The PonyGirl Dressage Competition 01

Part 1

*

CHAPTER 1: THE DRESSAGE MARE

Barbie appeared early, dressed in a strappy little black leather number that wrapped tightly around her lusciously enhanced body, emphasising her curves, dimpling the flesh of her gargantuan breasts and disappearing between her perfectly sculpted buttocks; the outfit may have been minimalist but it screamed 'dominatrix' even without the three foot long flexible riding whip she was holding and six inch stiletto heels she strutted into the yard wearing that had her towering above me. Barbie is a big girl in many respects and, while she may not quite live up to the measurements of the doll after which she was named she's a pretty good match and her breasts are proportionately bigger.

I was in the process strapping Bryony between the shafts of the chariot when the blonde arrived and my pert little red-headed pony was already hooded and restrained in a polo harness, her arms folded up behind her back, right hand pinned to her left shoulder and left hand to her right so that her elbows made a point just above the middle of her back and her shoulders were pulled back making her little breasts jut out proudly. She was wearing her new dressage boots; essentially ankle high toe boots with no heel that kept her right up in her toes and would have made her look like a ballerina if they hadn't flared slightly at the toe to give the appearance of a slender hoof. Even so, they were beautiful and had been made for her by her friend Cassie; needless to say, they locked onto her feet.

In the absence of dressage harness, I'd rigged a narrow girdle to fasten her between the shafts of the chariot. With dressage, it's all about maximum exposure; maximum access for the whip.

'I hope you're going to gag her.' Barbie said as I tried not so let my gaze linger too long on the blonde's enormous breasts with their obscenely huge, swollen nipples, let alone the sculpted tanned body which would have been perfect for a woman half her age.

I held up the bridle I'd been planning to use but Barbie dismissed it with the wave of a heavily ringed hand.

'You youngsters really don't get it, do you?' She said in a way that made me feel if I wasn't careful I'd be over her knee before I could say the words 'Yes Mistress.'

'Dressage is about looks and that begins right here!' She said as her partner, Charles, joined us struggling under the weight of a heavy canvas bag.

Barbie gestured for him to put the bag down and then bent over it taking away any mystery about where her crotch strap of her leather bodice went and displaying her multiply pierced sex in a way that left no doubt that she was wearing something very large inside her; two things actually; the crotch strap was threaded through the ring of a butt plug before passing through the rings piercing her labia.

Once a dressage mare, always a dressage mare apparently and Barbie had been one hell of a dressage mare.

I watched her unzip the bag and rummage for a moment before before pulling out a heavy duty leather head harness with the most massive ball gag I had ever seen attached.

'I'm not sure...'. I tried to protest worried that the ball might dislocate my wife's jaw but Barbie brushed my protests aside.

'No, you're not.' She said shortly. 'So get out of the way and let those who are sure get on with it.' With barely a pause, she said 'Open' and my little redhead pony obeyed with the diligent submission of a perfect slave girl.

My doubts were nearly proved right. The ball didn't go in easily and it was only several minutes of encouragement, and a good deal of levering that finally left the gag wedged between her teeth in a way that probably didn't need the heavy duty bridle to hold it there. This, however, didn't deter Barbie and she spent the next five minutes or so adjusting the straps to make them fit perfectly as saliva first began to trickle and then pour from my wife's mouth. The harness was in fact all superfluous even discounting the fact that Bryony would never have squeezed the huge ball out with just her tongue. My pony, wife and slave was hooded so the blinders were unnecessary too and, although there was a metal rod though the centre of the ball to make it look like a bit, dressage ponies aren't driven like this anyway.

However, dressage is, I was learning, about aesthetics and, this was a beautifully created bridle; all thick leather and brass buckles and rings polished to a sheen that sparkled in the morning light; a beautiful extravagance of bondage over the smooth leather hood which hid Bryony's features other than the red ponytail that hung loose from the back of her head. The bridle also had a mount for a plume and, bending over the bag again, Barbie produced a plastic tube containing a four foot white feather which she pulled out and mounted on the bridle before rummaging again to produce a thick posture collar which she proceeded to buckle and then lock around Bryony's neck; it curved to cup her chin and forced her head slightly back allowing almost no movement of her neck. Needless to say, it had a D-ring on the front by which a pony or slave might be lead if there were no other more convenient rings to which to clip a leash.

'There.' She said standing back to admire her handiwork. 'Much better.'

I had to admit Bryony or 'Sticky' to use her pony name, looked good, the harness over the hood, the flame red pony tail emerging behind, the massive gag that was making her drool; Robert Bishop would have been proud of such a creation.

'This will do for the moment.' Barbie conceded as she checked out the polo harness. 'It's actually quite cute but it's not a dressage harness. Her shoulders are too protected.' She gave me a wink and a mischievous smile. 'I'll leave it for now but it will have to be a lot tighter.'

I watched her pull the straps bringing Bryony's shoulder blades at least another inch closer and making her little breasts seem even more pert. I thought I heard Bryony give a little grunt but with the huge gag it was so quiet, I could only be certain because of a sudden eruption of saliva around her gag.

'I think we can improve on the girdle but I like the boots.'

At least I'd got something right.

'I take it her piercings have healed.' Barbie looked at me matter-of-factly despite the fact that we were talking about the new ring through my wife's clitoral hood and the line of rings now along her labia.

'Mmm...'. Bryony murmured with a slight nod.

Thwack.

Barbie's whip caught my pert little pony on the right buttock.

'I wasn't asking you, Mare!' The blonde admonished.

Bryony stiffened.

'Yes.' I said. 'The piercings have healed.'

'And she is suitably plugged?'

I thought Bryony's head nodded slightly but she kept silent.

'Yes.' I'd slipped the heavy eight inch dildo in after I'd hooded, harnessed and booted her then taken it out and fucked her over the kitchen table before replacing it and fixing it in place with a leather thong threaded through her piercings. 'But I don't see...'

'No, you don't.' Barbie's huge blue eyes narrowed in warning. 'That's why I'm here to teach you the rudiments of dressage!'

*

CHAPTER 2: PONYGIRL DRESSAGE

*

Dressage has a bad press in Mares-de-Launce where every thoroughbred young mare puts her heart and soul into winning the 'Mares' race. (There's some contention as to whether it's mares'; i. e. the the ones that run in; or the Mares race as in the name of the village; raise this at a committee meeting and the debate will go on all night). If a girl can't win the main event, she wants to be 'Queen of the Field'. Somewhere below this, and often talked about in derogatory tone with a role of the eyes, there's the dressage category which is often considered a last hurrah for mares that are over the hill but still want to be part of race day.

The event is not unlike four-legged equine dressage with the 'mare' being put through her paces by the 'knight' in a rectangular area with the knight driving his (and it is usually 'his') mare from a 'chariot'. Just like equine dressage, the mare is directed to perform a number of manoeuvres by use of the whip and rein including turns, sidesteps, reverses, figure of eights etc. and to undertake them at the trot (high stepping, of course), the dressage canter (which is essentially skipping) and the full gallop; dressage mares don't walk. As you might expect, points are given for exact turns and positioning and for doing these over the entire arena which is just as well because, despite the disparaging comments dressage receives, it draws a huge crowd and everyone wants to see a semi-naked harnessed mare high stepping in front of them in a way the makes her nipple bells jingle with every bounce of her breasts and flashing her pussy with every rise of the knee while she is mercilessly whipped by her knight. In addition to this, there are three pillars in the Mares' dressage arena which mare and knight must navigate, passing as close as possible to them without touching them and doing it, wherever possible at the gallop.

However, from reading the rules (as I had done several times in the two weeks prior to this first proper training session), I was beginning to realise the event was way more subtle and the scoring surprisingly complicated. For a start, the routine is done to music and points are also available for 'rhythmicity' and 'artistic interpretation', the latter of which is sometimes referred to as 'dressage aesthetic' or, in cruder terms 'sex appeal'.

Dressage mares are supposed to look good, from the moment they strut into the ring with that distinctive high stepping gait, head up, breasts jiggling and nipple bells tinkling. It is not referred to as a 'performance' for nothing. On race day, all mares like to look their best with polished harnesses and boots, gleaming buckles and a freshly combed mane and tail (most girls shave thoroughly and spend a lot of time on their make-up) but with dressage this is taken to extreme with bodies oiled, manes decorated with ribbons and tack that demonstrates their total submission. Barbie, of course, had taken things to the extreme of having her breasts and buttocks enhanced to improve the 'dressage aesthetic'; she'd even had work done on her face although, given that dressage mares are run hooded, that may have been for other reasons.

Needless to say, submitting to such intense domination; to be forced to perform what to all intents and purposes is an erotic dance naked and in bondage while being whipped is a sport for only the most submissive of mares and induces a profound sexual tension which according to the rules should 'be manifest in her movements and her responses to the whip and the rein'.

Barbie maintained that a good dressage mare would climax at least twice during her routine and a champion dressage mare would do it as she left the ring. This was something that I wasn't going to argue with; the buxom blonde was a reigning champion. She was also the woman who'd climaxed in front of a crowd of ten thousand people while being driven out as the mascot of Don Hernan's Caballeras Azuls; a performance which I considered wasn't bad for a woman the wrong side of fifty.

Dressage, I was beginning to learn was not a sport for those who still wanted to race in harness, it was a sport for those who needed to be kept in harness.

*

In many ways, it was perhaps only the popular misconception of the event that had kept Bryony from indulging already. That she was submissive enough, I had little doubt; that she was hot and horny enough wasn't in question either; I was fairly certain she could learn the dressage moves too; what worried me was the performance, the linking together of the moves and the dancing. However, I had asked Barbie to help me train her and I felt that was a good start.

The buxom blonde had already made a list of requirements and I had done my best to comply. This included, among other things, the genital piercings and the fact that Barbie wanted Bryony 'plugged' for training. With my little mare now tightly gagged too, there was only one orifice that needed attention and this was one that was well known in ponyplay.

