The PonyGirl Dressage Competition 02

Part 2

*

CHAPTER 11: THE OLD MARE

*

'So, who are you going to vote for?' I asked Bryony.

Justin had come over for a chat while I'd been eavesdropping on Bryony and Cassie in the pub a few days earlier and I'd never heard the outcome.

'Is Master commanding his slave to tell him?' Bryony said slightly tersely.

I didn't reply. I might be her master but in the world of Mares, she completely out-ranked me both by virtue of being born in the village and being a champion mare.

The Annual General Meeting to elect members of the Mares Race Day Committee was always the last Wednesday in May. It was also the opening day for entries to the mares' day events. Bryony, of course, had a vote and, having been in the village two years and a champion knight, I had finally got one myself this year.

So I was leading my dressage mare up the towards the village to the hear what the candidates had to say and to exercise my democratic right. Tonight Bryony or 'Sticky' as I was trying to remember to call her was my perfect two-legged pony again even if she had spent most of the intervening time when not training or getting used to her new harness down on all fours with her wrists and ankles cuffed. She'd had the dildo inside her almost permanently; after all I was expected to keep my dressage mare hot and horny.

It certainly did have some very positive advantages from my point of view.

Of course, it wasn't just my influence. Bryony was a woman who did nothing by half; if she was supposed to be the perfect pony, pet and slave and be in a state of constant sexual arousal, she would do it. Tom had told me that Bryony's pony name (sorry, mare's name) was almost 'Little-Miss-Perfect' and, rather like 'The Goose', it hadn't been applied in very kindly way. Girls can be real bitches sometimes. It was only the rather out of character incident with Honey Pot that had given her reprieve; that and the intervention of Cassie who had always stuck up for her less popular friend. Bryony, it seemed had always been a perfectionist and, reading between the lines, had never fully appreciated exactly how much Cassie had stuck up for her her while at the same time not holding back on telling the blonde of her successes.

Now, Bryony's sights were set on becoming the perfect pet and pony and she was well on the way to achieving this. I was getting quite used to hearing her nipple bells jingling as she slunk around my feet demanding attention. I'd even started taking her out for walks around the yard no all fours in the evening.

As with our previous trip to 'the Mare', I'd had her dress in the little red leather outfit (including the bra) and the thigh high toe boots and open face hood. It was definitely my favourite of her Redd Hott outfits and, despite the fact it reminded me that I'd once not been quite so dominant over her I loved to see her in it. Every now and then, when I glanced at the boots I still felt the urge to get down and worship her again. However, in these situations, a man must be strong. As before I'd removed her tail and had her replace it with anal beads. She might have been a little shocked the first time she'd had these pushed inside her but she certainly seemed to enjoy them now and, I knew, had used them once in a photoshoot since I'd introduced her to them.

Slowly but surely I was getting her used to anal.

In fact, she was pretty much submitting to anything at the moment; bondage, sex, training, punishment; she even remembered to ask permission to speak most of the time and, when she didn't accepted her punishment which was usually several hours wearing the huge ball gag Barbie had given her. It hung around her throat ready for use as she walked beside me on her clit leash.

*

The pub was as full as I'd seen it, even on race days and there was nowhere to sit. The hustings had just started and Mr Ambrose (great, great something grandson or nephew of the reverend) current chair of the Committee was saying his piece. Naturally, it was about the traditions of the village and respect for them; it carried a warning too, dismissing the legend about the village being under the protection of the dryad and talking of the risks of 'every wierdo in the country' pitching up on mares' day if we were too open with 'our tradition'. He had a point I suppose and I couldn't help feeling that with Miss Carter away, perhaps the village was vulnerable.

His reception was surprisingly positive, even from the younger mares and knights; not overwhelming but he was hardly booed off.

Barbie came next, dressed rather soberly for her in a white blouse and short tweed skirt. I wondered if this was something about appealing to the older generation, however, she still wore her usual six inch heels and her nipple rings were clearly visible through the blouse. She certainly had everyone's attention but then it's hard to ignore a six foot busty blonde in a short skirt and heels.

She began her talk by reviewing her CV from the point of view of the mares' day; her racing days and her more successful time as a field mare before reminding us of her recent victories in dressage. She also made passing reference to representing the village in South America though I was fairly sure everyone had seen the video of her trotting out as Don Hernan's mascot at the match in Buenos Aires and of her fairly obvious orgasms in front of a crowd of ten thousand people. She then moved on to talk about the Rev Ambrose and his desire to adapt the rules when needed; this was familiar territory; Cassie and Bryony moaned all the time though seemed to thoroughly enjoy all the apparent humiliations the randy reverend had imposed on the mares of the village in the last decade of the eighteenth century.

'He was a man who drove change.' She concluded in a speech I thought Charles might have had a hand in. 'And as times change, so must we.'

Despite her ardour, Barbie's applause was a little more muted. Perhaps in the third decade of the twenty first century, this sleepy little village wasn't ready for anything as radical as a woman chairing its most important committee.

Goose followed, standing for the role or secretary. She was matched against one of Ambrose's cronies and it's fair to say she wiped the floor with him in the subsequent debate. It would take a braver man than me to argue with the Goose although I was going to thoroughly enjoy ribbing her for taking on the title of 'secretary' if she was elected. (From a safe distance, obviously).

