as I tried to get my boobie back in and keep it in and then I noticed this stupid grin on Mummy's face, and the state of her straining nipples and the wetness glistening around her vagina, "Oh my lord she loves it doesn't she?" I exclaimed.

"Yes," Daddy agreed, "Anyway, it's easy money."

Mummy tried to glower at me but she had this slightly dreamy look of someone who has had too much sex and still wants more, and I had to admit she did look very fit for her age, even if it was nineteen years since she retired from competitions, so clearly swimming, jogging, sun bathing, drinking Campari and being screwed by relays of Spaniards and Frenchmen was a good keep fit regime for a total slut.

It was what attracted Daddy to her in the first place, her father had all the trappings of wealth, but without the wealth, and allegedly for a bet Daddy he had somewhat reluctantly invited the young apparently virginal ice maiden Silvia Montcrieff to a hunt ball one evening, while the equally reluctant Mummy had been ordered to go by her own desperately cash strapped mother who saw Daddy as a cash cow if Mummy could get pregnant.

So Daddy plied her with drink to get her in the mood, and she tried to stay sober so she could seduce him and somehow next morning they found themselves waking in a deserted barn fully clothed and frustrated. Apparently a search party found them around six next evening, having spent the greater part of the day screwing.

Of course they had to get married but Daddy couldn't handle the pace of sex seven or eight times a day, and Mummy just wanted more so when I was three, just after Daddy's Daddy died and left Daddy his estate, and debts, they went their separate ways, Mummy to the Riviera with the cash from selling Daddy's London home, and Daddy went to Melton Villa with Ella my nanny and her DD cup brassiere, and me.

I mixed I mingled, "What do you want to do now?" a bored looking swarthy balding Englishman asked,

"Well, I have a Cannes Grand prix medal," I said, "I'd love a Monaco grand Prix winners garland to go with it."

"There is no Ponygirl Grand Prix at Monaco any more," he said.

"Formula one silly," I explained, "My instructor said he never saw anyone brave enough to try the complex flat in fifth at Silverstone except me."

"What happened?" he asked.

"Barrel rolled three times, the tyres weren't up to temperature," I explained, "I'm going to have another go when he gets out of hospital."

"Oh no don't get involved with Georgina's motor cars," Daddy said, "She starts off flat out and finds her limits by crashing, the Lambourgini dealership banned her after she blew up a Murchilago on a test drive bouncing off the rev limiter for ten miles at two hundred miles an hour while complaining the limiter was set too low, she bent all the valves, it was valve bounce it didn't have a limiter."

"Daddy" I complained, "You're embarrassing me!"

"Oh well, we don't have any opening's at present, perhaps when Jenson retires," the balding swarthy Englishman explained as he escaped my clutches.

"Don't you dare drive for Ferrrari," Daddy said, "I'll disown you."

"Stop criticising my driving, I'm just unlucky," I explained, "Anyway you should be pimping Mummy out or whatever you call it."

"Tom's doing that, put your breast away Georgie, everyones looking," Daddy ordered.

"It just pops back out, I might just as well leave it out," I explained.

I had a really good time, several people mentioned modelling and I talked to a guy about Aerobatics which sounded like fun until he said he wanted me to do wing walking for him, well stuff that, and then it was back to our own hotel where Tom fell into an exhausted sleep while I wished I had brought some spare batteries for my vibrator!

Daddy was nowhere to be seen at breakfast so I went to find him, "Daddy," I called when I found his door locked and a Do Not Disturb sign hung on the door knob, "Are you in there?"

"Just," gasp "A minute," gasp "Georgina," he replied.

"Daddy, do you have a woman in there?" I asked.

"Well he's hardly turned gay has he?" Mummy answered.

"Daddy are you screwing Mummy," I asked incredulously but he was, he opened the door a few minutes later and there was poor Mummy, still tacked up except her bridle and bit.

"Sorry Pumplin something came up." he apologised.

"Mummy," I protested, as she lay there essentially helpless with her arms bound.

"Yes dear, your father has gone all romantic I fear, he spoon fed me cornflakes and strawberries for breakfast, and then announced I still owed him six hours of Pony play, I won't be able to walk when he's finished." she said but she was blushing and trying not to smile.

"Oh well, enjoy yourselves, Can I borrow the Bentley?"

"No, categorically not," Daddy insisted.

"But tomorrow is registration day at Uni!" I pleaded.

"Hire something, something slow," he suggested knowing even among companies who hired to under 25s I was blacklisted just because a Fiat 500 engine blew up when I was driving it.

"I'll drive," he said, "After Lunch." but he didn't, because after lunch he announced "I think I'll stay on a day or two Pumpkin, now you be careful with the car."

I was very very careful, although Tom said "Slow down, Georgina," about once every twenty seconds, and he even put his hands over his eyes when I had to use the hard shoulder to overtake some slow moving trucks, "Your doing 160," he said several times as if he couldn't believe it.

"That's kilometres, about seventy five really," I lied and the poor love believed me, I nearly got 200 down a bit of a slope but some fool in a Ferrari got in the way, and Tom went on and on about fuel mileage and how we would go further in less time if we went slower and didn't stop so often, an old head on young shoulders is one thing but not a ninety year old one on a nineteen year old please.

As the song says, Girls just wanna have fun!

We had to stop at a service area and Tom got all masterful and said he was driving, Ha! .

Well I didn't argue, but when we set off again it was embarrassing, we were being overtaken by Ford Mondeos and BMWs, anyway I decided to have a little wank to relieve the boredom, it was one of the reasons I wore a simple white miniskirt and tee shirt with a lacy thong and bra, I suppose it was cruel when I licked my ring finger first and slowly and deliberately moved it down to between my legs, eased my thong aside and shouted, "Mind that Tanker!" as Tom's attention wandered.

"Tom watch the road please!" I demanded.

"You bloody little tease," he snapped, "That really is below the belt,"

"Oh did I give you a stiffy," I sighed as I leaned across to give him a blow job, of course in fiction I would have gobbled all his creamy cum down my tight throat or something but in reality there is a big centre console with a J shift gear lever right in the way, well when it's in Drive it's in the way, anyway, so I had to use my fingers.

I don't know why men can't multi-task, I've often had a wank while driving the VW Golf on the Motorway while I chatted to a friend on the mobile phone, but Tom, oh dear no, I barely touched him before he closed his eyes and swerved across two lanes, "Tom!" I gasped, "Try and concentrate."

"You really are impossible!" he accused, and he stood on the brakes like an idiot, thank god for ABS or he would have flat spotted the tyres, anyway everything missed us somehow and he pulled onto the hard shoulder.

He tried unsuccessfully to stuff his erection back in his pants and stormed around to my side which was of course towards the traffic where he just grabbed me and ripped my thong right off and wrenched me around so he could get at me and did the deed right there in full view of passing traffic.

It must have taken all of thirty seconds and then he was twitching and pumping me full of the nice creamy spunk he should have given me the previous night instead of snoring while I lay awake with my Vibrator running half speed because the batteries were flat, but it was a nice gesture and there certainly was plenty of it.

Poor Tom looked drained afterwards as I slipped out from underneath him, wiped myself on a wet wipe and scurried round to the drivers side, "You just rest," I suggested,

I think we were doing a hundred by the time he got both feet inside the door, and about one thirty before he got the seat belt on, "Are you Ok darling?" I said sarcastically, as we took our rightful place bullying everyone else out of the fast lane with plenty of use of the headlight flasher and horn, it was even nicer when I asked Tom to wipe me because I was leaking his cum, Oh, I think I actually got wetter but it was a wonderful feeling.

Of course "Le Shuttle" was an anticlimax, then the crawl through Kent and the M25, now that was definitely Tom territory while I had a lovely sleep in the back seat, and then before I knew we were back at Melton Villa.

Daddy and Mummy were there before us, he chartered a Lear Jet, from Marseille to Northolt can you imagine? Hiring a Lear jet and not inviting me along? I could have had a drive.

"Mummy!" I demanded, "What are you doing here?"

"I lost another bet for that damned diamond." she confessed, "It seems I'm here for the week."

"Oh Mummy!" I gasped, "You are careless."

"Actually Darling," Daddy announced, "Lucy Rosenbalm, that's Cecille Rosenbalm's mother, you know "Resenbalm" she got Bronze, well after Cannes she challenged you mother and I to a little wager, it seems there is a seniors tour at Vegas, and well, we need the practice."

"Daddy!" I protested but it was hopeless and Mummy sat down to dinner in her full tack except her bridle and made Daddy feed her, it was disgusting, yuck and I wished I had thought of it because she certainly seemed to enjoy it when Daddy licked up the spills from her breasts.

"Isn't this concentration on sex taking away from the ethos of pony girl competition, the purity of form," I waxed lyrically, "The human form shown in its full animalistic beauty the."

"Bed, Gerald!" Mummy butted in as I spoke eloquently about the purity of the pony girl ethos. and half way through the sweet she simply ordered Daddy to bed and Daddy rushed round to pull her chair out like a love-struck puppy.

"It wont last Mummy" I warned.

"No dear, but it will be fun while it lasts." Mummy announced.

"What shall we do now Georgina," Tom asked as the disappeared towards the bedroom. I despaired what a question., then he continued, "There's not much on TV shall we have an early night?"

"How about you cover me in chocolate sauce and lick it off." I suggested, he must have thought it a great idea because before I could stop him he had grabbed the wrong jug and covered me in beef gravy.

"I meant get naked first," I explained as I looked at my ruined silk blouse, "And that's gravy not chocolate sauce."

"Oh Miss Georgina, you are a clumsy girl," Mrs Grimes exclaimed a few moments later when she came to collect the dishes.