I was dispatched to collect Bryony's tail and when I returned a few moments later, I found Barbie threading leather thongs through the fine rings in the tips of Bryony's nipples. I should probably explain at this point that my wife has two sets of piercings in each of her nipples and that she'd recently spent some time anguishing over what to do with them. Just before her polo accident in Argentina, she'd had a set of polo rings inserted, these consisted of the two finer rings which actually pierced her nipple near the tip (which Barbie was currently using) and two sets of heavier rings, one on each side in her areolae. In ponygirl polo the reins are attached to the outer heavy ring and then a fine chain or thong is fastened to the lighter, thinner ring in the nipple itself; the outer ring thus takes the weight of the reins and the brunt any overzealous tugging on the reins by an enthusiastic player in the heat of the match but it is the small ring in the sensitive tip of the nipple that really guides the pony. The inner rings of the set, the ones on the inside of the breasts are usually linked with a chain and, on larger breasted girls serve to stabilise the breasts; most polo ponies are, however, small and pert and thus I think the inner rings are almost there for aesthetic reasons; although they are also a good place to hang bells, lead a reluctant pony or to hold a girl against a post while she is whipped.

As well as her six polo piercings, Bryony still had her original Morrissey rings, the ones she'd had inserted when she'd decided she was going to win the Mares race. This had been a little over two years before when she'd appeared, a pert little redhead, on my coaching course and been rather vague about her 'sport'. I'd fallen in love almost immediately and, when she'd asked me for some private coaching I'd jumped at the chance little suspecting what I was getting myself involved in.

Morrisey rings are fairly heavy duty vertical piercings set deep into the areola behind the nipple and are designed to take a 'nipple bridle', a collared rod that links them, and reins are attached to the end of the rod in much the same way as reins are attached to the end of bit. Morrisey rings are worn by all the serious competitors.

There is a phase in Mares-de-Launce that 'a mare who's lead by the nipples is always obedient' which I think relates to the fact that a girl with pierced nipples has made a commitment to race and will give her utmost although it is, of course, also true in the literal sense.

Much as I enjoy the sight of a pierced nipple and, in fact, pierced pussy, there was now too much metalwork for her pert little breasts and she had talked at length about having some of the rings removed; the question was which ones to take out; she preferred the aesthetic of the polo piercings (as did I) but was very attached to her Morrissey rings and, when she was back to fitness, she hoped to have another crack at the mares race.

Whatever she decided, I was pretty sure she'd keep the small, fine rings in the tips of her nipples which, since their insertion have kept her little buds constantly erect and, by extension made her seem constantly horny.

It is, perhaps worth pointing out for those that are not familiar with ponygirl polo that most of the top clubs use nipple reins (a few use standard the standard bit and bridle arrangement) and each squad has their own way to keep their ponies responsive by ensuring the pierced nipple is kept highly sensitised. I hadn't done anything to specifically sensitise Bryony's nipples in the four months or so that she had had the rings but hadn't really felt I needed to. However, in the last week, I'd started to make her wear nipple clamps when she trained and, I'd made a point of biting those delicious little nubs to make her squeal each time we'd had sex.

It is important for a coach to be thorough.

*

I stood clutching Bryony's tail and watching her shudder as Barbie ran the thongs roughly through the little metal nipple rings before knotting them into two long loops to fashion a makeshift halter. As I've mentioned, Bryony is born submissive (though she's been known to take the dominant role once in a while) and being in harness always arouses her; all those leather straps tight on her body, the tight bondage, the discipline under the whip and rein. Much as she'd enjoyed running beside me in the Bad Madschen couples' race and serving Mistress Carter I knew her real desire for almost as long as I'd know her was to be an utterly submissive and totally dominated slavegirl; specifically, my slave. I'd done my best to fulfil this need in the past with variable success but we'd been together longer now and were married; we'd also been Mistress Carter's slaves together; I felt I had a pretty shrewd idea what she wanted and how to give it to her. Not only that, but the thought of owning her, which had once made me uncomfortable, now excited me intensely. In the two weeks since I'd started to assume control of her again and began her training for the dressage event, I'd seen a growing look of excitement in her eyes as it had slowly dawned on her that in training for the dressage event she was about to achieve her fantasy of being trained as what was essentially a submissive sexual plaything whose sole aim was to perform for the pleasure of others at the direction of her master.

I now realised that I really wanted to be that master.

'As you're both less familiar with dressage.' Barbie said, reminding me that I was there to learn too. 'I thought it would be helpful to have some guidance.' She gave a little tug on the two thongs now attached to Bryony's sensitive nipples and the lovely little mare took a tiny step forward gasping almost silently around the huge gag.

'Dressage is about utter obedience.' Barbie said bending to the bag again and somehow drawing my attention away from the harnessed pony girl directly in front of me. 'Here.' She straightened up and tossed me a small pot. 'I think you should be the one to put her tail in.'

I opened the pot to reveal a clear paste flecked with some kind of powder.

'What's this?' I asked somewhat warily. I'm a professional sports coach; I have to be careful around all kinds of well meaning potions and pills.

'Just lube with a few additives.' Barbie said with a smile. 'It's harmless.'

I knew she was lying and, even hooded and bridled, Bryony knew too. I could tell from the subtle way her body stiffened and her nostril's flared.

'Really.' Barbie said reassuringly. 'I can honestly say there are no performance enhancing drugs in there.' She shrugged. 'Well, nothing illegal. Charles always uses it when he slips my tail in.' She winked at her lover who was watching the whole thing with amusement and, I dare say, with more than a hint of pride.

I dipped the tip of Bryony's tail plug in the mixture and passed the pot back to Barbie. Then I stepped behind my helpless harnessed pony girl, wife and slave and pushed the tip of the plug against her bottom. She gave a slight grunt, spilling more saliva from her lips and took a step forward clearly trying to relax to accommodate the plug.

I pushed again and felt the metal plug slide inside.

'There's no clip on this harness.' I said.

'Doesn't need one.' Barbie said. 'A dressage mare should be able to hold it.'

She was dabbling the tips of her fingers in the lubricant pot and then I watched as she rubbed some of the paste across her thumb.

'Wouldn't want to get this anywhere too sensitive.' She said with a grin but it didn't stop her reaching out and rubbing the paste into Bryony's nipples.

Bryony moaned into her gag, her breathing a little deeper and I saw her press her thighs together clearly excited by this relentless progress into increasing bondage and total submission where others had total freedom to control her body.

Barbie put the top back on the pot and placed it back into the bag.

'Nearly done.' She stood again, this time holding up a handful of little bells and jingling them. 'A dressage mare must have bells.'

I knew this; it actually said so in the rules. I'd heard Bryony wax lyrical over it with her friend Cassie more than once in the pub; and that was long before I'd actually read the rule book. Barbie clipped one to the chain between the middle rings of Bryony's polo rig and one to each of her Morrissey rings.

'With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes...'. The blonde said with a laugh.

I thought Bryony might show her approval by shaking her chest as she often did when I belled her but she'd gone suddenly quiet, her breathing quickening even more.

'Just one more thing to attach.' Barbie said with a knowing grin. 'I assume you'd like to do that bit. Besides, I've got paste on my fingers.'

I had to admit I'd been looking forward to it.

*

CHAPTER 3: TOTAL CONTROL

*

It's probably time to explain a little more about dressage or, more accurately, how a dressage pony is controlled.

Despite the various bits and bridles and nipple rings used to control racing and polo ponies and even field mares, dressage ponies have a single rein and this is used largely as a brake or to make them reverse and, just as most serious racing and polo ponies have piercings to anchor nipple reins, dressage ponies have a clit piercing for their rein. It will attach to the crotch strap of a harness but, just as bit reins are a poor substitute for the exquisite control provided by nipple reins, a single rein is so much more effective when it is linked to a pony girl's most sensitive intimate spot. Field mares use them too and while Bryony's friend Cassie has been moderately successful in the field without nipple or clit piercings, by the nature of dressage, all serious competing field and dressage mares without exception in my experience have genital piercings.

Which brings me on to how one steers a dressage mare with a single rein.

The answer is, of course, by use of the whip.

In pony racing and, indeed in ponygirl polo, a stroke of the whip to the bottom of the buttocks/top of the thigh means go faster and a stroke to the top of the buttocks/lower back means 'don't slack'; where reins are used, they are usually shaken in encouragement too. In dressage, the start/continue strokes are used but steering is also done by means of the whip, a blow to the right sends the girl to the left and vice versa; good mare/knight pairs have a system that conveys to the girl the degree of turn required, using the whip on the side of the breast means a sharp turn, to the buttocks means a slower turn and to the side of the thigh, a sidestep. As a dressage mare is run blind she must be utterly tuned to her driver's directions and a driver must be very deft with the whip giving clear signals and correcting any over or understeer quickly.

Needless to say dressage mares end up being thoroughly thrashed both in training and competition. The first time I'd seen Barbie I'd thought she was being abused by Charles.

This is why I say that dressage is not just a sport for older mares who can no longer compete; it is one for those who are truly committed and would probably, given the choice, rather die in harness that grow old gracefully. It is a sport for submissive women, like Barbie, who are addicted to the thrill of being used and dominated and, not just a little hooked on the constant sexual arousal most ponies feel at being under the discipline of the whip and the rein.

*

It was thus with a great degree of pleasure I clipped Bryony's dressage rein to her new clit piercing.

I felt her shudder as I did it.

She was panting hard and we hadn't even started the training. As a coach and, even before as a competitor, I've seen athletes get worked up before training or competition, wondering if they will be able to achieve what they desire; be selected, win a medal or even just reach their personal target. I've seen Bryony like this too before both her mares' races and before the couples' race. This was, however, much more than that. I looked at her, gorgeously naked save the tack and restraints; hooded bridled and plumed; helplessly strapped into the polo harness that stretched across her shoulders and the top of her chest that with the posture collar made it look like she was pushing her little breasts out to ensure they were noticed as her body screamed her desire to be seen for the submissive slut she was; a helpless sex toy with saliva running freely from her mouth and down her body making her skin glisten, coating her breasts and their piercings and dripping from the little bells dancing from her nipples; a submissive mare restrained and harnessed to the chariot by the narrow girdle across her belly that provided no modesty; a hot slut who was plugged 'fore and aft' her tail wedged inside her as she stood in front of me eager to be used, restlessly balanced in her toes in the pony boots.