There was apparently no contest in the election for treasurer until suddenly Eye Candy stood up and grew her cap into the ring (metaphorically, obviously). There was a procedural objection, naturally but in a surprisingly astute move, the little mare asked for a general vote which according to the 1832 amendment was legitimate. The crowd were excited by this point and the motion was carried.

*

I looked up from the dressage entry form I was completing to see Bryony being handled freely by Dirty Dancer as they stood in line to cast their votes. A few minutes ago it had been Honey Pot. Being touching intimately was a pretty common occurrence for Bryony, especially when there was nothing she could do to prevent it. I wondered briefly how she was going to vote without the use of her hands but assumed she could probably mark the paper with a cross by holding a pencil in her mouth.

It was at that stage that Cassie and Tom appeared.

I'd noticed earlier they weren't there and assumed it must have something to do with the feud between Cassie and her mother even if things had sounded better at the weekend.

They made quite an entrance or, at least Cassie did. The bouncy blonde was wearing a white leather bustier and matching knickers; there was a posture collar too and her arms were clearly restrained behind her back in a single sleeve; her thigh boots had six inch heels and forced her onto the tips of her toes. A huge white ball gag filled her mouth. I could see a blonde tail swishing behind her thighs.

Tom was grinning and Cassie, beautifully made up was radiant.

Heads turned as she entered and a quiet spread across the bar; even Bryony and Dirty Dancer looked up.

Tom lead his mare towards me pulling a piece of paper from his jacket pocket.

'Thought I'd enter the dressage this year.' He announced to me and the assembled crowd as he posted his entry form in the box on the table in front of me. 'Don't want you and Bryony getting all the glory.'

I thought Cassie might have smiled, her cheeks certainly moved but her glossy red lips were stretched so widely around the huge gag in her mouth that it was hard to tell.

'I see the mare Swallow sporting tack in the village.' A voice said. Ambrose. 'The committee will have to discuss such misconduct. It could result in disqualification.'

Tom and Cassie had taken a bold step although, if I knew anything (and my knowledge of the committee's workings were hazy) she'd probably get off with a warning this early in the season.

'We're here to vote too.' Tom said rather pointedly pushing past the little bureaucrat in a way that made Ambrose take a step back despite his usual terrier-like tenacity. As a blacksmith, Tom is a big man even if he is a gentle giant.

'It won't do you any good.' Ambrose called after him. 'No-one will ever be stupid enough to let a woman on this committee.'

It was a tactical error; like one of those moments when the politician leaves his lapel mic on. Barbie wasn't exactly a lauded celebrity but she was well known in the village and was respected. She was also a woman and, on balance, at least half the competitors were also woman. Slaves to the whip and harness they might be but most of them had at least heard of feminism.

Ambrose's comment thus triggered a few shocked gasps and a lot of dark muttering particularly from the line of mares queuing to vote.

*

CHAPTER 12: THE NEW MARE

*

Half the village turned out for Cassie's first training session; more than had been there watching Bryony by the end of hers the previous Saturday. This might have had something to do with the fact that it took place in Tom's yard which sat in the middle of the village but was probably also because the couple were well known and well-liked in the village. Although Bryony and Cassie had grown up together, Bryony had moved away to university and then done the unthinkable of bringing an outsider into the village. (Like I say, I'd only just got a vote and there were still grumbles about 'the mare Sticky Fingers' using a professional coach).

And, of course, there was the pleasure of watching the buxom Cassie trot round the yard with her mane flying, tail swishing and, obviously, various other parts of her anatomy in fully motion too.

Barbie lead her; the new chair of the committee was dressed today in the purple harness and dressage boots she'd worn when she'd won the event two years before. It was just as well Cassie was hooded from the outset, if her mother wanted to out-dress her she had probably succeeded; the collar, slim girdle and ankle high dressage boots left almost nothing the imagination and, while Barbie might be just the wrong side of fifty, constant training (and the help of a plastic surgeon) was still paying off. Many women dream of having a body like hers; many men probably dream a similar thing.

Cassie's dressage harness was made of white leather. I guessed she'd made it herself. Unlike many dressage harnesses it had a small quarter-cup bra that supported the blonde's ample breasts and restrained them with a single strap over the top; the girdle connecting her to the shaft was in the typically narrow dressage style but, unlike most dressage girdles had a strap passing between her legs that ran down from her collar and was tightened deeply between her buttocks; it appeared Cassie was not yet fully committed to her dressage career. Her nipples were 'virgin' too although she was wearing a silver bell clipped to each one. Her boots were beautiful in white leather and, of course she wore a white leather hood over which was buckled her bridle, equipped with the huge ball gag she'd sported in the pub on the Wednesday evening. Needless to say, her tail matched the blonde mane cascading from the back of the hood. Her plume was white.

The training was much the same except that Barbie lead her mostly by a leash to her collar albeit supported by a halter type arrangement clipped to her nipple bells. Bryony had been right, Cassie moved with incredible grace and the gentle sway of her lovely rounded bottom and bounce of her deliciously large breasts all added to the allure. I knew that stamina had always been a problem for Cassie and as she tired she had a tendency to make errors. By the time she was allowed a rest she was panting hard and lathered in sweat although, of course, she was working to pull Tom who must weigh quite a bit more than me. Barbie seemed pleased with her daughter's efforts though and gave her a gentle pat on the bottom as the blonde mare stood with her nostrils flaring and her rather impressive chest heaving.