"It's all right, Tom thought it was chocolate sauce." I explained.

"My Cedric always said mint sauce went well with pussy," she recalled, "I should do it here on the floor and save getting the sheets messy," she suggested, "I'll pull the door up don't worry"

"Shall we?" Tom asked, I didn't reply I just peeled off my top, and saw my bra was also soaked and before I could react Tom was licking the gravy off my breasts, he was like a little Yorkshire Terrier or something but it was nice and then as Mrs Grimes suggested we made use of the floor.

The next morning we were back to reality with sign in day at University, boring, and what was worse I realised there were some better athletes there than me there when I went to see about joining the Athletics club, now that is not funny, I do not like not winning, but it wasn't too bad, especially when I found they were fair weather athletes, brilliant in the sunshine but on a typical British summers day of torrential rain they just sat around the clubhouse talking about men.

I preferred to just get out there and train, my time with Henry Bryant on Saddleworth Moor made the discomfort seem a mere triviality, although it was frustrating to finish a run and shower and dress without a celebratory fuck.

Tom did his best, but it wasn't the same when we had to wait until we got home.

Oh I forgot Mummy, Daddy handed her over to Tom to train, poor Tom, poor Mummy, lucky Sonia. Silvana and Evie were long gone but Sonia (Miss Farque) and Sandra, Harry Wallace's daughter that Henry Bryant wanted me to train and Dessie and Sabine and Marmon were still in training with Dot Channing, so Daddy had plenty of opportunities for a gallop, but it meant I had to share my boyfriend's cock with my Mother, arrrggghhh.

I was really cross, but at Uni I knuckled down to learn all about law, like three one hour lectures a week which wasn't exactly onerous, did a bit of training on the track, miles mainly, signed up for a half marathon, that sort of thing between cracking the whip literally at home.

We set Mummy and Sonia to pulling the log cart, Dot and I thought it was a brilliant idea, Daddy was livid which served him right.

Las Vegas was awkward, I needed a few days away from my University course, but a few quick runs around the athletics track caught the eye of the coaches, either my speed attracted attention or it was my boobies when I ran in that damned uplift bra, anyway whatever it worked.

"Georgina, you certainly have a talent for distance running," Mr Houseman a balding once successful 1500 metres and steeplechase athlete told me as he struggled to keep up with me on the last lap of a mile run, he only did the last 400 as well!

"Oh," I lied, "I didn't realise, I have the chance to run in the States in a few weeks time, half marathon," I lied again, "If I can get agreement to miss lectures."

With his help it was more or less a formality which was almost worth the constant accidental gropes and inappropriate touching he subjected me to, ten days away from lectures we agreed and luckily no one asked too many questions about which half marathon it was, but just my luck there was a half marathon only about seventy miles from Vegas in some mountains, more cross country or steeplechase but like anything "Vegas" there was a big prize for the winner, so the trip seemed kosher, especially when I pointed out my win in Yorkshire.

The only problem was the Half marathon was on the Sunday before the Pony Event which was the following Tuesday, not a problem, I am blonde remember, "Oh I got the date wrong but I've booked the flights now!" I pleaded, so I had no acclimatisation, arrive Saturday run Sunday and then over a week apparently stuck in the States, luckily with a big display of contrition, and being blonde I got away with it.

Mountains, it set me thinking and as Daddy had friends in horse training country near Broadway in the Cotswolds,I spent several evenings running up what felt like the side of a house but which was a horse training gallops p the side of a Cotswold hill, and then even worse running back down, bone jarringly quickly, and no, pulling the log cart single handed up the slope to Melton Villa while tacked up was not in any way useful training, but Daddy still insisted on it, although I suspected with Mr Dighby "With an H" and Filcourt-Smyth and Dennis Lothian all being invited "For Drinks!" while I was doing it was all connected with the fact that Daddy desperately tried to keep it a secret that "English Rose," was actually his own daughter.

Things got horribly hectic, poor Tom hardly got to see me and my vibrator started making nasty noises like it was seizing up and then suddenly I was at Heathrow queueing for the obligatory forty something lesbian to strip search me, something which blonde hair and a half decent figure inevitably causes these days and then it was a deep vein thrombosis class seat with no free upgrade on a twenty year old Jumbo with the inevitable stench of vomit and urine that is transatlantic travel in this post Concorde era.

Luckily the in flight movie was really boring, it could have been "When Harry met Mr Bean," for all the notice I took of it and thank the lord, I slept almost all the way there.

Daddy and Mummy met me off the plane, as did Tom, which was very strange as they had dropped me off at Heathrow, Lear Jet again, I suspected. Apparently Dighby wangled them seats on his friend's Lear Jet and Daddy pretended I had already flown out for acclimatisation so they saved the two hours queueing at each end and flew in luxury, typical.

"Ah Pumpkin" Daddy said when he met me at Mccarran, (Mc Carran?) airport, Las Vegas which was always ominous, "I've arranged accommodation for you and Tom."

"Good, I just need a good soak." I agreed.

"Not quite five star," he said apologetically, and he wasn't kidding, it was trailer on a trailer park.

Now Daddy's logic was that if sex was made very uncomfortable it wouldn't happen but well, I hadn't seen much of Tom and it didn't take long to discover that the seats folded down to form a bed, that the walls were paper thin, and the other residents incredibly nosey.

We got down to business as soon as we got rid of Daddy, I had Tom well trained, he was instructed to check my pussy for,moisture, and only if there is no moisture to try foreplay. Well of course I was absolutely soaking!

I just drew the drapes stripped off my damp panties and adopted the position, somewhat like a Gymnast, legs spread as wide as possible, which had Tom looking like he was hung with a cucumber and he just slid his glorious warm penis straight into my sopping wet vagina to fill that void in me which so desperately needed filling and then he set towards quenching the fires which he found burning there, rather too energetically I fear.

"Hey what you guys doing in there!" someone shouted before Tom had even got properly into his stride.

"Playing Scrabble!" I replied sarcastically as I felt the earth move.

"Well you be careful," he said.

We should have listened, because it wasn't the earth moving, it was the trailer moving on its jacks and just as I was really wound up and needed release the damned jack thing slipped off its concrete pad, and crunch, the earth moved, literally moved, vertically, straight down about two feet, Crash!"

It didn't really matter, we just shifted around so we weren't head down, and carried on.

We woke about noon our time the next day, just in time for Daddy to collect me for the race.

"Oh, you had a good rest I see." he announced, as he peered at the trailer still tipped forward at a strange angle and tried to work out how to get into the doorway now some three feet off the ground where the back end had come up as the front went down. We solved the problem when Tom and I moved to the back because it crashed back down level and without a word Daddy handed me a new tracksuit.

You would not believe the number of Logos he had stitched to it, it weighed a ton, stitched, stitched up again I decided but it was too late to do anything about it and after a really healthy meal of a Big Mac and fries Daddy we climbed into Daddy's hired Escalade and he drove along the four lane highway and then down a dirt track in his infuriatingly careful way to deliver me to the start among the foothills of the Nellis mountain range.

I signed in, did the briefing, "Watch for rattlers!" was the highlight and then with no enthusiasm what so ever I lined up with the rest of the runners and thats when it dawned on me that half the runners were guys, just one race. Great. I should have got Tom an entry.

I set off at my usual speed, the route seemed reasonably well marshaled, but it was dirt and steep, and narrow very much like the hills near Broadway, so by the time I found some space I was fourth, ok I couldn't actually live with the power of the men up the punishing hills but neither did I appreciate the danger of falling into a nest of rattlers or worse on the down-hills, so I absolutely flew rushing past loads of apparently timid hunky Americans, phew was it ever exhilarating anyway thirteen miles later I was still fourth when I crossed the line and I just flopped down and peeled my sopping wet, sweat soaked track suit off top off.

"No!" Daddy shouted, "Show the Logos, the sponsors Logos!" I really could have throttled him.

Maybe he should have had Fosdyke and Earl tattooed across my tummy, I didn't dare suggest it, he would have thought it was a wonderful idea.

Luckily there was a separate podium for girls, although with their butch features and spiky US Marine Corps hair do's you would have been hard pressed to realise the second and third place girls were not guys, but at least it made me look good!

The guy presenting the trophies certainly seemed much more interested in kissing me as he presented the award than he was in kissing them and then by way of anti climax immediately after the podium ceremony Daddy suggested "Right lets get you to McCarran for the transfer."

"Why?" I gasped as I realised I just wanted to sleep for a week.

"It's all arranged," he said, "Just a short hop to Dream Land."

I should have known that if Daddy was involved "Las Vegas" would prove to be a patch of Desert Scrub not the Entertainment capital of the world.

In fact it was going to be every bit as bad as I thought, worse in fact.


Training Rose pt 8.
"What on earth did you want to go and do that for!" Daddy demanded as I stepped down from the podium, or what was left of it after it collapsed when I did my victory jump, to a faint ripple of polite applause with my Cannes grand prix winners gold medal around my neck.

I had just won arguably the worlds most prestigious pony-girl event the Cannes Grand Prix outright and yet still he still found cause to criticised me, he really was impossible.

It was bad enough that the third place girl got a bigger cheer than me, well everybody got a bigger cheer than me, to be honest, and no one really seemed to want to have anything to do with me after I changed from my pony-girl uniform of leather bridle, gag, arm clincher and straps, which showed my boobies and sex to perfection and instead changed into my lovely sparkly posh white frock which cost me a small fortune.

"Daddy!" I exclaimed, "Mummy, what are you doing here?" I gasped, there they were standing together, being civil to one another, it seemed unreal.

"Keeping an eye on you," Daddy explained, "What on earth possessed you," he asked, "For heavens sake Georgina, winning, whatever next?"