God I wanted to fuck her.

She was incredibly turned on; I hadn't missed the wetness of her sex, or the slick coating on her thighs that wasn't sweat or just saliva; her skin glowed with arousal her nipples were huge, and swollen, red shining beacons that looked like they might burn me if I touched them. I watched as she shook her chest a little, panting hard, more saliva running down her helpless body.

The bells jingled.

She began moving her legs, rocking on the toe boots, thighs brushing.

I heard her whimper.

'That's the effect we're after.' Barbie said looking at her creation.

Bryony whimpered again and Barbie stroked the tip of her whip over one of the panting pony's nipples.

'What's in that lubricant paste?' I asked.

Horny as she was, I doubted even Bryony could get quite so excited by this sort of treatment.

'Just a little chilli powder.' She winked. 'Don Hernan gave it to me personally.'

I bet he did.

'What?' She pouted. 'It's alway done it for me.'

Bryony appeared barely able to control her lust rocking on her boots and shaking her chest, panting, whimpering. Barbie gave her a hard slap with the whip across her lower belly leaving a red mark just above her pussy, something that was almost guaranteed to have an opposite effect from that one might expect.

'Save it for the judges it you horny slut.' Barbie hissed. 'You're going to have to learn to deal with this.'

'Mmmm.' Bryony nodded her understanding, a tiny movement in the hood and bridle and posture collar but the white feather danced on her head.

The fact that she maintained any discipline, any control at all over her body at being treated like this was remarkable.

'Shall we?' Barbie picked up the two cords she'd attached to Bryony's nipple rings and gestured for me to mount the chariot.

*

It felt strange holding the single rein and I had to suppress the urge to shake it in the usual 'giddy-up' fashion. In this context the whip felt odd too although I had been practicing with a dressage whip and was fairly confident of my ability. Practicing with a whip in Mares doesn't make you stand out quite so much as doing it elsewhere although, in the past couple of years I've discovered that there's a lot of pony play going and and I wonder why we don't bump into people practising more often.

'Trot on.' I said.

Normally, a knight doesn't talk to a mare when she is between the shafts like this but at some point in the history of dressage it had become a tradition. I should also point out at this stage that dressage mares are expected to go straight to the rising trot.

A gentle flick to the base of the right buttock removed any ambiguity.

Bryony responded beautifully, but then, of course she's an experienced pony (sorry, 'mare'); she also had Barbie leading her by the halter attached to her nipples. Whatever its origins, that the saying about mares being lead by their nipples was true. I noticed Barbie was at the rising trot too; old habits die hard.

We did one circuit of the yard, Bryony's legs pumping up and down with the regularity of pistons, toe boots 'clipping' if not 'clopping' on the concrete. It reminded me of my first lesson in Tom's yard just over two years ago with his wife Cassie at my side; my knowledge of pony girls had certainly come a long way in that time but dressage was new.

As we neared the corners, I used the whip on the side of Bryony's chest, trying to catch the flesh of her breast with the tip; I'd seen Charles do this with Barbie between the shafts although, of course, Barbie's breasts are a considerably larger target and when she puts her arms behind her back, especially when she presses her elbows together, the sides of her breasts are clearly visible in the silhouette of her body. I used the whip at the top of Bryony's buttocks too; a reminder to ensure her thighs came up parallel to the ground, hips and knees at right angles as she trotted.

If I have learnt one thing about dealing with pony girls, it is that achieving the perfect performance relies on the whip.

*

CHAPTER 4: LEARNING THE ROPES

*

Barbie cut me (and Bryony) a little slack on the first circuit but as we completed our trot around the yard (when I say 'we', I of course mean my perfectly harnessed pony girl/wife/slave and her equally perfectly packaged mentor/ex-dressage mare/part-time dominatrix trotting at her side) our training session began in earnest.

The trick when driving a pony is to keep a clear head and wear tight underpants to control the inevitable rampant exertion it brings on; just watching those tight buttocks, trim thighs and matching red ponytails (alright, mane and tail) swaying is mesmerising enough without a six foot blonde dominatrix in strappy black leather prancing at her side leading her by the nipples.

As we passed Charles who had settled watching his partner and personal pony girl from the shade of a bench under the awning for a stable block, Barbie got serious.

Thwack!

Without missing a beat the blonde's whip came down on Bryony's right thigh.

'This knee is too high.'

Thwak.

'No! Too low.'

Thwack, thwack, thwack.

'Better.'

Thwack.

This one was to Bryony's left calf.

'Keep this vertical, you're not playing football.'

She shot me a look.

'You're lucky this whip is only three feet long or I'd be chastising you too. Honestly, racing mares are so sloppy and as for their knights...'

I considered myself chastised, watching more closely the minutiae of Bryony's gait.

We were on the back straight of the third lap when I beat Barbie to it, snapping the whip at the top of Bryony's left buttock. 'Knees.'

Bryony obeyed instantly earning a slap to the top of her thigh when she overcompensated.

Barbie gave me one of her winks, a sexy flutter of false eyelash and a flash of her big blue eyes; it was enough to turn a man submissive.

*

After a dozen laps, changing direction once to ensure that both sides or Bryony's body were equally conditioned, Barbie was a little happier and Bryony's skin was flaring red with exertion and a rapidly expanding pattern of welts that she'd received from both Barbie and from me.

Before we moved on to the slalom poles, Barbie stopped my panting pony and called me down to look at my efforts; on the forehand, I was reaching my desired targets and the side of Bryony's right breast was flaring red where the whip had caught it on the turn; the left was less well marked.

'You must be consistent.' Barbie told me. 'Here!'. To emphasise the point she brought her crop down on Bryony's left breast exactly where she expected me to hit it with the tip of my whip. The bell hanging from her piercing jingled in response. 'Here.' She repeated and then did it again for emphasis hard enough this time to make both Bryony's nipple bells jingle.

Bryony simply panted round her gag, chest heaving, nostrils flaring, way too busy trying to breathe to make any sort of response. She was also drenched with sweat.

It was turning into a very warm May morning, she must have been glad of the light breeze though the yard.

I could see that her nipples were still massively swollen a mix no doubt of arousal, Barbie's halter, the chilli powder and perhaps even the breeze over her sweat and saliva soaked body. As well as the visible clues, her arousal was carried in her musk, the acrid scent of her body, her sweat; I had smelt and tasted it many times before and I knew her juices must be running freely down her thighs from the sexual torment she was enduring.

'Come on.' Barbie said gesturing a little threateningly with her crop. 'You can fuck her brains out later.'

I climbed back into the chariot and took up the rein again noticing suddenly that Bryony's first outing as a dressage pony had drawn quite a crowd. Charles had been joined on the bench by Tom, his wife Cassie kneeling beside him. Cassie was one of Bryony's best friends and had been her bridesmaid at our wedding. Goose and Justin had arrived too; Justin clothed and, as far as I could see not harnessed for the first time in a while though I guessed underneath Goose had him in chastity; a morning watching a pretty pony girl play dressage mare was going to leave him with aching balls. Even Eye Candy and Honey Pot had crawled out of whichever bed they had spent the night in (quite possibly the same one).

*

At Barbie's direction, Charles set up three plastic cones spaced the regulation three meters apart to represent the slalom poles on a dressage field around which the knight is supposed to demonstrate his skill at controlling his mare in tight turns between the elegant trots, standard manoeuvres and dance-like moves.

After the polo training we'd done the previous autumn and our subsequent trip to the Hacienda to learn more about it from the Caballeras Azuls I was pretty used to manoeuvring Bryony (or indeed any other pony I happened to be driving) in a tight spot; that was, of course with the advantage of reins and not to the exacting standards of dressage although I expect Maria-Argenta or one of the firsts would be able to get the positioning perfect even if it was with the use of reins. (Polo ponies are also driven blindfolded incase you didn't know).

I kicked Bryony off to a trot once again and Barbie lead her through the cones turning her slowly to criss-cross between them out and then back.

'Now try with the whip.' She called. 'I'll keep her pace steady.' She lowered her voice. 'And no slacking on that trot you lazy bitch.'

*

It was difficult, really difficult.

'Too hard... too high... too soft... use the tip of the whip, it must sting.' Barbie called as she used the halter to help me control my little mare.

We went through a dozen times Bryony trotting, guided more by her sensitive nipples than my crude attempts with the whip. By the end I was making a passible success of turning her to the left but my backhand was still weak and getting her to move right was much harder.

I pulled her disconsolately to a halt and shook my head.

'Don't worry, Mike.' Barbie said with surprising gentleness after her morning's tirade at my ineptness. 'It will come. You have the right approach and...'. She smiled and looked over at Charles at this point. 'The right chemistry.'

I nodded.

'Come on, let's take a break.'

While we'd been training Cassie had slipped into our kitchen and made a pot of coffee which she brought out on a tray with a jug of lemonade.

Like a good knight I thought of my pony and went to release Bryony or, at the very least take her gag out so she could have a drink but Barbie laid a hand on my arm.

'She's a dressage mare now. She's there to look pretty and do as she's told.'

I looked at her in surprise. It really was warming up and Bryony had been exercising for over an hour after almost the same amount of time being put into harness. On top of this she'd been doing it all on toe boots and that gag was brutal.

I really wasn't convinced that I should just abandon her.

'She's eye-candy.' Barbie told me seriously when I seemed unconvinced.

I thought about making a joke, Eye Candy, the mare previously known as Jackie, village slut and training partner of Honey Pot even had red hair this week though there was little chance of mistaking the two as she was a lot more curvy than Bryony. (Incase you're wondering it was Bryony's liaison with Honey Pot that had got her the mare name 'Sticky Fingers' - use your imagination!).