Bryony had been watching closely and, from the way she was moving, was clearly enjoying herself.

'I wish I could move like that.' She said pressing her lovely leather-clad body against mine. She was dressed as Redd Hott; posture collar, black open face hood, red leather bra, micro-skirt and toe boots. Today her arms were sleeved, elbows touching; the ball gag hanging at her neck.

'You're technique's better.' I told her, slipping my arm around her shoulders.

'She's more 'artistic', Sir.' Bryony shrugged. 'It's always been like that; I was the straight-laced scientist, she was the arty one.'

'We'll beat her.' I said confidently.

'She was always more popular than me.'

I was a little shocked by this statement and the way she said it which seemed to contain a degree of resentment. Whatever their past had been, Cassie and Bryony had been nothing but the closest of friends while I'd been in the village. When I'd first come here, I'd been anxious that they were too close and Bryony was more gay than straight even if she had let me into her bed.

In terms of competition, Bryony's fitness was way higher even following her accident and enforced lay-off. I had a feeling technique would win out over style.

We watched her in silence for a few minutes.

'She's so beautiful.' Bryony said suddenly. 'And look how everyone's watching her.'

I had to admit she was right, Cassie was the perfect (full bodied) pony girl in harness, standing there between the shafts where Tom had left her, hooded and obedient, rocking slightly as she maintained her balance in the dressage boots.

'I've always preferred redheads.' I said.

'Bullshit!'

'I think you mean 'Bullshit, Sir'.'

'Yes, Sir.' She leant her head against my chest.

*

Cassie wasn't left alone long.

Honey Pot and Eye Candy suddenly appeared, at once obvious by the clatter of their heels on the cobbles of the yard and their giggles. Honey Pot looked as if she might be heading off to work later and was wearing a little linen suit and heels; she also wore her usual thick make-up; Eye Candy (sporting purple hair today) was a little more relaxed in a leather miniskirt and bustier.

They soon noticed 'the mare Swallow' standing obediently between the shafts of Tom's chariot.

'Ooooh.' Said Eye Candy. 'Someone's left a mare here.'

They giggled and Eye Candy tapped one of Cassie's nipple bells.

'Looks like a dressage mare.' Honey Post said tapping Cassie's other nipple bell.

'Certainly built like one.' Eye Candy cupped one of Cassie's large breasts.

'There's one way to tell.' Said Honey Pot looking down.

'Do you think anyone will mind?' Eye Candy said.

'Shouldn't think so. Anyway she's a mare.'

Eye Candy slid her hand between Cassie's legs.

I saw Cassie sway a little more and toss her head.

'No.' Said Eye Candy. 'Not a dressage mare.' She wiped her hand on Cassie's breasts.

'Isn't there a rule about impersonating a dressage mare, Madam Treasurer?' Said Honey Pot mischievously.

Like Barbie, Eye Candy had been elected too; for that matter so had Goose. For the first time in it's history, Mares-de-Launce was being run by an all women committee.

'There should be a rule against it.' Eye Candy hooked a finger in the halter that hung from Cassie's nipples.

'She should be punished.' Said Honey Pot reaching into her handbag. 'It's just as well I have this.' She pulled out a studded paddle.

I wondered briefly if Honey Pot always carried such things it her handbag. From my previous experience with her, I suspected she did. It certainly explained why her bag was so large. I briefly wondered what else she might do for her boss in Exeter aside from running the office.

Eye Candy lead Cassie by the nipples towards Tom's office. It had a hitching rail outside for securing bridled mares (the four legged ones prior to shoeing) and a number of strategically placed rings on the uprights supporting the roof for securing ponies (the two legged ones) more elaborately. I'd had my first lesson with the whip using a spreadeagled Cassie there as my target.

One might have thought Tom would object to his wife and mare being appropriated in this way but he stood watching good-naturedly along with the rest of the crowd. Bryony had told me that being used and abused by strangers was one of Cassie's fantasies and while the girls were hardly strangers, I guessed she was almost certainly enjoying being humiliated like this.

After freeing her from the shafts, Eye Candy bent a surprisingly willing Cassie over the hitching rail and put her foot on the nipple halter pinning Cassie in place. Honey Pot lifted the mare's blonde tail to the side.

'No piercings and nothing inside her.'

'What a poor excuse for a dressage mare.' Eye Candy said. 'She needs a good spanking.'

Honey Pot brandished the paddle theatrically and then brought it down hard on Cassie's bottom. The sound of the slap echoed around the yard.

'One.' Said Honey Pot as Cassie grunted.

She landed the paddle again, Cassie's bottom wobbling beautifully. The crotch strap offered no protection, it was pulled so deeply between her buttocks that most of it wasn't even visible.

'Two.' The assembled crowd joined in. 'Three...'

Cassie took six of the best and then the girls returned her to Tom.

'You really should get her pierced.' Eye Candy said as she passed the halter to Cassie's husband.

Cassie shook her head.

'We tried.' Honey Pot said to Eye Candy with a shrug. Then she looked at Bryony. I felt Bryony react but didn't see exactly what she did. Honey Pot winked before turning back to Cassie. 'You know, proper dressage mares like Sticky have them, don't you?' She leant in closer. 'And you know why she's always horny?'