The flippant answer was the "World Series" at Dreamland near Las Vegas USA, but well better not to rub salt into the wound.

"It was my fault sir!" Tom Warrinder my boyfriend and trainer piped up.

"Don't be absurd!" Mummy exclaimed, "This has Georgina stamped all over it, nobody, nobody at all can begin to match my daughter for deviousness!" she ranted, "And your entry is fraudulent, you're not a proper pony-girl you're a trainer for heavens sake!"

"Mummy just because I won and you never quite managed it." I sniped.

"Oh you're impossible," Mummy gasped, "You know what this means don't you?"

"What?" I said as I became increasingly exasperated.

"I had a bet with your mother." Daddy chuckled, "I bet her a diamond that you would win."

"Right? and if I lost?" I asked.

"No Georgina, it's what I agreed if you won," Mummy said, "If you lost I got a diamond, thirty thousand pounds worth , if you won, dear do you see?"

"Yes, what!" I demanded.

"He gets me!" she said dejectedly, "Oh yes, I agreed, a sure bet."

"Mummy, you win both ways!" I said naively.

"Oh you have a lot to learn, Georgina!" Mummy explained, "He said like the old days the party, do you see."

"Oh Mummy!" I chuckled, "Did he say tacked up!"

"It's not funny!" she snapped.

"Oh but it is, it's priceless!" I chuckled, "Absolutely priceless!" I thought, "Daddy, can I lead her in?"

"No," Mummy insisted which rather made up my mind that I would indeed lead her in.

I imagined the scene, I had to I hadn't been allowed in before because I hadn't been eighteen the previous year so I couldn't go, but I knew that leading to the ballroom there was this magnificent marble staircase and two galleries one above the other with tables raised up above the level of the dance floor along both sides of the floor with a stage at the far end for an orchestra, all presented in gleaming Marble in the Italianate style.

The trouble was do you see I didn't really fit the bill, they wanted a nice compliant, soft, hopefully rather dim but beautiful submissive, and to be honest I wasn't any of those, although Tom often told me I was beautiful, so maybe one out of four?

"Georgina, really I should lead you in." Tom insisted.

"Nowhere in the rules does it say that!" I reminded him, "You escort me, you in Tuxedo and me in a nice stylish gown," I explained, "No tack, no leading in, no sex with half the judges. No." I said very firmly, "No!"

"Just for the first half hour," Daddy suggested, "Then you can change."

"Yes Georgina, please," Tom asked.

"I'd appreciate the moral support," Mummy suggested, "You and me, and that Monsieur Gauchmont is rather dishy."

I nearly threw up at the thought of Gauchmont but decided I couldn't let Tom down.

They wore me down, and so instead of my ball gown there I was being tacked up, oh yes, arms secured firmly in a brand new Fosdyke and Earl black leather clincher, a shiny new black leather corset pushed my boobies up, my blonde hair flowed like a mane through the ring at the back of my brand new bridle, my new boots clopped in the approved manner and just to be sure I insisted on a crotch belt, pulled tight into my pussy, to stop anyone with wandering penis trouble from penetrating me uninvited.

Mr Rathbone of Fosdyke and Earl had personally fitted me with the new tack, my own tack had been cleaned so often their Logos had worn off so when they offered a complete new deluxe personally tailored set if I'd wear it to pose for photos at the ball, well I couldn't resist could I? It was worth thousands and personally tailored, no messing with adjusters for a perfect fit, well, what's a girl supposed to do?

I found out later Daddy set the whole deal up and he got a second set of standard tack for Mummy and a thousand pounds worth of horse riding boots for himself out of the deal as long as he could guarantee some first rate photographs of me with the winner medal and with the Fosdyke and Earl logos prominently displayed..

So there we were Mummy and I, in a bedroom set aside in the Hotel as a changing room getting tacked up with Daddy and Tom's help ready for them to lead us out.

I was comforted by the crotch belt, although it did rather irritate where it rubbed my clit, especially as I walked and particularly as Tom led me and I stepped carefully down the long staircase to the floor of the ballroom.

"And our Champion English Rose," Mr Gauchmont bellowed my nom de competition, "Rose Giles! Medammes et Monsieurs."

A tired ripple of applause changed to a rapturous reception as guests realised I was actually tacked up and essentially naked and not hidden in a ball gown as I stepped carefully down the stairs into the ball room. It was great wearing the combined bit and gag I decided, it meant I didn't need to make small talk with pompous boring Frenchmen.

"And our three medallists" M.Gauchmont announced "Please a round of applause,"

A handrail had been erected at the edge of the stage in front of the top table, a waist height handrail, presumably for us to bend over and I just knew I had been conned again, but there isn't an awful lot one can do while tacked up, a swift kick in the testicles being probably the most effective but Tom was keeping well out of the way and Daddy was very sensibly keeping even further away.

"And Ladies and Gentlemen, we have Caro Mio our fourth placed pony," M.Gauchmont's voice boomed through the loudspeskers as he did his compere thing, "Bronze medallist Resenbalm, and Silver medallist Argonaught's Daughter," he said in his heavily accented French.

"And Medammes et Monsieurs, nous avez, ah we have the Coup de Cannes, the special directors prize," he continued, my heart sank, oh my god, "Pour la," he said, "The best orgasnischer display, open to any pony dressed in la uniform de CPC."

They planned it, Resenbalm, Cario Mio, and Argonaught's daughter, would have a play off for a big prize, except I had turned up as well.

"Any pony in CPC approved tack?" A familiar voice asked, Daddy, Daddy was asking and Mummy was tacked up, although he had just pushed her head down to keep her hidden.

"Mais oui!" M.Gauchmont agreed, "Mam'selle Rose will not take part is that correct." He asked.

"Oh no," Daddy exclaimed, "Melton Stud will enter English Rose and," he paused, "Melton Stud Lady!"

Mummy tried very hard to kick Daddy in the testicles, very very hard, but he was a wily customer and he had her measure although she did kick several Frenchmen and an elegant French woman in a stunning red gown who promptly kicked her back.

There must have been fifteen hundred people watching either sitting at tables raised above the dance floor, or on the chairs around the periphery, or simply standing on the dance floor watching as Tom led me to the raised platform and undid my crotch strap, he took me to the left of the three waiting pony girls, while Daddy dragged a far from willing Mummy to the right and wrapped her reins around the rail in the same way Tom secured mine.

Tom stepped neatly out of his trousers, folded them neatly, then he stepped from his Y fronts folded them neatly and placed the Y fronts in his trouser pocket and hung the trousers neatly over the rail, he really was exasperating, what's wrong with showing some enthusiasm and just leaving them on the floor? Oh yes, he folded his socks and put them in his shoes, but at least he took his socks off unlike M. Heinkel, or was it Herr Heinkel, Resenbalm's trainer who kept his socks on.

"En Garde!" M.Gauchmont "ordered, "Et Un, Deux, Tois Commencer!"

I felt Tom's hands at my breasts, his breath on my neck and I braced as I leaned over the rail provided, "Good Pony!" he whispered, "Now don't cum too soon," he had the nerve to say, "I love you Rose," he said stating the obvious and getting my name wrong in one short pointless statement, but I had a nice warm moist feeling and my nipples tingled pleasantly enough and there was this void that needed filling so I made myself a bit more comfortable, and sure enough Tom eased his cock between my moist lower lips and filled the void nicely and oh did his nice warm muscular cock feel good, I almost regretted missing the tie break.

I looked around the ballroom, its two tiers of viewing galleries with tables, one above the other, I looked at the spectators who were watching me and the other girls, Resenbalm, Caro Mio, Argo, and beyond my Mummy, "Lady," but there was nothing Lady-like about Mummy, Daddy was riding her like she was in the two fifteen at Kempton Park, poor Mummy, she would be forty next birthday, competing with girls half her age, she was sweating already, out of condition I decided.

"Rose, stop gawping." Tom ordered, as three thousand eyeballs homed in on Mummy "Haven't you seen your parents fucking before?"

No of course I bloody haven't, I thought but what could I say with the bit gag in my mouth?
I gave Tom a little squeeze to reassure him as a photographer moved in for some close ups and hopefully some cum shots and then suddenly there was such a commotion, gasping grunting, "Oh Georgina I love you so much," Tom gasped and suddenly ages before I was ready, he started to twitch and throb and then he was flooding me with his hot wet cum.

"Ohhhhhh Georgina, Georgie I looovvvveee you." he wailed, and then he just flopped down on my back leaving me rather frustrated and uncomfortable as he pinned me down against the hand rail as his penis shrank and his cum oozed out of him.

Daddy by contrast kept bobbing away at Mummy for another quarter of an hour, people were getting bored and Tom suggested to M.Gauchmont they should get the band to play "God save the King," as he always stood to attention for that.

"He is already at attention!" M.Gauchmont replied with that typical gallic stupidity that passed for wit.

Finally Daddy came, Mummy appeared to have at least three orgasms before Daddy spurted but I was sure they were just showing off.

Gauchmont had two cronies to help him judge the performance, Marcel Rouen and Gaston Saleine so when Daddy finished we waited for the decision, rather uncomfortably in my case as Tom's spunk oozed down my inner thigh towards my lovey brand new boots.

They announced the winners with a drum role, "For the best Orgasm our winner is," Gauchmont announced and paused while the drums rattled in a crescendo of pointless rattling, "Thomas Warrinder!"

There was a huge roar of laughter, the whole point of the competition was that a girl was supposed to win but there was no doubting that he really had put on the best display much to Daddy's annoyance.

Tom actually went to get his prize without putting his trousers back on, how embarrassing!

"And the judges special prize goes to," he paused, "Melton Lady!" the crowd provided ripple of applause but by now they just wanted the band to start so they could get drunk and dance without any worries.