So I left her there, my wife of some four months now, standing harnessed and bridled and hooded and plugged wearing a tail and a plume and toe boots to be admired and possibly petted while I put my feet up and enjoyed a cold glass of home made lemonade hoping that Cassie had wiped the kitchen table down before she'd prepared it.

*

CHAPTER 5: THE CHALLENGE

*

There's a bit of back story you need to know here.

Bryony's friend Cassie is Barbie's daughter. This makes Barbie, as I've mentioned, just the wrong side of fifty but constant training and a new relationship (Charles is not Cassie's father) and a fair amount of plastic surgery have given the old dressage mare a new lease of life. In Mares, mothers are supposed to retire gracefully when their daughters come of age to race. In Barbie's case this has not happened which has lead to a simmering resentment on Cassie's part. We all know our parents are not supposed to have sex or, at least get embarrassed when the topic comes up; it's the same with Cassie; but of course in this case it's not just discrete visits from Charles for a bit of hanky panky, their relationship involved him driving her mother round the village in full dressage regalia with all the connotations that implies. Some of the village might still ridicule the dressage category on Mares day but everyone stops to watch what is essentially live pony girl (sorry, mare) porn; and that's in a village where pretty young girls get strapped in a harness on a regular basis both in the field and in the bedroom.

With mother and daughter both in the yard, there were likely to be fireworks.

'Hello, darling.' Barbie towered over her daughter in the huge boots.

Like Bryony, Barbie was sweating too, her exquisitely tanned body glistening in the sunshine, beads of sweat collecting on the edge of the shiny black leather of her strappy outfit and then running down it in little cascades.

'Mum.' Cassie always behaved like a sullen teenager around her mother even if she was old enough to have a daughter of her own.

'Will you be entering this year?' Barbie took a cold glass of lemonade and rather dramatically nestled it between her huge breasts sighing at the cool sensation against her skin.

'I might.' Cassie shrugged looking away in disgust.

'Would it help if I said I wasn't?'

Cassie looked up in surprise.

'If I'm coaching Sticky and Mike I can hardly train and enter myself.' She lifted the glass to her perfectly collagened pink lips. 'Besides, as you know, I'm standing for the committee.'

I saw Cassie swallow and heard the little buzz of conversation that had sprung up fall away. I didn't know everything about the village, I was a stranger here myself two years ago but I certainly hadn't heard anything about a mare standing for the committee; for all it's kinky affectation, Mares-de-Launce is a very traditional place; there hadn't been a woman on the race committee for... well, ever as far as I knew. Cassie and Bryony certainly waxed lyrical about it in the pub, usually when the conversation moved onto nipple reins, piercings and bells attached to various intimate parts of a girl's anatomy.

'I didn't know.' Cassie looked down thoughtfully.

Bryony maintains that Cassie was a good field mare and could be a champion if she put her mind to it but instead she just seems to find excuses either in the form of resentment regarding her sexually liberated mother or, more recently, the need to care for her own daughter.

'Just thought I'd let you know, dear.' Barbie smiled in a slightly strained way and turned to walk towards Charles.

She'd gone about half way when Cassie called out.

'Mum.'

'Yes, dear.' Barbie turned.

I might have imagined it but I thought I saw a slight smile creep across Barbie's perfect pink lips.

'If you're not taking part and Miss Carter is in Germany for the summer, who is Bryony going to compete against?'

The question hung in the air.

'I wouldn't have the faintest idea.' Barbie said with surprising tenderness despite what I thought was rather self satisfied smile crossing her face. 'But I'm sure her friends won't let her down. Little Sticky's been fantasising about being a dressage mare since she came of age. There must be someone who's willing to take on the challenge.'

And with that Barbie walked away.

She definitely smiled this time and, if Cassie had supplied us with canapes, I'm sure she'd have popped one into her mouth whole in that well hung trope shown by all good movie villains when their evil schemes are enacted.

*

CHAPTER 6: THE KITCHEN FLOOR

*

By the time the morning's training had finished, Bryony's skin was glowing, literally as red as her hair or, at least it would have been if the usual flame red ponytail emerging from her hood wasn't darkened and soaked with sweat, even her tail was matted and sweat-soaked. Part of the reason for her flush was, doubtless the sheer heat of exertion that literally radiated from her skin as a result of the exercises she had performed in the last three hours or so and some if it was in the direct heat of the late May day which was uncomfortable for all of us despite the very light breeze and not helped by the concrete of the stable yard in which I had been putting her through her paces. Some of her colour was also, I was sure, in response to the kiss of the whip which she had endured relentlessly and on almost every part of her body through one of the most brutal and demanding training sessions I'd ever seen anyone subjected to. The rest of her blush was obviously the fact that she had been doing all this in bondage with plugs in every orifice and nipple bells jingling on her sensitive piercings.

When questioned about my role in this clear case of domestic abuse I would point out that I'd allowed her thirty minutes in the middle of the morning to rest, albeit standing in bondage in the hot sun and that Barbie was the ringleader. For all her submissive tendencies, the huge breasted dressage pony had just proved herself a real slave driver and that the bits I couldn't reach from the chariot (belly, chest and pussy) were marked by a crop not a driving whip.

It was a wonder to me that my wife was still standing and not just because she was balancing on toe boots, hooded and tightly strapped into a polo sheath between the shafts. We'd trained hard for the couples' race and I'd pushed her for the mares' race but this morning had been intense making even the polo training at the Hacienda seem mild in comparison not just in terms of sheer exertion but in brutal and constant use of the whip. I'm used to pushing elite athletes to give their best and have never held back with Bryony either. This morning, as always, she had given her all.

As she stood on the brink of collapse and I thanked Barbie for the session, the crowd which seemed to have grown during the morning to include half the village, certainly those of racing mare age, began to disperse, heading no doubt for the Mare in Hand and a cold pint. It was way too early in the season for all but the strictest of competitors to abstain.

I was left with the sweating, panting, teetering mass that was my beloved wife, pony girl and sex slave; Barbie and Charles; and Cassie and Tom.

I thanked Barbie who dropped the crop into my hand. 'You'll need this.'

I doubted Bryony would ever want to be whipped again but, then again, she is remarkable resilient.

Barbie then patted Bryony on the bottom and told her she was a good girl.

'Remember.' She said. 'You're a dressage mare now. It's all about presentation.'

Bryony, I thought gave a tiny nod and, perhaps a slight hint of a 'Mmm.'

There was no saliva now; her mouth was clearly dry.

'Fancy a drink, darling?' Charles asked.

'I could murder for a cold Chablis.' Barbie said taking her hand off Bryony's bottom. 'Cassie, Tom, would you care to join us?'

Cassie and Tom looked slightly stunned by the invitation although, most of the animosity had always flowed from Cassie's side.

'Yes.' Tom said rather warily. 'We'd love to.'

Cassie leaned in and gave Bryony a rather nervous kiss on the shoulder just on the edge of the polo sheath.

'You stink, Sticks.'

Bryony grunted.

Then Tom swept his wife away and I was left to remove the huge gag before peeling my wife out of her bondage and making some attempt to revive her. I doubted she was in any fit state to make the pub which was a shame because I really wanted to see what Barbie was going to say to Cassie and join in the speculation of whether she or anyone else was going to take Bryony on in the dressage.

*

'Drink... then... fuck.' Bryony said when, after five minutes of struggle I managed to extricate the three inch rubber ball from between her teeth; that had been after licking her lips with a very parched tongue and wincing as she moved her jaw for the first time in nearly four hours.

I put the bridle and plume down.

'Actually, you fuck... while I drink?'

'Don't you want to come out of tack?' I began to undo the posture collar.

'No... want to be kept in tack.' I saw he smile even as she swayed dangerously in the toe boots. 'Dressage mare... eye candy... want to be...'. She wobbled and then her knees buckled.

I've seen athletes faint after a race before, I've also seen Bryony go down with a serious injury during a polo match. I knew the difference and I wasn't that concerned. I scooped her up and carried her into the kitchen, laying her on the cold floor and running some water into a glass.

'Have you fucked me yet?'

I turned to see her smiling up at me, at least I think she was smiling, she was still hooded.

'It must have been memorable.' I said sitting her up and tipping a little water into her mouth.

'Ohhh. This floor's lovely and cool on my bum.' She said as I held the water to her lips.

'Drink.' I said firmly.

'You're not getting out of it.' She admonished after swallowing. 'Sticky needs a fuck. Sticky's played pony for you all morning, the least you can do is fuck her.'

I kissed her on the top of the hood.

'It's too late for foreplay.' She said squirming in my arms. 'Pony needs fuck.' She spread her legs revealing the dildo still laced firmly inside her sex by her piercings. I realised she was sitting on her tail.

'There's something in the way.' I told her pressing against the bulge where her pussy lips stretched over the huge dildo.

'Please, Master.' He voice became serious, pleading. 'This dressage pony needs a good seeing to.'

'Well, if you insist.' I undid the lace and pulled the dildo out; it was heavy and slick and shockingly warm.

Then I replaced it with my throbbing cock and she howled with pleasure.

*

CHAPTER 7: MY SLAVE

*

There are some athletes that plunge into a bath of iced water after a work out; it reduces muscle damage and helps develop tone; it's also a great way for a coach to make life miserable for one of his athletes or players. In Bryony's case, I was a bit late filling the bath for obvious reasons and it wasn't as icy as it should have been but it did have the desired effect and, when she emerged, paler and close to shivering wearing a fluffy white towel and her collar she said she felt better.

I think she might have been expecting my to take her to the pub but I held up her chains. 'Oh!' She said.

I'd clearly touched a nerve and she looked at me with a flash of desire in those lovely blue eyes.

'Yes, Sir.' She let the towel fall and dropped to her knees sliding her hands behind her back. Even as I enjoyed the moment, I tried not to grimace at the sight of all those bruises and welts across her lovely body.