Cassie stiffened slightly but after flicking her nipple bells one final time, the girls left her alone, kissing their goodbyes before Honey Pot tottered from the yard and Eye Candy disappeared into the assembled throng.

Then Tom hitched his wife back to the chariot and Cassie's dressage lesson continued.

*

CHAPTER 13: OLD RIVALRIES

*

Barbie had won the election but hadn't yet tabled her motion that dressage mares were allowed to sport tack in the village. However, precedent had already been set in terms of them exhibiting their 'alternative lifestyle' and it was clear that minor infractions of the rules with regard to sporting tack in the village were likely to be overlooked under the new regime.

I thus continued to take Bryony to the pub looking red hot in the tight red skimpy leather and open face hood and, that evening, we were treated to another view of Cassie arriving soft and sultry in almost as little white leather. Both were, of course, strictly restrained and tightly gagged.

Both were wearing tails.

And it was there that it happened. What happened, I can't say, a look, a movement, some sort of simmering tension surfacing but as Cassie entered looking beautiful, buxom and blonde there was a sort of silence and heads turned. I saw her look at Bryony; fit, toned and dressed to kill standing leashed at my side; and I saw Bryony look at her. Considering they were both tightly restrained, leashed and securely gagged you might have thought there was little that could possibly happen but something passed between them.

I'm not sure I really recognised the significance at the time but I'm a man, what do I know?

However, whereas I might have expected Cassie to come over and them to nuzzle and probably want to be ungagged then disappear off into a corner, they stood and looked at each other for a moment then Cassie turned more sharply than any tug on her leash would have necessitated and followed Tom to sit at a table with, of all people, her mother. I thought Bryony looked slightly shocked and almost tearful for a moment, her lovely blue eyes were certainly shining more than usual but it can be hard to read a girl's expression when she has a three inch rubber ball wedged into her mouth and a clinging rubber hood round her face.

I admit I was slightly puzzled but then the Bryony I know and love seemed to return and she spent the rest of the evening flirting outrageously or, at least, being as lewd as a tightly restrained, gagged and leashed sex toy can. There was a lot of hip swinging and bending low to show off her little breasts and significant encouragement to get everyone to play with her nipple bells.

'Just wait until I get you home.' I told her. After three pints I was trying to control my libido and she was gagging for it.

In return she gave me look of 'I'm not sure I can wait that long' and we hurried down the hill almost running in our haste to get home.

It was another kitchen table moment, her putting her ankles almost behind her head as I pulled out the large dildo that was pretty much a permanent fixture now and shoved myself into her hot dripping pussy, the leash still clipped to her clit ring. She howled into her gag as I thrust hard and then hooked her legs around my body, a sure sign she wanted to be hoisted up on my cock like I'd done the very first time I'd visited.

She came before I did, rubbing her cheek against mine as she mewled into her gag and when I did let her slide off my cock she dropped to her knees and gave me a 'come to bed' look over her shoulder that looked just like something I'd seen in her publicity photos. I picked up my whip and chased her up the stairs striking her bottom as she climbed them, her tail dancing just ahead of me.

On the bed she knelt with her bottom in the air, clearly giving me the message that she wanted it from behind but when I brushed her tail aside she mewled again and shook her head.

'Are you saying you want your tail out?'

She nodded vigorously.

'And after that?'

'Ug y az.' She screaming into her gag.

'Are you asking for anal sex?' I teased.

She nodded again, her red hair dancing wildly around her head, shimmering against the shiny black hood.

I pulled out her tail and replaced it immediately with my rapidly stiffening cock. Wearing the tail almost constantly had made her ring slightly looser but it was still beautifully tight.

'Annggg.' She whimpered. 'Ezzz. Ahhhe.'

I interpreted this as 'yes, harder' and it seemed to be what she wanted from the way she rammed herself back onto my cock as if she was desperate and when I gripped the leash still attached to her clit to slow her down she whimpered and shook her head violently, red hair flying and nipple bells jingling madly.

I came quickly despite my climax downstairs no more than ten minutes before, pleasure erupting through my deeply buried cock as I spurted inside her and I think she came too; she certainly grunted a lot. Then, afterwards we stayed like that, gasping until I slid out of her and she rolled over onto her back, parting her legs; her red hair spread around her like a halo and look of need in her eyes that was unmistakable.

I'd seen that expression on her website too.

'Want me to untie you?' I asked, grinning and guessing the answer.

She shook her head.

'Are you asking to spend the night in bondage again?'

She nodded and when I clipped a chain to her collar she seemed to purr with satisfaction.

*

CHAPTER 14: TRAINING MY DRESSAGE MARE

*

'I want another one before dinner.' I told Bryony.

'I'm trying, Sir.' She looked up from where she was kneeling on the kitchen floor. She was dressed in her Redd Hott outfit, the leather bustier undone leaving her nipples exposed and the short skirt which, from the way she was kneeling with her legs apart left nothing to the imagination. She wore the boots and the gloves too, and the hood; lovely, shiny and black.

Since the night with Cassie in the pub she'd been even more focused on her training and even more intensely submissive; expecting to be utterly dominated both between the shafts and between the sheets and everywhere in between. I like to think I'd risen to the occasion. She'd always aspired to be a perfect racing mare and now, as a dressage mare, she wanted to be perfect too and that involved following Barbie's advice of total submission and constant sexual arousal.