I looked at Mummy as Daddy untied her and took her to get her prize, she looked absolutely livid, but I really don't know who was more cross, Mummy at winning or Daddy at Tom winning, or perhaps Daddy at losing or maybe Caro, Resenbalm or Argo, or their riders, in any case they left us tied up, at least until Tom came back with his prize, "Look Georgie," he said, "I won something."

It was almost a relief when a swarthy Frenchman started to grope me, "Excuse Moi." Tom said and decked him with a very neat upper cut to the jaw using his left hand, "Unfinished business."

This time it was long and slow and loving as he slid inside me but we stopped the band from setting up because we were in the way, but it was very satisfying and when M.Rouen asked, "Will you bugger off please?" in his best English we obliged him and Tom took me for a bath.

Daddy and Mummy were standing by the steps as we came back down, I had my red ball gown on, the one that goes over the left shoulder not the right and keeps losing it's shape and letting my boobies pop out, Daddy was making the most of Mummy he had her tied to the handrail at the bottom of the staircase and was selling access to her for five hundred Euros a time, and of course when I challenged him my left boobie popped out.

"Daddy," I pleaded, "Please!" I said as I tried to get my boobie back in and keep it in and then I noticed this stupid grin on Mummy's face, and the state of her straining nipples and the wetness glistening around her vagina, "Oh my lord she loves it doesn't she?" I exclaimed.

"Yes," Daddy agreed, "Anyway, it's easy money."

Mummy tried to glower at me but she had this slightly dreamy look of someone who has had too much sex and still wants more, and I had to admit she did look very fit for her age, even if it was nineteen years since she retired from competitions, so clearly swimming, jogging, sun bathing, drinking Campari and being screwed by relays of Spaniards and Frenchmen was a good keep fit regime for a total slut.

It was what attracted Daddy to her in the first place, her father had all the trappings of wealth, but without the wealth, and allegedly for a bet Daddy he had somewhat reluctantly invited the young apparently virginal ice maiden Silvia Montcrieff to a hunt ball one evening, while the equally reluctant Mummy had been ordered to go by her own desperately cash strapped mother who saw Daddy as a cash cow if Mummy could get pregnant.

So Daddy plied her with drink to get her in the mood, and she tried to stay sober so she could seduce him and somehow next morning they found themselves waking in a deserted barn fully clothed and frustrated. Apparently a search party found them around six next evening, having spent the greater part of the day screwing.

Of course they had to get married but Daddy couldn't handle the pace of sex seven or eight times a day, and Mummy just wanted more so when I was three, just after Daddy's Daddy died and left Daddy his estate, and debts, they went their separate ways, Mummy to the Riviera with the cash from selling Daddy's London home, and Daddy went to Melton Villa with Ella my nanny and her DD cup brassiere, and me.

I mixed I mingled, "What do you want to do now?" a bored looking swarthy balding Englishman asked,

"Well, I have a Cannes Grand prix medal," I said, "I'd love a Monaco grand Prix winners garland to go with it."

"There is no Ponygirl Grand Prix at Monaco any more," he said.

"Formula one silly," I explained, "My instructor said he never saw anyone brave enough to try the complex flat in fifth at Silverstone except me."

"What happened?" he asked.

"Barrel rolled three times, the tyres weren't up to temperature," I explained, "I'm going to have another go when he gets out of hospital."

"Oh no don't get involved with Georgina's motor cars," Daddy said, "She starts off flat out and finds her limits by crashing, the Lambourgini dealership banned her after she blew up a Murchilago on a test drive bouncing off the rev limiter for ten miles at two hundred miles an hour while complaining the limiter was set too low, she bent all the valves, it was valve bounce it didn't have a limiter."

"Daddy" I complained, "You're embarrassing me!"

"Oh well, we don't have any opening's at present, perhaps when Jenson retires," the balding swarthy Englishman explained as he escaped my clutches.

"Don't you dare drive for Ferrrari," Daddy said, "I'll disown you."

"Stop criticising my driving, I'm just unlucky," I explained, "Anyway you should be pimping Mummy out or whatever you call it."

"Tom's doing that, put your breast away Georgie, everyones looking," Daddy ordered.

"It just pops back out, I might just as well leave it out," I explained.

I had a really good time, several people mentioned modelling and I talked to a guy about Aerobatics which sounded like fun until he said he wanted me to do wing walking for him, well stuff that, and then it was back to our own hotel where Tom fell into an exhausted sleep while I wished I had brought some spare batteries for my vibrator!

Daddy was nowhere to be seen at breakfast so I went to find him, "Daddy," I called when I found his door locked and a Do Not Disturb sign hung on the door knob, "Are you in there?"

"Just," gasp "A minute," gasp "Georgina," he replied.

"Daddy, do you have a woman in there?" I asked.

"Well he's hardly turned gay has he?" Mummy answered.

"Daddy are you screwing Mummy," I asked incredulously but he was, he opened the door a few minutes later and there was poor Mummy, still tacked up except her bridle and bit.

"Sorry Pumplin something came up." he apologised.

"Mummy," I protested, as she lay there essentially helpless with her arms bound.

"Yes dear, your father has gone all romantic I fear, he spoon fed me cornflakes and strawberries for breakfast, and then announced I still owed him six hours of Pony play, I won't be able to walk when he's finished." she said but she was blushing and trying not to smile.

"Oh well, enjoy yourselves, Can I borrow the Bentley?"

"No, categorically not," Daddy insisted.

"But tomorrow is registration day at Uni!" I pleaded.

"Hire something, something slow," he suggested knowing even among companies who hired to under 25s I was blacklisted just because a Fiat 500 engine blew up when I was driving it.

"I'll drive," he said, "After Lunch." but he didn't, because after lunch he announced "I think I'll stay on a day or two Pumpkin, now you be careful with the car."

I was very very careful, although Tom said "Slow down, Georgina," about once every twenty seconds, and he even put his hands over his eyes when I had to use the hard shoulder to overtake some slow moving trucks, "Your doing 160," he said several times as if he couldn't believe it.

"That's kilometres, about seventy five really," I lied and the poor love believed me, I nearly got 200 down a bit of a slope but some fool in a Ferrari got in the way, and Tom went on and on about fuel mileage and how we would go further in less time if we went slower and didn't stop so often, an old head on young shoulders is one thing but not a ninety year old one on a nineteen year old please.

As the song says, Girls just wanna have fun!

We had to stop at a service area and Tom got all masterful and said he was driving, Ha! .

Well I didn't argue, but when we set off again it was embarrassing, we were being overtaken by Ford Mondeos and BMWs, anyway I decided to have a little wank to relieve the boredom, it was one of the reasons I wore a simple white miniskirt and tee shirt with a lacy thong and bra, I suppose it was cruel when I licked my ring finger first and slowly and deliberately moved it down to between my legs, eased my thong aside and shouted, "Mind that Tanker!" as Tom's attention wandered.

"Tom watch the road please!" I demanded.

"You bloody little tease," he snapped, "That really is below the belt,"

"Oh did I give you a stiffy," I sighed as I leaned across to give him a blow job, of course in fiction I would have gobbled all his creamy cum down my tight throat or something but in reality there is a big centre console with a J shift gear lever right in the way, well when it's in Drive it's in the way, anyway, so I had to use my fingers.

I don't know why men can't multi-task, I've often had a wank while driving the VW Golf on the Motorway while I chatted to a friend on the mobile phone, but Tom, oh dear no, I barely touched him before he closed his eyes and swerved across two lanes, "Tom!" I gasped, "Try and concentrate."

"You really are impossible!" he accused, and he stood on the brakes like an idiot, thank god for ABS or he would have flat spotted the tyres, anyway everything missed us somehow and he pulled onto the hard shoulder.

He tried unsuccessfully to stuff his erection back in his pants and stormed around to my side which was of course towards the traffic where he just grabbed me and ripped my thong right off and wrenched me around so he could get at me and did the deed right there in full view of passing traffic.

It must have taken all of thirty seconds and then he was twitching and pumping me full of the nice creamy spunk he should have given me the previous night instead of snoring while I lay awake with my Vibrator running half speed because the batteries were flat, but it was a nice gesture and there certainly was plenty of it.

Poor Tom looked drained afterwards as I slipped out from underneath him, wiped myself on a wet wipe and scurried round to the drivers side, "You just rest," I suggested,

I think we were doing a hundred by the time he got both feet inside the door, and about one thirty before he got the seat belt on, "Are you Ok darling?" I said sarcastically, as we took our rightful place bullying everyone else out of the fast lane with plenty of use of the headlight flasher and horn, it was even nicer when I asked Tom to wipe me because I was leaking his cum, Oh, I think I actually got wetter but it was a wonderful feeling.

Of course "Le Shuttle" was an anticlimax, then the crawl through Kent and the M25, now that was definitely Tom territory while I had a lovely sleep in the back seat, and then before I knew we were back at Melton Villa.

Daddy and Mummy were there before us, he chartered a Lear Jet, from Marseille to Northolt can you imagine? Hiring a Lear jet and not inviting me along? I could have had a drive.

"Mummy!" I demanded, "What are you doing here?"

"I lost another bet for that damned diamond." she confessed, "It seems I'm here for the week."

"Oh Mummy!" I gasped, "You are careless."

"Actually Darling," Daddy announced, "Lucy Rosenbalm, that's Cecille Rosenbalm's mother, you know "Resenbalm" she got Bronze, well after Cannes she challenged you mother and I to a little wager, it seems there is a seniors tour at Vegas, and well, we need the practice."

"Daddy!" I protested but it was hopeless and Mummy sat down to dinner in her full tack except her bridle and made Daddy feed her, it was disgusting, yuck and I wished I had thought of it because she certainly seemed to enjoy it when Daddy licked up the spills from her breasts.