'Sir?' She knelt up arching her back and pushing her breasts out while keeping her head bowed.

'Yes, Slave?'

'Thank you, Sir.'

I smiled. I knew what she meant. There had even been a time when I wasn't sure I could do the master-slave thing but over the last year we had explored our relationship in all its extremes and I knew I now felt happy to treat my wife as the slave she longed to be (as well as being her loving husband and trainer, naturally).

'I am going to have to punish you.' I told her.

She started and looked up with an expression of sudden excitement and a little surprise.

'Sir?'

'You're a dressage mare now.' I told her. 'You're eye-candy and, at the moment, you don't look your best.'

I saw her register this, her lower lip curling in between her teeth as she thought about it.

Her hair was tousled, her face pale and there were dark rings under her eyes. She looked every inch an abused wife.

'Sticky's very sorry, Sir.'

'Just this once, I might forgive you.'

'Thank you, Sir.' Her voice was full of contrition, her head bowed submissively.

'But in future, I expect better.' I told her. 'You know what Barbie said; you're a dressage mare now and you must look and act like one. I'm expecting you to display your body like the sex object it is, something for the pleasure of of your master and for all he shows you to.'

She looked up sharply; her eyes were alive with excitement. 'Yes, Sir.' She said in a whisper.

'As your master I want you to look your best at all times. I you don't, you will be punished.' I've coached athletes. I know how it's done, just substitute 'look your best' for 'do your best' and change punished to 'dropped from the team'. 'If you let your posture drop you will be punished. If your make-up is not perfect, you will be punished.' I was getting into less familiar territory here but I was on a roll. 'Mostly, I will choose what you wear but sometimes I will expect you to choose and you will pick clothing that reflects your status as the pony-slut you are. I would expect you to wear mostly rubber and PVC although leather harnesses would be acceptable too. Whatever you choose, I will expect to have constant and free access to your body and, although I will probably keep you plugged a lot of the time. I expect to be able to enter you when I choose and I expect you to be ready for me.' This was a bit 'Story of O' but I was quite proud of it. 'I therefore expect you to keep yourself in a constant state of sexual excitement. If you do not do this, I will whip you far more soundly than I did this morning.'

Bryony kept her head bowed during my little speech and I suspected she might be grinning.

Yes, Master.' She said. 'Sticky is sorry. If master permits, she will go and make herself appear the object he desires.'

*

'Perhaps Master would care to inspect his dressage mare.'

She'd certainly taken my comments to heart, although clearly not the one about PVC and rubber but, somehow that didn't matter.

She looked stunning; red hot in fact; perfect make up, false eyelashes, crimson lipstick; her hair was curled and she wore a white bow in it; very different from the minimal slap she wore most of the time and very sexy even if I was a guy who often preferred the natural look.

Barbie would have been hard pressed to match it.

I guess it helped that she was a part time bondage model.

And then, of course, there was the collar, the perfect touch of submission; the white enamel one she'd worn at the wedding and when we'd trained together. Seeing it made me feel uneasy but I was being masterful and did my best to forget that a few week's earlier I'd been toiling in harness beside her wearing a matching collar. When Mistress Carter had released me, I'd taken off my collar but I'd left Bryony's in place.

She was wearing a baby doll type outfit I'd never seen before; at least she was wearing the top, it floated to her waist, hanging over her breasts and not in any way hiding them or her nipple rings. She was wearing stockings too and garters and white toe boots.

I watched as she dropped to her knees holding the collar out.

'I assume Master wishes to chain his slave?'

I did.

Bryony's chains are simple and elegant; a long chain that clips to her collar and runs down her body with cuffs half way for her wrists and then at the bottom for her ankles. Clipped to the front of her collar with her hands in front of her body she has a degree of freedom and allows her to crawl on all fours. Locked behind it restricts her freedom more, shorten the top part of the chain behind her back and her hands are lifted away from her bottom allowing her her to be spanked and, to some degree keeping her on her knees; shorten the lower part of the chain too and she is effectively hogtied. Personally, I a prefer the chain in front of her body; it even allows do household chores although I was beginning to realise that a pampered dressage pony might not be expected to carry out such menial tasks.

I took up the chains and after locking them to the front of her collar, cuffed her wrists and ankles.

'Thank you, Master.' She looked up at me. 'I hope your slave pleases you.'

I grinned. 'Not bad.'

I looked down; she was perfect, well, nearly; she had way too much metalwork in her nipples.

'It's the nipple rings, isn't it?' She said perceptively.

'They are a little over the top.'

'Morrisseys are suppose to be for life, not just race day.'

'I'm very fond of them but I don't think they are right for a dressage mare.'

'You are my master.' She said bowing her head.

I took that as her way of saying she left the decision to me. She certainly wasn't going to make the decision herself.

*

After such a hard morning, we spent what was left of the afternoon in bed. It wasn't as if she was up to much else but she was incredibly horny and despite our quick fuck after the session, so was I. It was as if the morning had been four hours of foreplay which to some degree it had.

With her kneeling in chains I told her she had to thank me for her training.

'Of course, Sir.' She grinned and crawled towards me.

However, there was one more thing I needed to do. Taking a belt, I slid it around her elbows and pulled them together behind her back. This is why I really love the 'in front' position'; restraining her like this makes her completely helpless, probably in many ways more so than when her arms are behind her back; with her elbows touching and her wrists in cuffs, her hands are pulled to her sides; she can still use them if she can reach anything but, importantly, can't quite reach anywhere on her own body; watching her strain sometimes is just delicious, her fingers stretching but only able to reach the edges of her breasts or her pubic area; it must be terribly frustrating.

Helpless like this, she was very eager to please me and she knelt above me as I lay back in the bed and demonstrated her significant oral skills. Bryony likes to be very good at everything she does and fellatio is something at which she excels. She looked gorgeous draped in the gauzy nightie, white and flowing against her once again hot, red skin and watching her go down over my very, very stiff cock time and again with those soft red lips and a little smile playing on her face would have been enough to make me cum even if she hadn't had me in her mouth. Having her in bondage with a chain locked to her collar and hearing her chains click as she moved was almost enough to make a man suffer premature ejaculation.

Fortunately, I managed to keep it together.

When the big moment came and I could hold it in no longer (probably as much a tribute to her skill as my self resolve) the release was sweet and surprisingly prolonged; what's more, my little dressage mare gulped it down like the good little whore she is.

The way she licked her lips was almost enough to bring me to full attention again and almost enough to make me offer to go down on her but instead I pulled her against me and teased her pert little body enjoying the response of her nipples; there is something joyful about playing with nipple piercings; then my hands slipped lower and I started to play with her other piercings as I nibbled her neck over the top of the collar.

She squirmed in my arms, her fingers brushing me teasingly, but I could tell things were not quite right; her body was still hot from the exertion of the morning, cheeks flushed and dry.

'What's the matter?' I asked, suddenly concerned. She'd nearly died four months before in the polo accident.

She licked her lips.

'I don't think I've had enough to drink, Sir.'

'You are a naughty girl.' I told her.

'I'm sorry, Sir it was all the excitement of dressing for you and...'

'And?'

'And sucking your cock, Sir.' She rolled over and grinned, the baby doll half way up her belly and doing nothing to hide her breasts even though it covered them. The scar on her belly from her surgery after the polo accident was a livid reminder of her vulnerability and I felt a twinge of fear and regret for using her so harshly. I climbed quickly out of bed and went down to the kitchen to fetch her bowl, bringing a jug up with me. When I got back to the bedroom, she was already kneeling on the floor. I placed the bowl in front of her and poured water into it.

'Thank you, Master.' She paused clearly waiting for permission to drink.

I gave it and she bent down lapping eagerly.

I don't know if you've ever tried it, but it's really hard to drink effectively from a bowl with your tongue. It is, however, fun and watching her do it was quite a turn on though I preferred to hold her more intimately as I fed and watered her. Most of the water went over the bedroom carpet and I soon had to refill the bowl. In the end, I took pity and released her elbows, allowing her to lift the bowl to her lips.

She drank three in quick succession.

'Thank you, Master.'

*

I gave her about thirty minutes, just lying back in my arms as I reflected I must be one of the luckiest men alive.

'Does Master like the outfit?' She said pressing herself against me.

'Yes.'

'I bought it for our wedding night but... well as Master might remember, other things intervened.

'They certainly did.' I remembered how I'd ended up chained to the bed and then somehow become a pony boy.

'It was fun training beside you, Sir.' She said. 'But I'm glad you're my Master again.'

We talked a little about the couples race and then suddenly she leapt up.

'Sorry, Sir. I really need to pee.' She ran to the bathroom as fast as her cuffed ankles and toe boots would allow.

*

A few minute later, she crawled back into the bedroom.

'I assumed Master would like his slave to be his pet too.'

We hadn't really done this sort of thing before but I'd seen a photoshoot of Redd Hot being a pet girl for Terry's new dominatrix and had been rather excited by it.

She crawled to the bowl and when she crouched over it placing her hands on the floor, her baby doll slid up (or is it down) doing almost nothing to cover her lovely pert body and I saw her arch her back cat-like as she'd done in the photoshoot.

I sat beside her and stroked her hair, thick and lush now.

'Would Master like me to purr?' She said giggling.

'I was thinking you might like to roll over and have your tummy tickled.'

'That depends on what you tickle it with, Sir.'

I knocked her onto her side and she lay on her back with her knees apart and her ankles puled up almost to her pussy; the baby doll now virtually around her neck.

The position give me a perfect view of her new genital piercings.

'Does master like his new pussy.' She purred.

'Master likes it very much.'

'And is master planning to try it for size?'

'I thought I'd already done that.' I lay down on top of her, sliding my cock into her easily. 'It seems to fit rather well.'

She arched her back and moaned.

'Oh god! I can't believe how horny I am.'

I felt her hands on my shoulders and sides of my neck as she wiggled herself into a position that took me deeper inside her. I could feel the chain to, pressed between our bodies.

'Oh fuck, that's good.' She pushed herself down onto me further.