I'd chained her with her elbows touching behind her back with a belt buckled tight around them; her wrists were cuffed together in front, the chain tight across her belly so that her hands, still in the shiny black fingerless rubber gloves were pinned at her side. In this position, there was no way she could play with herself except that the chain that ran down her belly from the centre of the one linking her wrists to her ankles was also clipped to her clit ring. She had little movement but there was just enough to tease herself gently. If I hadn't made her have at least six orgasms earlier in the day, it would probably have been relatively easy for her to climax; she was, after all, a hot little slut displayed as she should be be, kneeling submissively in bondage. On one occasion she had cum without permission but she had worked for the other five and I'd thus given her a little additional help in the form of thumb cuffs with chains running up to her nipple rings; though she couldn't reach her breasts, she could tease her nipples using her piercings by moving her thumbs.

She'd been at it for thirty minutes though and there were about fifteen minutes left until dinner was ready.

'If you don't make it I'll spank you.' I told her stirring the pasta I was cooking.

'Perhaps you could do it now, Sir.' She looked up at me, shifting in her bonds, her wrists moving up and down steadily, thumbs twitching. 'You know how Sticky loves a good spanking.' She was quite breathless and her frustration was showing in her voice.

'I suppose I could put you over my knee but what's the point in having a hot little dressage mare if you don't heap a bit of sexual torment on her once in a while?'

'Yes, Sir.' She flashed a smile and the bit her lip in concentration. 'I can see that, but if you put me over your knee, we'd both enjoy it and the dinner wouldn't be late.

'Or I could sit here and eat dinner and starve you until you cum like the slut you aspire to be.'

'You could try gagging me, Sir. You know how I like something in my mouth when I cum.'

'You are a filthy minded slut.'

'I do my best, Sir.' She smiled and squirmed again. 'I've got to be a whore if I want to beat the other mare.'

And that was when I realised it; she hadn't mentioned Cassie's name since the incident in the pub.

I went back to dinner, watching her out of the corner of my eye.

Looking back, she had certainly become more obsessive about her training since then; begging to be 'treated as a dressage mare should' and 'subject to the whip and the rein'. She'd asked to be kept where possible in the huge gag and the punishing dressage harness. It was working too. She was pretty used to Barbie's gag; in fact, just like every other part of her under the new regime, her jaw was getting more flexible. It was much easier than it had been to slide the huge ball in and out. Her increased tolerance had made her better at deep-throating too; or perhaps that was just wishful thinking. Her arms and shoulders were adjusting to the punishing dressage harness and she'd spent the whole of the previous day training in it. She had barely been able to move her arms when I'd finally released her but, to he honest, hadn't really tried and just submitted to the relative laxity of her red single sleeve at bedroom tightness for the evening.

Perhaps if I hadn't deprived her of the use of her hands for most of her waking hours, she might be having more success in her current predicament.

It took her about ten more minutes and, in the end, I knelt down in front of her and, kissing her gently, played with her nipples. She gasped once and shuddered; it wasn't a big one but I was genuine.

'Thank you, Sir.' She gasped.

*

When I was first training Bryony, I enjoyed feeding her, preferring to have her sit in my arms while I put forkfuls of food in her mouth. It was a way of relaxing at the end of a hard day's training and, it gave me the pleasure of wiping or licking food off her body when I dropped some; occasionally she'd have to lick it off me instead. The intimate contact was much nicer than having her chained on her knees at my feet; I'd also preferred it to watching her crouch over a food bowl with her hands bound although seeing her face when she came up covered in food always made me smile. Bryony's pretty fastidious and seeing her smeared in pasta sauce and unable to do anything about it was, despite her protests, a humiliation I enjoyed inflicting on her.

Under the new discipline, however, I'd decided I should feed my slave properly with her kneeling beside me subject, as always to strict discipline. With dinner served, she thus crept forward to kneel, legs spread, back straight, tits out, head up (her bondage and the posture collar ensured there was no slacking) with her wrists cuffed to her clit and her thumbs to her nipples and opened her mouth when I commanded allowing me to place some meat in her tongue.

Then I left it there.

It tasted good (even if I say so myself). I took several more mouthfuls and looked down at her. She hadn't moved, still kneeling with her mouth open and the food on her soft pink tongue; I could see the sauce running down the tip of her tongue, pooling in her saliva which was starting to run down her chin. She'd trained hard, she must be starving; I certainly was.

Her eyes flicked up to meet mine.

I took another mouthful of food and looked down at her again.

The food was still there.

'You may chew.'

She did so immediately, swallowing quickly.

'I didn't say you could swallow.'

She looked up, blushing.

'I'm sorry, Sir.'

'Don't worry.' I said taking another mouthful. 'I'll punish you later.'

'Thank you, Sir.'

I gave her another forkful and let her chew it.

*

Saturday dressage practices had quickly become regular engagements in the village calendar and the next Saturday we were back at our place. I was surprised to see Tom arrive with Cassie in full rig harnessed between the shaft of a gig.

'It's been agreed.' He told me driving his lovely blonde mare into the yard.

Cassie was adorned with a plume, nipple bells and tail though still had the crotch strap on her harness.