"Isn't this concentration on sex taking away from the ethos of pony girl competition, the purity of form," I waxed lyrically, "The human form shown in its full animalistic beauty the."

"Bed, Gerald!" Mummy butted in as I spoke eloquently about the purity of the pony girl ethos. and half way through the sweet she simply ordered Daddy to bed and Daddy rushed round to pull her chair out like a love-struck puppy.

"It wont last Mummy" I warned.

"No dear, but it will be fun while it lasts." Mummy announced.

"What shall we do now Georgina," Tom asked as the disappeared towards the bedroom. I despaired what a question., then he continued, "There's not much on TV shall we have an early night?"

"How about you cover me in chocolate sauce and lick it off." I suggested, he must have thought it a great idea because before I could stop him he had grabbed the wrong jug and covered me in beef gravy.

"I meant get naked first," I explained as I looked at my ruined silk blouse, "And that's gravy not chocolate sauce."

"Oh Miss Georgina, you are a clumsy girl," Mrs Grimes exclaimed a few moments later when she came to collect the dishes.

"It's all right, Tom thought it was chocolate sauce." I explained.

"My Cedric always said mint sauce went well with pussy," she recalled, "I should do it here on the floor and save getting the sheets messy," she suggested, "I'll pull the door up don't worry"

"Shall we?" Tom asked, I didn't reply I just peeled off my top, and saw my bra was also soaked and before I could react Tom was licking the gravy off my breasts, he was like a little Yorkshire Terrier or something but it was nice and then as Mrs Grimes suggested we made use of the floor.

The next morning we were back to reality with sign in day at University, boring, and what was worse I realised there were some better athletes there than me there when I went to see about joining the Athletics club, now that is not funny, I do not like not winning, but it wasn't too bad, especially when I found they were fair weather athletes, brilliant in the sunshine but on a typical British summers day of torrential rain they just sat around the clubhouse talking about men.

I preferred to just get out there and train, my time with Henry Bryant on Saddleworth Moor made the discomfort seem a mere triviality, although it was frustrating to finish a run and shower and dress without a celebratory fuck.

Tom did his best, but it wasn't the same when we had to wait until we got home.

Oh I forgot Mummy, Daddy handed her over to Tom to train, poor Tom, poor Mummy, lucky Sonia. Silvana and Evie were long gone but Sonia (Miss Farque) and Sandra, Harry Wallace's daughter that Henry Bryant wanted me to train and Dessie and Sabine and Marmon were still in training with Dot Channing, so Daddy had plenty of opportunities for a gallop, but it meant I had to share my boyfriend's cock with my Mother, arrrggghhh.

I was really cross, but at Uni I knuckled down to learn all about law, like three one hour lectures a week which wasn't exactly onerous, did a bit of training on the track, miles mainly, signed up for a half marathon, that sort of thing between cracking the whip literally at home.

We set Mummy and Sonia to pulling the log cart, Dot and I thought it was a brilliant idea, Daddy was livid which served him right.

Las Vegas was awkward, I needed a few days away from my University course, but a few quick runs around the athletics track caught the eye of the coaches, either my speed attracted attention or it was my boobies when I ran in that damned uplift bra, anyway whatever it worked.

"Georgina, you certainly have a talent for distance running," Mr Houseman a balding once successful 1500 metres and steeplechase athlete told me as he struggled to keep up with me on the last lap of a mile run, he only did the last 400 as well!

"Oh," I lied, "I didn't realise, I have the chance to run in the States in a few weeks time, half marathon," I lied again, "If I can get agreement to miss lectures."

With his help it was more or less a formality which was almost worth the constant accidental gropes and inappropriate touching he subjected me to, ten days away from lectures we agreed and luckily no one asked too many questions about which half marathon it was, but just my luck there was a half marathon only about seventy miles from Vegas in some mountains, more cross country or steeplechase but like anything "Vegas" there was a big prize for the winner, so the trip seemed kosher, especially when I pointed out my win in Yorkshire.

The only problem was the Half marathon was on the Sunday before the Pony Event which was the following Tuesday, not a problem, I am blonde remember, "Oh I got the date wrong but I've booked the flights now!" I pleaded, so I had no acclimatisation, arrive Saturday run Sunday and then over a week apparently stuck in the States, luckily with a big display of contrition, and being blonde I got away with it.

Mountains, it set me thinking and as Daddy had friends in horse training country near Broadway in the Cotswolds,I spent several evenings running up what felt like the side of a house but which was a horse training gallops p the side of a Cotswold hill, and then even worse running back down, bone jarringly quickly, and no, pulling the log cart single handed up the slope to Melton Villa while tacked up was not in any way useful training, but Daddy still insisted on it, although I suspected with Mr Dighby "With an H" and Filcourt-Smyth and Dennis Lothian all being invited "For Drinks!" while I was doing it was all connected with the fact that Daddy desperately tried to keep it a secret that "English Rose," was actually his own daughter.

Things got horribly hectic, poor Tom hardly got to see me and my vibrator started making nasty noises like it was seizing up and then suddenly I was at Heathrow queueing for the obligatory forty something lesbian to strip search me, something which blonde hair and a half decent figure inevitably causes these days and then it was a deep vein thrombosis class seat with no free upgrade on a twenty year old Jumbo with the inevitable stench of vomit and urine that is transatlantic travel in this post Concorde era.

Luckily the in flight movie was really boring, it could have been "When Harry met Mr Bean," for all the notice I took of it and thank the lord, I slept almost all the way there.

Daddy and Mummy met me off the plane, as did Tom, which was very strange as they had dropped me off at Heathrow, Lear Jet again, I suspected. Apparently Dighby wangled them seats on his friend's Lear Jet and Daddy pretended I had already flown out for acclimatisation so they saved the two hours queueing at each end and flew in luxury, typical.

"Ah Pumpkin" Daddy said when he met me at Mccarran, (Mc Carran?) airport, Las Vegas which was always ominous, "I've arranged accommodation for you and Tom."

"Good, I just need a good soak." I agreed.

"Not quite five star," he said apologetically, and he wasn't kidding, it was trailer on a trailer park.

Now Daddy's logic was that if sex was made very uncomfortable it wouldn't happen but well, I hadn't seen much of Tom and it didn't take long to discover that the seats folded down to form a bed, that the walls were paper thin, and the other residents incredibly nosey.

We got down to business as soon as we got rid of Daddy, I had Tom well trained, he was instructed to check my pussy for,moisture, and only if there is no moisture to try foreplay. Well of course I was absolutely soaking!

I just drew the drapes stripped off my damp panties and adopted the position, somewhat like a Gymnast, legs spread as wide as possible, which had Tom looking like he was hung with a cucumber and he just slid his glorious warm penis straight into my sopping wet vagina to fill that void in me which so desperately needed filling and then he set towards quenching the fires which he found burning there, rather too energetically I fear.

"Hey what you guys doing in there!" someone shouted before Tom had even got properly into his stride.

"Playing Scrabble!" I replied sarcastically as I felt the earth move.

"Well you be careful," he said.

We should have listened, because it wasn't the earth moving, it was the trailer moving on its jacks and just as I was really wound up and needed release the damned jack thing slipped off its concrete pad, and crunch, the earth moved, literally moved, vertically, straight down about two feet, Crash!"

It didn't really matter, we just shifted around so we weren't head down, and carried on.

We woke about noon our time the next day, just in time for Daddy to collect me for the race.

"Oh, you had a good rest I see." he announced, as he peered at the trailer still tipped forward at a strange angle and tried to work out how to get into the doorway now some three feet off the ground where the back end had come up as the front went down. We solved the problem when Tom and I moved to the back because it crashed back down level and without a word Daddy handed me a new tracksuit.

You would not believe the number of Logos he had stitched to it, it weighed a ton, stitched, stitched up again I decided but it was too late to do anything about it and after a really healthy meal of a Big Mac and fries Daddy we climbed into Daddy's hired Escalade and he drove along the four lane highway and then down a dirt track in his infuriatingly careful way to deliver me to the start among the foothills of the Nellis mountain range.

I signed in, did the briefing, "Watch for rattlers!" was the highlight and then with no enthusiasm what so ever I lined up with the rest of the runners and thats when it dawned on me that half the runners were guys, just one race. Great. I should have got Tom an entry.

I set off at my usual speed, the route seemed reasonably well marshaled, but it was dirt and steep, and narrow very much like the hills near Broadway, so by the time I found some space I was fourth, ok I couldn't actually live with the power of the men up the punishing hills but neither did I appreciate the danger of falling into a nest of rattlers or worse on the down-hills, so I absolutely flew rushing past loads of apparently timid hunky Americans, phew was it ever exhilarating anyway thirteen miles later I was still fourth when I crossed the line and I just flopped down and peeled my sopping wet, sweat soaked track suit off top off.

"No!" Daddy shouted, "Show the Logos, the sponsors Logos!" I really could have throttled him.

Maybe he should have had Fosdyke and Earl tattooed across my tummy, I didn't dare suggest it, he would have thought it was a wonderful idea.

Luckily there was a separate podium for girls, although with their butch features and spiky US Marine Corps hair do's you would have been hard pressed to realise the second and third place girls were not guys, but at least it made me look good!

The guy presenting the trophies certainly seemed much more interested in kissing me as he presented the award than he was in kissing them and then by way of anti climax immediately after the podium ceremony Daddy suggested "Right lets get you to McCarran for the transfer."

"Why?" I gasped as I realised I just wanted to sleep for a week.

"It's all arranged," he said, "Just a short hop to Dream Land."