I began to move my hips gently.

'Oh, yes... oh fuck yes.' She closed her eyes and bit down gently on her lip.

Her hands tightened on my shoulders.

I moved a little more. I'd just had a fabulous orgasm, I could hold back.

Her nails began to dig in... then rake over the top of my back. (Something that occurs less commonly in a B&D relationship).

'Of, fuck...'. She pulled herself against me and then sank her teeth into my chest.

I'd been a pony boy; I could take pain.

She bit me again and I thrust harder.

She came clinging to me, howling, her nails punching holes in my back and her teeth piercing my flesh.

Needless to say, I came too.

I only whipped her twice as a punishment. Dominant as I felt after the dressage session, I could see her wince in a very un-Bryony like way as I bought the whip down on her breasts.

I'm not a wimp, I just know how to treat my slave. It was also a reminder to keep my new mare in bondage and probably gagged too.

Besides, I liked the need she'd shown.

*

CHAPTER 8: NIPPLE RINGS

*

I let her rest on Saturday evening and then on Sunday put her back to work. Dressage mares might be pert and pampered but they need to maintain fitness. Thus I lead her out into the yard with her crawling on all fours in her chains between and wearing nothing but her dressage boots, and a tail. Then I put her in a harness and took her up the track. I added a few dressage variants to her usual tack, the gag of course, she was going to have to get used to the three inch ball, and I made her run hooded. As a dressage mare, I figured she needed to get used to the distraction of the dildo inside so I slid this in place and wound the leather thong between her rings to hold it there; keeping it in was almost certainly something she couldn't do without help. Then I pushed in her tail, clipped on her with nipple bells and whipped her out of the yard (at the trot, obviously - dressage mares don't walk).

She was considerably slower than usual although was of course doing the whole thing in dressage boots rather than her usual racing boots; I'm guessing her legs were pretty tired after the previous day too. Nevertheless, I made her high trot most of the way, only allowing her to drop her knees as she slogged up the final slope to the moor. Then I brought her back to the yard to do her stretches.

Bryony is pretty flexible but good dressage mares should be able to move like ballerinas; Barbie certainly can. I'd bought a stretching machine which for all its wholesome yoga vibes is a superb torture device that can be used to restrain a victim in all kinds of punishing positions; all you need are cuffs and chains or ropes. So, after her exercise between the shafts, she spent the morning sitting in the yard with her legs increasingly further apart, locked by her ankle cuffs to the infernal device and bent increasingly further forward to relive the strain on her nipple rings. I'm not cruel, I did allow her to use her hands and even cuffed her wrists the bar at the front to stop her slipping.

After that, I thought it best to stretch her the other way and put her in a tight hogtie including the famous hair-hitch where her ponytail was tied around her ankle cuffs. I just wished Robert Bishop had been there to sketch her.

She was clearly in the zone by this stage and when I released her, she didn't cause any fuss as I replaced her chains and had her crawl back into the house on her hands and knees at my heels.

I put bowls of water and food on the floor by the table and gave her permission eat, watching her crouch over it. In the past she's made quite a mess of herself doing this but then, she's usually had her hands cuffed behind her. However, down on all fours, my new sexy little pet seemed much more in control, eating delicately in what I suppose is the pet girl equivalent of perfect table manners.

When she'd finished she rubbed her lovely body up against my leg and seemed to enjoy it as I stroked her hair.

Then, in the afternoon, I put her into harness and walked her through the posts in the yard. She had clearly learned a lot in the previous day's session but was going to need someone on her nipple reins to get her moving properly.

And then, as she'd been such a good girl, I took her out to the pub for the evening. (Well, I had something else planned too).

*

As we emerged from the yard, the girl on the leash behind me was every man's fantasy in the form of the fetish model Redd Hott. I'd been a little surprised that Bryony didn't use her modelling name as her mare's name but then I'd discovered the incident with Honey Pot and 'Sticky Fingers' made perfect sense. However, based on Barbie's comments, I figured that a good dressage mare should probably dress like a fetish model so after she'd made herself up and done her hair I told her to dress in one of the outfits she uses in her modelling persona. I wasn't too surprised when she picked the one she'd worn a fortnight before when we'd indulged in a little role reversal and I'm willing to confess my heart skipped a beat when she strode in wearing the little red leather bustier and a tiny mini-skirt accessorised with black patent leather thigh high toe boots and fingerless gloves. The outfit came with an open face hood too. A weaker man might have dropped to his knees and licked those gloriously shiny boots (a weaker man had a fortnight before) but being the masterful sort, I restrained her with her 'chain set' using a high thick red leather posture collar and locked the chain to to her wrist and ankle cuffs down her back. I'd moved the wrist cuffs a little to ensure her wrists were held half way up her back meaning she tended to walk with her breasts and bottom thrust out and her shoulders back; it also meant she couldn't reach her bottom to protect it if I wanted to spank her; and, of course, the posture collar ensured she walked with her head up and her back straight like a proper dressage mare.

Following Barbie's example on the previous day, I lead her using a leather thong tied only on this occasion to her clit ring. I was dying to walk her with her tail in and if her new gag hadn't been a dressage bit I would have used that too but the rules said girls were not supposed to 'sport tack' in the village other than on race days. It may be a fine line but overstep it and someone somewhere would complain. If I asked I could simply claim we indulged in an alternative lifestyle and I was out walking my slave. Half the village was made up of submissive sluts; I would hardly be out of place; besides, it wasn't as if the rules weren't regularly bent to breaking point.

In the absence of a tail, I had made her stuff herself with anal beads and was looking forward to her response as I pulled them out slowly later.

She followed obediently, confident in the toe boots even with her arms restrained.

She must have wondered where we were going, it was too early for the pub, but like a good slave she kept silent and two paces behind.

I lead her up the hill and across the green to Tom's yard.

Still she didn't say anything although she looked at me quizzically as I lead her through the gate but she didn't resist; a mare who's lead by the clit is obedient too.

The yard looked the same as ever, a mix of conventional wrought iron work and, at the bottom of the end, an array of chariots designed for use with two legged ponies. There was no sign of Tom or Cassie.

Inside the gate, I pulled the gag Barbie had given us out of my pocket. She looked a little spooked but opened her mouth as I lifted it and did her best to take it though it took a good minute to get it between her teeth. I was strapping it in place when Tom emerged from one of the stables. He had clearly been working physically and was bare from the waist up, his powerful muscles rippling beneath his sweating skin.

I saw Bryony's eyes run over him appraisingly.

He extended his hand. 'Mike.'

'Tom.'

'I see you're making preparations.' He gestured to the gag.

Bryony pranced nervously on her toe boots. If she'd been a pony she would have tossed her head and nickered.

'Shall we go into the workshop?' He lead the way.

'Where's Cassie.' I asked as we walked across the yard.

Tom pointed to the stable he'd emerged from.

I could see the lovely Cassie in a harness hanging from a beam by her wrists.

'She's been a naughty girl.' Tom said with a smile.

We paused and Bryony looked over too. The buxom blonde was turning slowly; she was blindfolded and held a crop in her teeth; there were weights hanging from her nipples and, as she rotated, I could see red stripes across her ample bottom.

'I'll have to let her down soon.' Tom said with a smile. 'Poppy's due back at six.'

I thought I saw Bryony smile round her gag but her mouth was so stretched it was hard to tell.

*

'So you're serious about training her as a dressage mare?' Tom asked as we entered his workshop.

'She seems rather excited about the idea.'

Bryony clearly had an inkling of what was coming but there wasn't much she could do about it with her wrists cuffed behind her back and a huge gag in her mouth that literally prevented any comprehensible speech. Besides, her only hope of salvation was strung up by the wrists in the stables.

'Put her on the rack.' Tom rummaged for something in a box of tools.

The 'rack' was a metal frame that looked like an old metal bed frame raised at an angle of about sixty degrees. Bryony had, I knew been on it before, a little over two years ago when Tom had inserted her Morrissey piercings. In fact, half the mares in the village had probably been on at at some point; those who hadn't were the ones without piercings.

Bryony looked at me, her eyes wide and shook her head.

She looked beautiful, a cornered creature, prey.

'Slave's obey their masters.' I told her firmly.

She shook her head again. 'Ng.' She said though the sound was barely audible.

Saliva spilled over her lip and down her chin, running over the black rubber of the hood.

I pushed her back against the frame. She tried to struggle but she was wearing toe boots and her arms were chained behind her back; even so, I took a painful kick to the shin.

'You are going to pay for that.' I told her starting the fasten the heavy leather straps that were designed to hold the victim on the rack.

Then, when she was secure, I undid the front of the little leather bra.

Bryony had tears in her eyes.

Morrissey rings are for life. A girl does not have them removed, except perhaps at the end of her racing career. They have to be cut off. (The rings, not her nipples - we're not barbarians).

At least that's what I'd always thought, so had Bryony.

Actually, Tom had a key.

With Bryony secured by leather straps around her forehead, neck, chest, belly, thighs knees and ankles she wasn't going anywhere, she couldn't kick me either. Even so, she was shaking her head as best she could and squeaking into her gag as I undid the straps on her bustier.

Tom approached her with the biggest pair of bolt cutters I'd ever seen.

Bryony went wild, which is to say her squeaks rose to a clearly audible level and the 'rack' rattled violently. Redd Hott stayed where she was.

'So, Sticky.' Tom said. 'You have a choice.'

Bryony looked at him with wild eyes, the betrayal in her face evident.

'I can cut these off or...'. His words hung in the air. 'Or I can use this.' He produced something that looked like an Alun key from his pocket.

Bryony looked at it in surprise. She glared at me too. (To be fair, I probably deserved that kick).

'But if you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, I will...'. He paused unsure what to say. 'You will never get them back.'

Bryony's expression of terror faded then she visibly relaxed, then she nodded before glaring at me in a 'just you wait until I get you home' way.