'As of this morning, dressage mares may sport tack in the village once entered for the event.'

He pulled Cassie or, perhaps I should say Swallow, to a halt and climbed down from his chariot.

Bryony was already in harness and, luckily, therefore hooded; standing between the shafts although, helpless as she was, there could be little doubt in her mind about who had just arrived. My sexy mare had been excited about the prospect of another lesson with Barbie but I could see from the way she stood there was something not quite right and I guessed it was something to do with the sexy blonde mare that had just trotted into the yard.

I knew now there was something wrong; as well as her obsessive focus on training she continued to talk about 'the other mare' rather than Cassie.

That morning I was sure I'd caught her looking over her shoulder into the mirror as she practiced walking in what was a passable imitation of the way Cassie did it.

This morning, Cassie looked in fine form, very fine. Bryony couldn't have seen but Cassie's movements were already more precise and, superimposed on her naturally rhythmic movement were very graceful, particularly when accompanied by a flying blonde mane with matching tail, the bounce of her lovely large breasts and the clip-clop of her boots on the concrete surface of the yard just added to the effect.

*

After dismounting the chariot and giving his buxom mare the obligatory pat on the bottom which earned him a sensuous nuzzle from the tightly restrained and hooded blonde, Tom went back to the chariot and lifted out some sort of metal frame.

'Hope you don't mind.' He said setting it down at the side of the yard. 'Got to keep her motor running if you know what I mean.'

The frame supported a vertical metal shaft and I had a feeling I knew exactly how it was going to keep Cassie ticking over. Having set it up, he released her from the shafts and led her over to it. Then, he unbuckled her crotch strap and had her straddle the pole which he slid up to her sex. Cassie was clearly wearing something inside her, presumably of a phallic nature (Eye Candy and Honey Pot would, no doubt be pleased by this development even if she wasn't pierced) and the top of the pole locked onto this. Next he buckled the dangling crotch strap to the front of the pole ensuring that whatever Cassie had inside her was firmly held in place; just to make sure she didn't wander off, he clipped rings on her dressage boots to the pole.

'What do you think?' He asked stepping away.

'Will it keep her amused?' I asked, fairly sure of the answer.

'Can I borrow your whip?' Tom held out his hand and I gave him my crop.

Thwack!

He brought the crop down hard on Cassie's breasts.

Nipple bells jingled and she rocked violently, I could hear the slide of metal.

Cassie gasped.

Tom stepped behind his wife and brought the whip down hard on her buttocks. Cassie bucked again, arching back; again nipple bells jingled and the metal rod slid on its mount. He thrashed her twice more; fore and aft and she bucked again in response. After that, with the phallus sliding in and out of her sex, Cassie didn't need any more encouragement and I watched her lean back and forwards again essentially fucking herself with the phallus on its metal pole. Tom helped her anyway, circling her and striking her on the thighs, belly, back and shoulders.

'Spring loaded.' Tom says. 'She has to work to pull it in.'

Cassie mewled as she twisted and squirmed under the blows but her excitement at being treated this way was obvious.

'I don't think you'll have a shortage of volunteers to keep her ticking over.' I told him.

'You want to try?' Tom said with a grin.

He passed me the whip and after glancing at Bryony, I brought it down hard on Cassie's lovely round breasts enjoying the way they bounced and the nipple bells jingled.

'I hope you're managing to keep Bryony on her toes too.' Tom said teasing one of Cassie's nipples as I moved to her buttocks.

'Oh, I think she's up to the task.' I said bringing the crop down hard on her lovely round buttocks.

Cassie yelped into her gag but there was nothing she could do about it. Like Bryony, she was helpless, her arms restrained in the reverse prayer type arrangement of her dressage harness even if it wasn't quite as strict as Bryony's.

'I could knock another one of these up for you.' Tom said clearly enjoying the sight of his wife being driven to orgasm by another man. 'I've got some other designs in my head that I'd love to try.'

'That might be fun.' I whipped Cassie again and and heard her gasp around her gag as her body shuddered.

Tom smiled and stepping back beckoned me over.

I hung the crop on Cassie's nipple ring for others to use and followed him.

'Is Bryony ok?' Tom asked in a low voice.

'I think so.'

'Does she mention Cassie at all?'

'There does seem to be something going on between them'. I said.

'Agreed.' Tom frowned. 'I've never seen Cassie like this. 'It's almost as if she's become as obsessive as Bryony.'

'They are both competing.' I said. 'It wouldn't be the first time athletes had fallen out over a potential medal.'

'I don't like to see her this way.' Tom said.

'It probably isn't healthy.' I said. 'But I'm not sure what I can do.'

'Maybe it will blow over after race day.'

'Maybe.'

The others were arriving and Cassie was drawing a crowd. I heard a thwack as Eye Candy took up the convenient whip.

*

This Saturday's training was largely about dressage moves. As a racing mare, Bryony was used to going forwards as fast as she could or, technically, as fast as she was permitted. Like most racing mares she was headstrong and usually needed pulling back although there were times when nothing but the full gallop was demanded by unremitting use of the whip.

I love my wife but sometimes tough love is important; besides, there's something very satisfying about landing the whip just right on a pony girl's straining rump.