I should have known that if Daddy was involved "Las Vegas" would prove to be a patch of Desert Scrub not the Entertainment capital of the world.

In fact it was going to be every bit as bad as I thought, worse in fact.

Training Rose Part 8.

An elderly three engined Boeing 727 airliner was waiting for us at McCarran airport as we arrived just after dark, a 727 with cigarette burns on the varied hues of its filthy second hand upholstery , blues, greens some even in orange and red check, but despite the fact it smelled like a bear pit all three engines seemed to work and it took off easily enough yet almost as soon as it levelled off it seemed to start descending again through the darkness and the pilot announced, "This is your Captain speaking, don't bother releasing your seat belts we shall be landing at Dream Land in less than five minutes."

I sat by Tom a row behind Mummy and Daddy, I wondered why Mummy wore denim jeans and when I saw the state of the aircraft I realised why.

"Where on earth is Dream Land?" I asked but no one replied.

We landed in darkness, except for the landing lights which reflected brightly off the dusty runway and almost as soon as the aircraft stopped rolling we were sent down the built in stairway under the tail to the ground which it turned out was white salt, not asphalt and oddly as we went towards the buses an officer in military uniform checked us off against a checklist and directed us to the right bus while another group of soldiers kept guard.

"Excuse me, where exactly are we?" I asked nervously.

"Groom Lake Nevada, Ma'am," The officer said proudly as if it should have meant something, "Pony Play capital of the USA."

"Thanks," I agreed, still none the wiser.

Tom and I were shown to military style bunks in barrack rooms intended for four men, and when we had unpacked we ate in a military style canteen, where we ate military size suppers served by military personnel in military mess tins and military mugs.

"Daddy what is this, its like a prison!" I demanded.

"Ah Pumpkin, most secure pace on earth outside Russia and Fort Knox, where they developed the U2 and SR 71." he said.

"U2?" I queried in a blonde moment, "Aren't they a rock band."

"And the B2, and F111," Tom added.

"You mean F117 Stealth fighter." Daddy corrected him, "You can sleep safe in your beds here."

He wasn't kidding, you certainly couldn't do anything else in them! Tom and I had to use the floor,and the wall beside the locker, and actually the height of the bed wasn't too bad so we practised anal over the bottom of the bed just in case. I hate anal, I really do especially with the cold metal tube of a military bed digging into my tummy as Tom pounded into me, but all the great artists suffer for their art as Daddy says although what the hell that had to do with bending over the end of a bed while someone poked one's bottom I really do not know.

Some idiot played Renville at six thirty a.m. over the Tannoy and then an American with a folksy hill billy accent announced , "OK will all Pony Play folks assemble in Hanger F23 at oh eight hundred hours local time."

"What the hell do we need an hour and a half to do?" I asked.

Queue for the bathroom and showers that's what.

F23 was something else, you could have put the Cannes complex into it five times, and as I all too soon found out we girls had to be signed in, tacked up and then kept in character for the rest of the event, which wasn't funny, wandering around next to naked with your arms bound behind you and with a bit gag so you can't talk, or at best a ring gag isn't funny.

At least we had a well appointed stall each, treadle operated drinks dispenser, cereal dispenser, and yes I suppose if I had been born a genuine horse I should have been delighted.

Still there was a TV with a foot operated scroll down feature for channel changing, and when Tom came he showed me the comforter, yes a Dildo on a tripod, and with a spring loaded lube pump, absolute state of the art luxury for the discerning lesbian, but it was the sheer size of everything there seemed to be one hundred stalls, two banks of fifty, and nearly as many competitors, fifty for the main event for which there were heats so I understood, although as I later found they didn't have the cross country element in the heats so they could be contained in warehouses, or an unfinished Shopping Mall for Northern California, but it seemed there was a personality assessment instead of the Cross Country like Pony-Show meets Miss-Universe which seemed incredibly bizarre.

I had been seeded a place as had a few other girls and at least five runners up had tagged along in case of no shows to ensure we had the fifty, while for the seniors I think around thirty seven "Girls" had been pried from retirement and surprisingly almost a third of them from Europe including Mummy

Nine o'clock was scrutineering, oh yes we had to be checked by a team of butch lesbians, mine was quite nice, "Just got to check you are a real girl not some Trans-gender freak," she said as she sat me in one of those chairs they use for pregnant ladies, clamped my ankles in the stirrups, spread my legs apart and peeled my labia open to look inside.

"Do you feel that?" she said as she took my clit between her index finger and thumb.

"Mmm, nice!" I replied which made her smile.

"You're English Rose eh?" she asked, "Winner at Cannes?"

"Yes," I agreed, "That's why I'm here."

"Well you got your work cut out, there ain't no sea crossing here." she said.

"Were you there?" I asked.

"No but we all saw the video," she admitted, "Gee ain't your mom something!" she asked, "You're straight I guess?" she said.

"Yes," I agreed.

"Shame," she said and she pinned a badge to my corset, "You'll do!" she said and she buckled the standard combined bit and ball gag in place and sent me on through to the holding pen where we were all squeezed up together while we waited for the Jumps to start.

The jumps were not funny, instead of fifteen inches they were about three feet high some very solid walls with rounded tops simply to slow some girls down and some very light poles.
I struggled round somehow, it was all very brutal compared to Europe, and the sheer size of the arena just swallowed the audience which as far as I could tell consisted of enlisted men and officers, although some highlights were shown on the huge LCD TV screens,mainly when somebody got it badly wrong and crashed to the floor.

I was shocked at the standard and amazed to come fourth, I didn't believe it, until Tom told me some of the competitors actually fell over.

We broke for lunch, oh my god there was a weeks worth of protein in each portion, and that's when I started noticing the logos on the girls tack, half of them seemed to be sponsored by Nevada whore houses and the rest by porno mags, I seemed to be the only one with the tack manufacturers logo, but it was the sheer mass of tacked up pony girls sitting down to lunch that was so overwhelming, just like a herd of exotic creatures with our breasts hanging out yet our arms released so we could eat burgers and fries where in Europe we would have been lucky to get Muesli in a bucket eaten without using our hands.

"How much you girls charge in England Girlie?" A buxom peroxide blonde asked me, as I sat picking at my half pound burger

"I'm at Uni." I explained.

"So am I girl, but it don't stop me charging a thousand dollars a night," she lied, I doubted she made thirty dollars a time, but then again she did have some very impressive breasts, silicon but impressive!

The format was very weird because although they didn't score it they still had the slot before Dressage for us to be interviewed like Miss Universe or something, and an Air Force General, Mark Ganassi did the interviews, with a microphone. I later realised the reason was so the Porn Studio reps who made up a sizeable part of the audience could get an idea of how well we could speak, as well as watching us get shafted in the Dressage.

We were kept back so we couldn't hear the other girls answers, I was invited up fourth my finishing position in the Jumps.

"English Rose winner at Cannes, say how does the good ole USA compare?" he asked and aimed the microphone at me as I stood with my gag hanging loose.

"Badly!" I said.

"Ohh Kay," he said somewhat taken aback by my honesty, "And what would winning this one million dollar porn film contract mean to you?"

"I would mean a lot to my Daddy because I am going to strangle him!" I announced loudly, "Daddy, you told me it was cash!"

"Hey, you're a frisky one," he said as I tried to walk off, "Jasper Raygun, star of "Ball Deep" and "Choked and Cummin," is all set to be your co star, don't you want his eleven inches of raw meat inside of you?" he asked."

"No!" I protested and he tried to force my gag back in before I could say any more, "I Wanna see the contract," I insisted.

"Sure, get her one Hank!" he requested and then "Hank" dragged me away off stage and sat me down in a chair and fished a copy of the rules from his back pocket.

"Here y'are," Hank announced as he handed me the copy, and he held it for me to read, there were the closely typed pages and a mass of photographs, it wasn't too bad merely the right to take up the role not a compulsion, three films at $ 334,000 each, no wonder the field was made up of whores and show girls, oh and the photographs were of Jasper's smiling face and a certain other part of his anatomy measured against a 12" ruler!

I barely had time to read the rules before Tom and I were called for Dressage, which meant me walking round in circles keeping my posture as near perfect as I could, with my thighs level as I high stepped, and of course the compulsory mount where I was supposed to look completely indifferent while Tom bent me over the mounting pole and took me from behind, luckily for me the thought of all those lusty Americans ogling my boobies and pussy as I performed had me all lovely and wet and slippery but then Tom just scooped that moisture on his hand and smeared it on his tool and ignoring everything we had agreed he forced himself up my bottom, oh my god, it was agony and it made it such hard work trying to look indifferent, it really took some mind control, I really hate Anal.

Every fibre of your being says "Scream" but you can't you have to remain impassive, Tom and I had practised diligently until we had nearly perfected our technique for taking my Vagina and as long as Tom got his angle of attack right and my clit started throbbing I just knew I would get a good score, but suddenly here he was throwing away the script, and going for the bottom for the chance of a few measly extra points, I just knew Daddy had something to do with it.

I settled down a bit so the rail rubbed my clit, and then it wasn't so bad indeed I think I lost a bit when Tom came and I orgasm-ed, through rubbing my Clint at just about the same time because I think a tear or two fell from my eyes which detracted from the impression of indifference the pony should display under US/ European rules, and we lost the bit we gained for Anal over Vaginal anyway, did I mention that I hate Anal? but oh my, my tear was nothing compared to "Oriental Star IV" faux pas.

"Star" was seeded through from Shanghai, and Japanese porn-star Hatsumi Tanganaki, better known for his ten inch penis than his acting ability was acting as her trainer for some reason and as almost as soon as he touched her she began writhing and thrashing and wailing as if she was being torn in half, as indeed she was.