Tom took hold of the large black ring in her right nipple and slid the key into it, twisting slightly. We were all holding our breath. The was the faintest of clicks and the ring popped open. Tom wiggled it and then slid it out of her nipple.

It was huge, an inch long and a quarter inch in diameter.

I'd had no idea how solid those rings were.

Tom released the second ring.

'That's interesting.' He paused. 'Mike. Could you pass me that lens on the workbench.' He reached out his hand and I looked around until I spotted something that looked like a jeweller's lens. I passed it to him and he brought it to his eye, clearly fascinated by something he'd spotted about Bryony's right nipple. 'Here, look.'

He passed me the lens and I struggled to focus on the tiny thin ring in Bryony's nipple.

Bryony gave a slight squeak of derision at two men examining her nipples with a lens but we both ignored her.

'Look at the ring.' Tom said. 'These are the ones from South America, right?'

'Yes.' I managed to focus on it.

I'd enjoyed the sight of them sparkling in her nipples as she trained; I'd enjoyed playing with them in the bedroom too but I'd not seen them in this much detail. They were clearly made of different strands of metal, twisted together and, when I looked closely, isolated from each other.

'Have her nipples been particularly sensitive since they were inserted?'

When I looked up I saw that Bryony was looking at him with wide eyes over her huge gag.

'I'll say.' I grinned. 'Not only that but when she does have her hands free she can't seem to stop herself playing with them.'

Bryony glared and then blushed.

'I see you've taken steps to prevent that.' Tom said with a laugh.

'Ung.' Bryony grunted into her gag either eager to know more about these little rings that had pierced her nipples over the last four months or fed up with her nipples being talked about like this.

'It's a common metallurgic technique.' Tom explained. 'Different metals have different potentials, put them in an electrolyte solution like human sweat and they produce a tiny current.'

Bryony was staring wide eyed at us.

'Instant and constant stimulation.' Tom laughed. 'I'm guessing you don't want these removed.'

'Ung.' Bryony shook her head so forcefully the bed frame rattled.

'Thought so.' Tom grinned. 'Must tell Cassie about these. I'm sure she'll be fascinated. Anyway, where were we? Oh yes...'

Tom produced two metal rods an inch long and a quarter inch in diameter and two bells mounted on what looked like tiny clasps.

'Keepers.' He said handing them to me. 'I made them specially. You should probably put them in.'

I smiled. They were surprisingly heavy.

'I imagine the bell is best at the bottom.' Tom said.

I lifted Bryony's right nipple and slid the first one in then I pushed the clip with its bell into place.

'It's the same key he explained.' Sliding it into his pocket. 'But I'm keeping it.'

I pushed the other keeper in and fitted the catch then I flicked the bells.

They tinkled rather musically.

'With rings on her fingers...'. I said jingling the bells again.

Bryony rolled her eyes.

*

CHAPTER 9: THE MARE IN HAND

*

We were in the pub twenty minutes later, Bryony still very intimately leashed. I'd left her top open to leave her nipples exposed.

'Mike!' Barbie was at the bar with Charles.

The big breasted dressage mare (ex-dressage mare) was dressed in a light and very short summer dress in her favourite colour, purple; she wore a steel collar and an impressive pair of white stiletto heels; it was pretty clear she wasn't wearing much else although I suppose she might have had a very delicate thong under the dress.

She appraised Bryony.

'Very nice.' She said, a smile creeping onto her face. 'Redd Hott in fact, if I may use the expression.'

'I thought it appropriate.' I said.

'Very much so.' Barbie reached out and touching my wife's nipple then she flicked the little bell beneath it. 'So you've taken the plunge.'

'I had to strap her down.' I said, quite truthfully.

'The bells are a nice touch.' Barbie flicked the other one.

Bryony glared at her.

'I think we should celebrate.' Barbie called out. 'Drinks all round.'

The usual crowd were there and a small but appreciative cheer went up. I gathered it was not the first round Barbie (or, probably, Charles) had bought. As expected at the beginning of the training season a number of the girls were in harness although all were 'discretely' hidden beneath light summer dresses; which is to say, bloody obvious. Nevertheless, except for the serious competitors, there was likely to be a fair degree of alcohol consumed this evening.

'Is that the mare Sticky Fingers sporting tack?' A voice asked.

All heads turned to a little man perched on a bar stool; he was dressed in a tweed suit despite the heat and sat hunched over half empty pint glass. I'd seen him around the village and I'd seen him chairing the judges on race day. He reminded me of D'Arcy in the Sweet Gwendoline stories; he even had a moustache and a monocle.

'She's not sporting tack, Mr Ambrose.' Barbie said. 'I'd say Mr James and his wife were simply enjoying the pleasures of an alternative lifestyle.'

There was a degree of good natured laughter, particularly from the younger mares and knights.

To be fair, I probably should have taken her gag out but I've always had a bit of a thing about girls in gags and I liked to see her in it.

'If I was chair of the committee...'. Barbie said rather loudly. 'I'd relax the rules on sporting tack.' She smiled and looked at Bryony. 'In fact, I'd make the wearing of it compulsory for dressage mares.'

This produced nods of approval, especially from the knights.

'I'd also remove the ban on using village roads to train.'

Mutterings of approval. Many mares and knights took to the woods but it was a lot easier to train on the road. Bryony was lucky she had the track up to the moor behind her house; for others, the need to keep off public road was more of a problem.

'The ban be there for a reason.' Ambrose said.

Barbie looked at him and then said pointedly. 'Indeed, Mr Ambrose but like many rules that reason has long since become unimportant.'

'You'll be havin' stallion races next.' Mr Ambrose adjusted his cap and laughed at his own joke.

'Is that a problem, Mr Ambrose?' Goose said rising to her feet. She wasn't as tall as Barbie but the still towered over Ambrose.

'The race is for mares.' Ambrose replied without a hint of doubt or humour.

As far as I knew, Justin was the only pony boy in the village, although all knew I'd dabbled. Surely, we couldn't have been the first knights to try racing from the other side.

'What about polo?' Someone asked. 'Can we have a regular match?'

Barbie smiled. 'I'm very much in favour.'

'No!' Ambrose said. 'Not while I'm chair of the committee.'

'Then perhaps it's time for a change.' Goose said coldly.

'We'll know come Sunday.' Ambrose lifted his pint and downed it then slid from his bar stool and left.

There was a long moment's silence then Tom and Cassie came in and the conversation jumped back to life.

*

Cassie had done her hair and was wearing way more make up that usual; she was clearly wearing her harness under a delightfully floaty white silk dress but did appear otherwise unrestrained apart from being collared and leashed.

'Tom... Cassie...'. Barbie smiled. 'I was just getting some drinks in.'

Cassie frowned but Tom pulled his wife in close as if to protect her or perhaps to show her who was boss. 'Of course, Barbie. Two pints of Hobbled Pony.'

With the tension passed, Cassie relaxed, looking around and favouring me with one of her dazzling smiles that is all huge blue eyes, dimples and full lips.

'I heard Stick's here was in full slap.' She said looking at Bryony. 'I didn't want her keeping all the attention.'

Bondage slut, eye candy as Bryony was that evening flashing her tits and wearing the open faced hood, tiny skirt and toe boots, Cassie drew the eye too. The neckline of the blonde's dress was low giving more than a flash of her ample cleavage and the material was thin enough to show the outlines of her large dark brown nipples. For those who liked these things (and I was pretty sure Cassie had attracted the attention of more than a few of the younger knights), the harness, collar and leash added that frisson of bondage. She knew half the pub was looking at her and I could tell that pleased her.

'Sticky!' She said expansively, hugging Bryony who, restrained and gagged had no choice but the accept the embrace.

Cassie then stood back, holding Bryony by the shoulders. 'You're looking ravishing.' Her eyes drifted down. 'I think you're better off without them.' Cassie stroked one of Bryony's nipples which gave its usual response.

Cassie had a point; Morrisey rings might be functional but they weren't elegant though they did have a certain medieval torture, shackled maidens vibe.

The scene took me back two years to what was probably my first visit to the Mare in Hand when all this had been rather new and Cassie had shoved her hands into my new girlfriend's bra to feel the recently inserted Morrissey piercings.

A saucy look crossed Cassie's face.

'There's just one thing missing.' Cassie reached into her bag and pulled out her lipstick.

I saw Bryony realise what was going to happen and take a step back but Cassie simply took hold of her leash.

'May I, Mr James?'

I gave control of my wife over to her best friend and occasional lover (previous lover, as far as I was aware); something that would have worried me intensely two years ago. Now I was entirely happy with it. I was also entirely happy to watch the buxom blonde rouge Bryony's exposed nipples the bend and blow in them.

Bryony's nipple rings moved all by themselves.

'Cherry flavour.' Cassie told me with a saucy wink. 'I'm sure you can lick it off later.'

She flicked one of the nipple bells then Tom passed Cassie her pint and the blonde took a healthy swig.

'Ahh!' She said. 'I needed that. Tom's been putting me through my paces in the yard.'

I suspected he'd been putting her through her paces in quite a different way in the stable too.

'Would you mind, Sir, if I took Sticky for a chat?' She said to me, still holding Bryony's leash.

'Be my guest.' I said.

'And may I remove her gag?' Cassie was putting on the full submissive charm she even fluttered her false eyelashes at me. 'Sir.'

'If you can get it out.'

Bryony shot me a look and then followed as her friend lead her to a vacant seat.

From the way Cassie was swaying her hips, the white dress sliding over her full buttocks there was no doubt she was flirting and I was pretty confident she wasn't doing it just for her husband. For all her rounded curves, Cassie has a very sexy way of moving, almost as if flirting comes naturally to her.

Leant against the bar Tom took a sip of beer.

'She's a bit in awe of Bryony, you know.' He gestured towards the two girls as they sat together and Bryony turned her head to allow Cassie to undo her gag.

'Really?' I was surprised. Cassie had a loving husband, a beautiful daughter and lived an idyllic life in a country blacksmith's forge even before one took into account her submissive tendencies and the fact she lived in Mares-de-Launce.