She had trained as a field mare for a season when she was younger but more recently had learnt a lot about turning and even reversing while training as a polo pony and, I think, had developed an increase in her agility as a result. When I say 'she', I of course mean 'we'; there is just as much technique involved in guiding a polo pony as being one (I know, I've been on both sides of the bridle). Driving a polo pony is actually way more exciting than driving a racing mare; there's so much more you have to do and to think about and you have to do it all with the distraction of nubile young ponies running on all sides.

I was really looking forward to training her in the dressage manoeuvres although, of course, we were both going to have to learn a whole new set of controls including the new single rein.

As before, Barbie rigged up a halter through Bryony's nipple rings and helped to guide her through the manoeuvres using her crop to emphasise her commands and ensure that my pert little mare did everything with the required posture, lift of her knees and degree of obedience.

It was surprisingly difficult and by the end of the morning we were both feeling quite frustrated. Not surprisingly, Bryony was feeling sore too. She might have pretty tough nipples from the fairly constant abuse they suffer but the rein tugging on her recently pierced clit was completely new to her and, while she tried to be obedient, my control of it may not have been as reliable as we both would have liked. In my defence, pulling on a girl's clit rein while whipping her to guide a reverse turn requires a lot of coordination.

By the end of the morning I'm sure I heard what were a number of heavily muted expletives as I tried to take her through a reverse figure of eight.

Barbie certainly heard them and delivered a suitable chastisement with her crop, something which only increased her frustration more.

Given Bryony's current state of mind, it probably didn't help that quiet moments in the training were occasionally punctuated by the slap of the crop on Cassie's bare flesh and her moans of pleasure as the blonde writhed, more or less completely oblivious to her surroundings, in helpless arousal on Tom's cleverly constructed pole.

*

CHAPTER 15: SPORTING TACK AND SPORTING CONTESTS

*

Sporting tack for dressage mares was, even under the new regime, optional but there were two mares who were not given a choice. After Barbie's landmark ruling, the two mares in full dressage rig became a common sight around the village. Full rig, of course, included the full face hood, tail and plume and, naturally, the dressage 'sheath' holding them in the full reverse prayed position. The two mares were thus, when out, kept in a constant state of bondage. Tom and I kept them gagged too even on visits to the pub which we hoped would save a lot of trouble.

Tom's 'engines' became part of their training regimens too, much to the delight of the racing crowd in the village who turned out regularly on Saturday mornings to watch Barbie put one or other or even both girls through their paces. After Cassie being used as a whipping post in our yard during Bryony's training, the next Saturday saw Bryony in an identical position and creating a similar queue of people willing to ensure that while Cassie trained, the lovely Bryony never hand a dull moment.

Two weeks later saw the two mares side by side in the beer garden of the Mare in Hand riding identical poles while money changed hands on which girl would orgasm first. In case you're interested, it was Cassie in the first contest then Bryony twice then Cassie and finally, much to Bryony's chagrin, Cassie on the final round. I came home twenty quid poorer but with a wife who had the sudden urge to prove to me that she wasn't 'frigid' so the loss was more than made up for.

Tom subsequently produced a horizontal version of the poles too onto which a girl on her knees had to rock back and forth to pleasure herself. Needless to say, both girls were encouraged by liberal use of the whip and, in a clever twist proposed by Eye Candy, had to do it with elastic cords on their nipples meaning they had to stretch them to take the phallus fully inside. This was probably a little unfair on Bryony as Cassie's breasts were significantly larger allowing her to stretch further. However, they did bounce more which caused the clover clamps on the blonde's still 'virgin' nipples to tighten rhythmically. Bryony thus actually fared slightly better and on that occasion I came home nearly twenty quid richer and with Bryony on a high and eager to show me what a good little mare she was.

*

When not providing entertainment for the racing crowd, we trained intensely, Bryony in constant bondage, some sessions with Barbie but mostly just the two of us. After learning the basics of dressage control I spent some time developing and then 'fine-tuning' until my directions with the whip were precise. I knew it had been a good session when there were specific bright red areas on her flesh, usually the sides of her breasts the tops and bottom of her buttocks and part way down her thigh and this was confirmed later in bed when she didn't wince every time I thrust into her. As we progressed, her responses became attuned to the whip and the rein so that her movements were as precise and predictable as my directions and slowly we managed to move around the yard forwards and backwards, turning as needed and weaving between the poles as the trot, the canter and the gallop.

Needless to say, her body was constantly covered in welts and bruises; the sides of her little breasts and the tops of her buttocks particularly inflamed and sensitive. Even when I got it right, there were times when the pain of the whip was intense and more than once I heard her gasp particularly when I caught the side of her breast. However, the worst was probably what Barbie called 'bell-ringing'; using the whip to ring her nipple bells as she ran. This is obviously done 'blind', there is no way the driver can see the target and all he can do is hook the tip of the whip around the girls' body and hope that it catches the bell and not the nipple itself. In practice, it is almost impossible to be certain except that a well trained mare will run at a constant rhythm and thus, an experienced driver will be able to 'know' where the bell sits.

After a few weeks, at Barbie's direction, I fitted larger and heavier nipple bells and used the nipple paste on a daily basis. I also kept her almost constantly in the dressage sheath. She wanted a bigger gag but, try as I might I just couldn't get it into Bryony's mouth despite her obvious desire to take it. The muscles of her jaw had clearly stretched like most of her other muscles; (she could now keep her ankles behind her head for more than just sex) and her ability to deep throat was beyond a man's wildest dreams.