You see under East Asia rules they prize overt orgasmic display when mounted, reverse of our ethos, which I suspect evolved from the need for serving girls in the Mansions of Edwardian England who needed to keep their emotions in check, the master didn't want the Chambermaid screaming the place down when he raped her did he? So they were trained quietly in the stables usually which probably was the origin of out sport.

Curiously Japan uses UK rules, very similar to US/ Europe which made it even stranger that Tanganaki should appear as trainer.

Essentially and I'm no expert, (And many would disagree saying I know the UK rules backwards) UK rules allow the trainer to have a front flap to the breeches to keep his member warm, while US/ Europe insist it remains visible throughout the Dressage to ensure the Trainer can be seen to be male, or indeed to be a female with a strap on, five minutes minimum penetration being required with a strap on against ejaculation or five minutes which ever is soonest for males.

After Tom and I performed we went and sat down and watched the action, he chose a seat where I could see both Arenas, I watched the Dressage, "Oriental Star IV" was hilarious, she knew what to do but she just lost it, she really did sound like half a dozen cats fighting with a touch of the timbre of a chain saw, but the funniest bit was the oldies.

As the Senior Tour was in it's infancy, created at the behest of porn studios looking for genuine uninhibited fit new talent, for their Cougar and Granny productions, anyone who had won a medal at any one of a dozen international shows and had retired before Jan 1st 2000 was eligible and quite a few had exchanged tying naked on their balconies in Palm Beach for parading next to naked at Groom Lake but oh my the shape of some of them, oh my! bellies as big as their boobies some of them!

Now Mummy is fit, for her age, and I was quite proud of her as Daddy put her through her paces especially as she had only come because of a grudge match between herself and Lucy Rosenbalm, and one or two others, and of course a seniors prize of $ 100 000 cash, plus sponsorship and marketing deals which Daddy had cobbled together, although seeing Daddy mount her on an LCD screen was an experience I could well have done without especially as he mounted her by using her Vagina and cost them a few percentage points but with such an energetic display that they were still showing it as a high-light two hours later, like a Terrier at a trouser leg, Tom called it, while Mummy smiles benignly as if she barely noticed, probably because her regular gigolo was hung like an elephants trunk and Daddy needed to be on top to have any effect on her.

As it turned out Mummy was second in the Seniors Dressage and fifth in Jumps but because of their bizarre scoring where a win is one point second is two etc Mummy was rather well up the standings.

Of course as my dressage had also finished with the compulsory mount, and must have been considered to have been a good one so they showed it as a highlight in graphic detail on huge plasma screens around the arena, it seemed every time I looked up I saw the the graphic image in glorious LCD Technicolor of Tom's penis enlarged to about twenty feet long being eased into the brown bud which expanded to become my dustbin size anus, no wonder it hurt!

And then of course they turned to the image of my face with my fixed smile as I hid the discomfort and pretended I was enjoying it with a mixture of indifference and pleasure, it must have been impressive, as there was a muffled thunder of applause. Yuck!

The thing was with the need to get everything done in a certain time the seniors performed Dressage while we did Jumps and vice versa but we could watch most of the action either live or in the LCD TV screens although it was planned that we would all do Cross Country together, and get scored together as the Seniors were expected to be 20th or worse in the cross country so there wouldn't be a problem with scoring although in theory a Senior could win overall, which set me plotting.......

We ran the CC without bits or gags but with arm clinchers in late afternoon, well ran, half the field were gasping for breath and barely trotting by two hundred yards and yet this was the three mile course, the course started at the hanger and went a quarter mile across the salt to the sand and saltbush of the foothills and then a mile up a barren rocky valley towards the mountain summit and a mile and a bit back down, and there were check points and they dobbed a splat of paint on our buttocks as we passed, Plan A was to come somewhere in the middle, some hopes, I'd have died of boredom or heat stroke, but the initial pace was abysmal Mummy could have done better.

I spotted her after the top check point, parallel with me across the valley, back in about 20th place, "Mummy run you lazy cow!" I shouted, and with a wicked flash of inspiration I went back to get her, back up against the flow of runners until I found her as she left the top check point, "Run!" I insisted, "Lucy Rosenbalm has taken an illegal short cut!" I lied.

"No!" she protested, and as I led the way she hurtled along like a rather portly Roe deer if not exactly a Gazelle, "Quick!" I shouted as she slithered on her steel horseshoe soled pony boots on the hard surface, overtaking a number of more cautious though fitter and younger girls through her simple inability to stop.

"I can't see her without my glasses," Mummy panted, "Not far now!" I exclaimed, "You're ahead on points you just need to be within two places," I said knowing Lucy was actually about a mile behind by now, and then suddenly there was the line, somehow I got Mummy across it before I got there and with a quick count up I was in third place with a $ 5 000 cash and a burger joint promotional deal and Mummy had beaten Lucy, and what I didn't know was Celine, who was behind me, was so confused when I turned round that she slipped off the track and had to be rescued and had limped in 18th.

I saw an aeroplane coming into land as we walked back to the hanger, it didn't really register as anything unusual just an Airbus A380, nor did the 747 that followed it, or even when I heard the planes leave later when I was changing, of course it should have registered, that was about a thousand seats worth of passengers landing, but of course they taxied to a distant hanger so I couldn't actually see the hundreds of spectator descending.

No results were announced until we were all home, much like Frenchmen who ran Cannes our American friends did some subtle "adjustments" and awarded, "penalties!" to ensure that there would inevitably be a tie break, there always was and I had already decided there was no way I was getting involved so as soon as mother and I had been scrutineered again by another butch Lesbian and our tack checked for conformity to the regulations and our arm clinchers released I found Tom took a cold shower and I changed into my street clothes, well actually into the same rather posh white sparkly dress that I wore at Cannes.

Mummy, as befits a total slut, changed her dusty tack for the brand new set in white leather which Daddy had wangled for her from Fosdyke and Earle and so she returned to the arena in full regalia except for the bridle and arm clincher, "Mummy!" I exclaimed "What on earth!"

She had these huge glittery star-bursts, one on each breast held in place with a gold (plated) clamp on each nipple, she really did look like a down market porn version of Super Woman.

"Don't you like them darling?" she said, "Gone all prudish again have we?"

"Yuck!" I thought, though at least it was mildly better than a piercing.

When we came back there was a part of the hanger laid out with tables for dinner and another part laid out as a ball room, and everyone sat down together, trainers, ponies, guests all together, an astonishing number of guests I decided, until I remembered the A380 and Jumbo that landed earlier, suddenly it started to make some sort of sense,

The dinner was very civilised for the land of fried chicken and the quarter pounder and as well as paper napkins and table cloths and real metal knives and forks, we had a proper meal of soup. fish, meat, and no there wasn't a vegetarian option, and dessert courses then cheese and biscuits and only then did Air Force General, Mark Ganassi leave the "Officials," top table and climb onto the stage which separated Dining and Ballroom areas stand to take the microphone to make a speech. A number of young men and women wearing military fatigues followed him up the steps and sat on a row of chairs on the stage behind him, I thought they looked more like porn-stars than soldiers.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we have today witnessed a truly remarkable spectacle probably unrivalled in the seventy seven years of these championships, from humble beginnings among dirt farmers who couldn't afford horses for a Gymkhana so's they had to use their wives, through the lean years of the second world war to the great spectacle we have today but I suggest to you that before we go to the prizes we the organising committee have decided to give a special prize, to one who unselfishly spoiled her own chances of winning to help a fellow competitor, when she was in difficulty."

I shrunk in the chair with embarrassment, I just knew what was coming.

"A great testament to the ethos of the English trainer Lord Melton and especially his daughter Rose who so unselfishly," he said as the LCD screens lit up to show me stop and run back up hill.

"Who so unselfishly," he said choking back mock tears, "Went back to assist her mother,"

Mummy glared at me, Daddy looked daggers, Tom stared at his Campari, I blushed.

"And in so doing spoiled her own chances of winning this prestigious championship," he exclaimed, "Rose Melton, English Rose please come up and accept the special prize."

I expected a bronze dildo or worse but it was a very tasteful statue of a mare with a foal, except both had human heads.

"Thank you so much," I said, "I don't know what to say!"

"Then shut up and sit down," a heckler shouted, I'd know Daddy's voice anywhere.

I shook the General's hand, kissed his cheek and returned to my seat and sat down.

"And now to the winners, in the Senior Tour we have a tie for second place between Pheonix Belle and Gracie Fuchs, and overall we have a tie between Saltlake Sarah Belle and Mephis Grace 111, for third so would the girls please get dressed ready for the tie break in fifteen minutes," he paused building tension or was it irritation, "But without further ado I can announce that the winner of the Las Vegas Grand Prix is."

The clock ticked twenty two seconds before he spoke again, building tension was one thing this was ridiculous, and since when was the first place awarded before second or third? although I suppose thats what they do in Formula 1car racing.

"Melton Stud" he said my blood froze, "Lady!"

I stared at Mummy, her jaw dropped instantly, "You beast!" she snarled "What on earth did you do!"

"I thought Celine won!" I blustered, but then Mummy was gliding towards the stage to get her certificate, and when she got there before she could set off back she found she had won the Seniors as well.

"And the runner up in the Grand Prix is," tick tock tick tock "Melton Stud Rose,"

"Yes!" I yelled and punched the air, "Wheee."

"You look suspiciously like you would rather come second than win," Daddy hissed.

I just grinned, it wasn't like I planned, it was even better! and the look on Jasper Raygun's face, as he sat on stage was a picture, Jasper the star of "Ball Deep" and "Choked and Cummin,"
was the porn-star Mummy would have the chance to star alongside with his legendary eleven inches of raw meat, and delighted he certainly was not.