'Yes, she's jealous of the university thing and the careers...'. Tom took a meditative sip.

Bryony actually has a degree in accountancy and, of course, there's her modelling career as Redd Hott.

'And the Mare's race victories, of course.' Tom added.

'Cassie's a good field mare.' I said, staying on what I felt was the safest ground. 'With a bit of training...'

Barbie cut me off. 'With a bit of training, she'd be a bloody good field mare and if she stopped prevaricating I reckon she could win the dressage.'

We both looked at her but then a giggle from the corner drew our attention. Cassie had moved on to examining Bryony's other piercings.

Tom grinned then turned to his mother-in-law. 'Cassie's busy with Poppy and...'

'And she feels uncomfortable around me.' Barbie said. 'Win or lose the election, I'm not doing the dressage this year which means I can look after Poppy, I don't see why her mother should have all the fun.'

I was a little surprised. 'The glamorous Barbie and never shown any grandmotherly instincts before as far as was aware.

'I'll talk to her.' Tom took a long swig.

'Don't just talk.' Barbie said taking a swig of champagne. 'Convince! And I don't want any prevarication on your part either.'

*

CHAPTER 10: THE NEW KNIGHT

*

'Tom?'

Tom and I both looked round.

It was Justin.

'Hello Mike.' Justin looked almost as uncomfortable as he had on his arrival in Mares to find that everything I'd told him was true and not some kinky fantasy I'd made up. Though I had seen him a good deal more embarrassed since as his submissive tendencies had emerged thanks to his relationship with Goose.

'I'm Justin... er... Goose's... partner.' He held out his hand and Tom took it.

Partner/slave/pony boy/sex toy - delete as applicable but probably all of them. Goose appeared to have total control over my best mate... and he seemed to love it.

'I wanted to borrow or hire a gig.' He looked round furtively as if he was buying drugs on the street.

'A gig?' I heard the humour in Tom's voice.

'Yes.'

'You mean a chariot.'

'Yes.' Justin was getting flustered. 'A chariot.'

'May I ask who for?'

'Goose.' Justin stopped realising what he'd said. 'Well not actually for Goose, I mean she's...'. He stopped digging. 'Is it important?'

'Might be.' Tom said in that way that shopkeepers and mechanics do; comfortable in the knowledge that they know and you don't. 'I'll need to know the right weight, size... specifications...'

'Eye Candy.' Justin looked around. 'Goose is going to race Honey Pot and I'm driving Eye Candy.'

'Do these poor girls know this yet?' Barbie had been listening in.

'Um... yes, I think so.' Justin looked as if he might run away. 'Goose has arranged it.'

'Yes, and he'll be in full chastity while he's handling the little whore.' Goose appeared, shouldering her way in and glaring at me. 'Come on Mike, you were a newbie two seasons ago! Cut the man some slack.'

I considered myself chastised.

'It's fine.' Tom said. 'I'd be happy to help. I have one that would suit her perfectly. Can you come by the yard tomorrow.'

The conversation moved very rapidly into wheel bearings, tyres and axles and I found myself tuning out, turning to look in Bryony's direction.

Cassie had managed to extricate her fingers from my wife's pussy though she still had a hand on Bryony's thigh.

I couldn't resist wandering in that direction to overhear their conversation.

*

'So what's it like?' Cassie looked round as if to make sure they weren't being overheard.

Maybe she didn't see me or maybe she didn't mind what I heard.

'What?' Bryony seemed genuinely unsure what she was being asked.

'Dressage.'

'You know what it's like.' Bryony was being deliberately evasive.

'Sticky! I spent most of Saturday morning watching you parade that hot little body around your yard and I think you enjoyed every second of the attention. 'So tell me. What's it like being a dressage mare?'

Bryony shifted in her seat as if considering for a moment or perhaps she was settling the dildo inside her.

'Intense... heaven... hell...'. She looked up, a dreamy expression coming over her face. 'The whip is relentless and the dildo; you've run with a tail, you know that that's like; imagine having something constantly...'. Her voice trailed off and then someone walked past and then I heard more. '... the constant stimulation on my nipples... you've no idea how sensitive they are with these new rings; you've just got to breathe on them and....'

I saw Cassie smile, her eyes sliding down to Bryony's bare breasts.

'I mean, I know Barbie was leading me by those leather reins but I've worn bells on them before and...'. She was becoming very agitated and flushed. 'The thought of dancing around in front of everyone with bells bouncing around on them. I was so turned on by the end of that session I'd have wanked myself in front of everyone if I'd been allowed. I mean I've cum in harness before... proper harness I mean, not dressing up in the bedroom; but by the end of that session on Saturday they were constant, one little one after another, nothing earth-shatterng but a steady stream of climaxes that just left me... wanting more.'

Cassie suddenly looked in my direction. She was just as flushed as Bryony. I turned away quickly as if I was heading out into the beer garden.

'Do you think...'. Cassie faltered. 'Do you think I could do it?'

I could almost hear Bryony's surprise.

'Really?'

'You're right.' Cassie's voice fell and I imagined her hunching her shoulders. 'It requires too much commitment and I'm not really a very good mare.'

'Cass!' Bryony leaned forward. 'You mustn't put yourself down.'

'Anyway.' Cassie said changing the subject, a pained tone now clear on her voice. 'Who are you going to vote for?''

'Cass.' Bryony clearly knew she'd touched a nerve.

It was one of those rare moments when I think Bryony would have preferred not to be in bondage and able to comfort her friend properly.

'Who are you going to vote for?' Cassie repeated clearly uncomfortable with the subject of her performance. I could envisage tears in those big blue eyes.

*

I was pleasantly surprised to see Cassie at the kitchen door the next morning then I remembered her conversation with Bryony and I assumed she'd come to make up. She was looking as radiant as ever; her lush body still draped in the white silk dress but there was no harness underneath it now; in fact I was pretty sure there wasn't anything underneath it. Sticky was kneeling on the kitchen floor as I cooked breakfast; naked (her not me), of course, aside from her collar and her chains.

I'd given her a thorough seeing to when we'd got back from the pub, taking my time pulling out the anal beads as I tried to recreate that sensation she'd talked about in the pub of a string of tiny orgasms. It seemed to have worked judging by the little shudders in her captive body and her eagerness to please me. She'd performed well and I'd allowed her the indulgence of sharing my bed rather than chaining her on the floor. I'd left her in the open face hood and skirt and boots too although I hadn't left her gagged. She probably wasn't quite ready to wear it all night. I was going to have to take it out soon to feed her.

This morning I'd pushed it back in along with the dildo; I'd reinserted her tail too before leading her downstairs.

She still looked marvellous even if a little dishevelled.

'Good morning, Sir.' Cassie said as she came in eyeing me in my bathrobe. She grinned and curtseyed rather flamboyantly flashing her cleavage. 'Sticky.' She clearly took in that Bryony was still in last night's clothes too.

Sticky looked up and nodded. 'Ung.'

'Mum sent this.' Cassie held up a collection of black leather straps. 'It's one of her old dressage harnesses.'

I saw Bryony's eyes widen over the huge gag and I thought she might even have shaken her head a fraction. She was used to strict bondage but dressage harnesses are pretty brutal.

'We should see if it fits.' I said enthusiastically.

I removed the red leather posture collar of Bryony's chain set and replaced it with the far more extreme one that Barbie had given me on the previous Saturday. It looked rather good around her neck with her head still in the black rubber hood. Then Cassie fastened the harness to the ring on the back of the collar. It had a horizontal strap with two heavy duty cuffs for Bryony's upper arms which matched the collar and locked in place; by adjusting the strap under Cassie's direction I was able to pull Bryony's arms together so that her elbows touched. There was thick strap down her back from the collar with a series of thinner horizontal straps that would pin her forearms together in a very strict 'reverse prayer' arrangement; but first there were the mitts; these were sewn in heavy duty black leather and, again, locked in place turning her hands into little three-D triangles. Each mitt had a flat surface over her palm and there was a clasp to lock them together when I pulled them up behind her neck; then I clipped the tips of the mitts to the back of her collar and worked my way down the straps for her forearms. Cassie had to help me with this and, when I struggled, she helped by tightening the upper arm cuffs to pulls Bryony's elbows even closer together. Finally, there was a strap to go round Bryony's chest just below her breasts.

And that was it. The shafts of the chariot attached to the chest strap; her arms were completely out of the way and almost the entire side of her body was accessible to the whip.

'It looks good on her.' Cassie said as we stood back to admire our handiwork.

Bryony looked up somewhat sullenly. I've seen her in pretty tight bondage before but I wasn't sure I'd ever seen her arms so ruthlessly restrained. Standing in front of her, it was almost as if her arms had been removed.

'Mum says to use it just for a couple of hours a day at first but as she gets used to it you can keep her in it for longer.'

Bryony shot her a glare.

'In the build up to the race, you should probably keep her in it permanently. Mum says dressage mares don't need their arms.'

Bryony glared again.

I offered Cassie so coffee but she declined.

'I have to get back.' She said. 'I promised to go round to mum's later.'

This was unexpected, not just because I'd imagined Cassie would have loved to stay and play with my little helpless sex toy but the fact she was forsaking it to see her mother. Maybe they'd healed that rift.

I saw her out into the yard quite enjoying the way she looked me up and down as she left; then I returned to my dressage mare; kneeling in her hood, skirt and boots and utterly helpless in her reverse prayer harness. She glared up at me over the gag.

'You do hot like that.' I said.

I could see the strain in her body that the new bondage was creating. She continued to look up at me; her nostrils flaring with the sheer effort and intensity of her restraint. Then she lowered her eyes.

I'd been so distracted I hadn't noticed my robe had come adrift and my erection was poking through it. Bryony was more on that level. However, I had a feeling that Cassie might have notice too.

'You know what to do.' I said.

She rolled her eyes but turned her back and bent forward, placing her shoulders on the ground and her bottom in the air.

I lifted her skirt and pulled out her tail then knelt down behind her.

*