"Daddy it's the stupid scoring combining Seniors and Grand Prix competitors in the Cross Country!" I hissed.

"Georgina," I know you cheated somehow!" he said but I was already bounding towards the stage, to the glares of Celine and Lucy Rosenbalm.

"Say you an Athlete?" Mark Ganassi the Air Force General asked.

"Oh yes, it says so on my entry form," I assured him as I stepped up to receive my prize.

"Yeah they all say that but I guess you're the only one that didn't lie!" he agreed, "Anyway here you are, your check and your trophy, only a loan until next year though!"

It was a beautiful silver figurine of a winged horse standing on it's hind legs, I held it over my head and waved to the audience, they clapped politely enough, I guess they would have preferred me dressed in tack.

And then I stood beside Mummy on the podium.

"He looks awfully dishy!" Mummy muttered as she indicated Jasper Raygun.

"You greedy cow!" I exclaimed, "He's hung like a Donkey."

"Yes!" she said her eyes twinkling. "Isn't he!"

"Georgina," Mummy asked. "Did you want me to win?"

"No, I thought, oh I don't know!" I admitted.

"Well it was a lovely gesture, I do know you had an angle on it, but it's really surreal, as if I cheated." she admitted.

"It's the stupid scoring system, and you must have overtaken lots of girls coming down,"
I reminded her, "Yes, I couldn't do anything else with you pushing me!" she replied.

We took our seats on stage for the tie breaks, "I guess we'll have to run the runs separately next year," Major Ganassi suggested to Mummy. "I think you would have been maybe seventeenth in open class Dressage."

"We all knew the rules General, just make sure that in future the top prize is worth more than second if you're not a career prostitute." I suggested.

"My god, you know I liked you a whole lot better with your gag in," he snapped, but he was staring at Mummy, not me, her sex glistening and her nipples turning a strange deep purple colour through arousal and the effect of the clamps. I guessed they were about the same age, and I guessed what they were thinking.

"Mummy, you're leaking all over the upholstery." I suggested, she was only a bit damp really but she shifted guiltily.

"Georgina," she said "Shut up."

"I'll tell Daddy!" I warned.

"You do and I'll tell him about the hire car in Monaco." Mummy threatened.

"It wasn't my fault, I didn't know." I explained remembering that lurid under-steering, wheel breaking, suspension twisting slide into the kerb at the hairpin, on wet morning in January, "Even Schumacher went off there once, Oh god Daddy will have a fit."

"She thinks she can drive," Mummy explained unfairly.

"Ha ha," General Ganassi laughed.

"I'd beat you any day of the week!" I threatened and then the girls came up on stage for the tie breaks.

General Ganasi took the Microphone again, "Now some of you foreign guys won't have seen a good old American tie break before but here we do things a tad different to Europe." he said "And here we have Mr Ronald Big and Mr Arfur Meter, the stars of Mark Her's latest production Cummin like Niagra, to do the honours and Miss Dolores Fuchs and her sister Miss Elsie Fuchs to test the trainers, yes sir-ee in US Pony Play we make sure both partners pull their weight."

"What!" I gasped, as I saw two heavily hung white guys peeling off their military fatigues to reveal that they were wearing shirts and boots and nothing else "I really will kill Daddy!" I muttered under my breath, as I saw them don cowboy hats and then I saw the look in Mummy's eye, and I realised, oh my, she was jealous!

I wouldn't exactly say Sarah Belle or Mephis Grace, looked nervous, oh no, totally over excited more likely as they came on stage and their Trainers adjusted the height of the rails they were to bend over, and then it started, really it was about as exciting as watching a bull mounting a cow in a barnyard, these huge bloated penises disappearing inside the girl's poop shoots shown magnified about a hundred times on the huge LCD screens, well I actually found the camera-men's antics as they tried to make the action vaguely interesting to be more fun to watch than pictures themselves.

I watched disinterestedly as "Mr Big" thrust in and back out about eight inches so only the "m" of the makers white logo on his black XXL size Superdom condom was hidden inside Sarah Belle before he slammed back inside her, it might have been erotic if his overly bloated monster penis hadn't actually slipped out on about every fifth stroke, I always wondered why they cut porn films to a different shot after about every sixth stroke, now I knew.

Arfur Meter was every bit as clumsy and inept as "Mr Big" as he struggled to please Memphis Grace and slowly the mood changed from stunned anticipation to a sort of a mixture of eroticism and humour.

Now while as a serious example of a tie break it was something of a disaster, as a spectacle well, it was quite something, and I wasn't the only one that thought so, as I became aware of the huge number of people now watching, maybe two or three thousand, a number of whom were now getting carried away on the floor beyond the dinner tables.

Self interest intervened at this point and I sneaked away to make sure Tom wasn't showing an excess of interest in anyone else, "Say Rose, how about an action shot?" a stray photographer asked which was the final straw for me.

"Tom," I said, "Bed!"

"Sorry," he said to the photographer, "Something came up!" and he whisked me back to the safety of his room where we were spared the sight of a rather drunken father re enacting his mount with Mummy, and far far worse her first encounter with Jasper Raygun's monster penis, shown in glorious technicolor on the giant LCD screen.

Tom was pleasantly rampant but I made sure he was fully satisfied by getting him hard again as soon as he had cum the first time and immediately sinking down on him again for some more pleasant action.

There was a ball going on when we got back, the tie breaks over, the local barbershop quartet had murdered the star spangled banner, the local USAF band was pretending to be Status Quo with limited success and elegant couples were whirling each other around the floor. I spotted Daddy whirling Mummy around, except almost uniquely Mummy was still tacked up with a huge winners rosette pinned to her corset, except she had two rosettes, having won Seniors as well.

I just had my second place rosette displayed tastefully on my white dress, "Hey there y'are," General Ganassi announced, "You darned near made me look a fool, helping your mother."

"I don't think you need much help General," I replied sweetly.

"That should have been your sweet ass poked in that tie break," he suggested.

"Yes," I agreed, "Perhaps next year."

"Not unless you win Cannes again," he said.

"How much for me not to enter?" I asked.

"I'll buy you an automobile." he promised.

"A second hand one?" I asked.

"Gee what sort of guy do you think I am?" he asked just as Daddy turned up.

"Watch Georgina, General, she's devious." Daddy suggested, "She wants a McLaren F1 and they don't make them any more."

"What a race car?" he asked.

"No road car," Daddy said for me, "My Bentley only does 190 and its' not fast enough for her.

"That's kilometers right," the General asked and when daddy shook his head do you know despite his chest full of medals the General actually looked scared, so I didn't get my Automobile, and it looks like Jenson isn't about to retire any time soon so I guessed I would have to concentrate on my degree, oh and training Tom to do what I want him to do without my having to tell him.

"You could always try Formula Ford?" Daddy suggested.

"Hell two hundred's slow, My F15 does Mach three." a passing pilot confided., "Like two thousand!"

"Now that sounds like real fun all I need is US citizenship," I replied.

"No absolutely not," Daddy insisted.

"Daddy," I asked, and pointed at the huge LCD screen,

"Isn't that Mummy with Jasper Raygun?"

"Oh my lord," Daddy gasped, Jasper was on stage and Mummy was riding his eleven inches of solid meat, oh yes Mummy was doing the riding, apparently she got fed up with his tool dropping out of her so she made him lie on his back while she bounded up and down like an ageing rabbit.

Parents can be so embarrassing sometimes, still rather her than me.

"Oh dear, I was hoping we could get back together," Daddy sighed, "I can't compete with that."

"But you're witty and charming and devious and cunning and ruthless," I reminded him, "Even if you do come up short in the Penis department but I'm sure you'll think of something."

"Rose!" he retorted but he knew I was right, and anyway Mummy wasn't as young as she used to be, but still seeing her rise up until a full eight inches of glistening shaft was visible between her labia and his curly pubes before she plunged back down with a schoolgirl like yelp was frighteningly graphic when shown in close up on a twenty by forty feet HD TV screen.

Sometimes you just want to disown your parents, "Oh no," I declared when I saw Tom looking at me hungrily, but then I thought well, at least he wants me, and in a room full of professional hookers that was a sort of compliment in itself.

We found a quiet piece of hanger, I hung my dress up and so I didn't get too dirty I made Tom lie on his back and I straddled him, oh and he was so warm and lovely I didn't even notice the camera man sneak up on us, or realise we had an audience, until I was really too turned on to care and the guy was saying, "Pull out Pull out give us a cum shot."

I think it went about eighteen inches straight up.

Tom was not impressed, "You slut!" he wailed.

"Tom Warrinder it was your idea!" I reminded him.

"Not on video!" he retorted.

"Oh splitting hairs now are we," I demanded.

"Now who's being." he said so I gave him my left nipple to suck while I did a deal with the cameraman.

"Take two Tom," I explained as I slid back to impale myself on his renewed erection, and I exclaimed "Eye Ha ride em cowboy!" as agreed as I bounced up and down on his tool.

I'm never going to make it as a porn star, I cum too easily, and after a few minutes I just collapsed on poor Tom in a flood of juices, some of his some of mine, and we lay kissing for ages.

"Oh my god what am I going to do with you?" he asked.

"Breed the winner of Cannes 2030?" I suggested.

He thought about it and said, "Yes why not," he said and his manhood stiffened once again.


The End?
3 comments

anonymous readerReport

2013-10-24 16:41:19
abU46e Fantastic article post.Much thanks again. Much obliged.

anonymous readerReport

2012-09-17 15:47:45
A little hard to follow in places, but overall a very clever and interesting read. Some careful proofreading would really help.

abroadswordReport

2012-09-15 22:41:03
What a weird world you live in Angie, I almost believed in it myself, can't wait to read more of your stories.

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