Bryony approached it all with her usual intense focus and this time with the focus as much on submission and sexual tension as on her performance between the shafts she channeled her inner slave every waking hour. She might have been hooded and gagged when Barbie had talked about what was expected from a dressage mare but she'd clearly taken it all in and this was a her chance to be the perfect pony and slave she'd always fantasised about.

I like to think I did my part and, after my previous misgivings about 'owning' her.

There was no abstinence with this training regimen; if dressage mares were supposed to be hot and constantly horny and Bryony wanted to be the best, I certainly wasn't going to let her down. Thus, although I sometimes chained her in the stable at night (once or twice strapped to Tom's pole), I mostly chained her in my bed and made use of her as often as I could manage which, given the situation, was startlingly less than she appeared to want. I was nearly tempted to resort to viagra but, although I knew it worked, the athlete in me just wouldn't allow it. I did, however, become proficient in the use of a number of sex toys and even went down on her a few times. I know it's not very masterful but I love the taste of her body and there really is something very satisfying about flicking a clit ring with your tongue and hearing a helpless girl scream into her gag as she begs you to let her cum.

*

We went to the pub regularly too; something we hadn't done in previous years leading up to a race. It was a huge pleasure leading her in, harnessed and hooded and being greeted by the sight of harnesses gradually appearing under dresses and bodies tone as training became more serious and race day approached. Bryony strutted her stuff, perfect in full harness, walking on her toes in the boots, blind and leashed. She'd been a bondage model for six or seven years and when gagged and restrained she knew exactly how to display her body in the way she stood and knelt and as she walked on the leash.

Cassie was often there too doing pretty much the same thing but in a softer, more playful, 'Cassiesque' way. The situation between them probably remained as frosty as they had that night after Cassie's first dressage session; Bryony certainly continued to talk about 'the other mare' and when the two of them were in the room together, there was a slight stiffening in Bryony's posture and, I think, Cassie was tense too. I guessed it probably was a passing feud and would blow over but as they didn't spend any time together or even talk (they spent all of their time together hooded and gagged) things didn't change. I did broach the subject of Cassie a couple of times as I locked Bryony into bondage for the night but was told that everything was 'fine' with 'the other mare' even though it clearly wasn't. This was usually the reason why she spent some nights in the stable.

Master I might be but when Bryony had set her mind to something there was little chance of changing it and, with her focussed on the upcoming completion, I didn't push it; besides, she was utterly attentive to me, literally giving me free and unfettered (pun intended) access to her body. I'm not obsessed by anal but I do enjoy it and finding myself more than satisfied with the opportunities I had to indulge.

Professionally speaking, this was uncharted territory. I've coached for a number of events and can be a tyrant when I need to be but this was very different. Mostly, it was a lot more personal; I'd never had such total control over anyone before even Bryony; or perhaps, more accurately, I'd never taken it; now I did and I was thoroughly enjoying it.

*

CHAPTER 16: THE DIRTY DANCER

*

In the weeks leading up to the competition approached, we began to put together a routine. As with equine dressage and gymnastic floor shows (sorry, I mean floor exercises) particularly the rhythmic gymnastics, dressage is about getting the techniques right and then dressing it up with music and dance. I'm sure it's more subtle than that but, as this was our first year, that's the way we were approaching it; the set moves and then the 'artistic interpretation' which included for want of a better term 'sexiness'.

The problem was that, while Bryony was slowly mastering the technical moves and even the posture and steps and was a natural on looking good; she didn't move in that sexy, sultry way that Cassie did and, when we introduced music, I suddenly discovered she had a very poor sense of rhythm. After the stretching I'd introduced she could drop into splits and even lift her leg vertical to flash her pussy like the best erotic dancer but she struggled to do all this in time. Even trotting across the yard to music seemed to be a problem for her.

Barbie worked her hard making her pull me across the yard repeatedly calling out the beats as Bryony's legs pumped up and down in the high trot under the encouragement of the blonde's crop. Slowly, she began to get the hang of this but the dance moves proved elusive.

We thus turned to 'the mare Dirty Dancer' who'd got her name when she'd taken a job as an erotic dancer in a Plymouth nightclub the day after her eighteenth birthday. She'd won Queen of the Field two year's previously when Bryony had won her first mares race.

Dirty Dancer was a luscious brunette who had the body and looks you'd expect for a pole dancer; glossy chestnut hair in a short bob, deep brown eyes, full mouth with a perfect smile and a body that was gently padded to give it soft curves over a very tight frame; the club she worked for had allegedly payed for her breast implants which gave her the appearance of a porn actress. She was, in fact, perfect dressage material.

She was also (cliche alert) a genuinely lovely person. The previous year, when we'd started playing polo Dirty Dancer had offered to be Claire's mare and the pair of them had subsequently become an item. Until Barbie had overturned the ruling about 'sporting tack', she had been the only one who the committee had turned a blind eye to; Claire was in a wheelchair after an accident and, pragmatically, getting around the village with the help of 'The Dancer' (or 'Little Miss Dirty') was something of a lifeline. Not that Claire was helpless, she'd trained Fawn to win the mares race on several occasions and, under her influence, Dancer had become be a serious competitor. It was probably fortunate for both Bryony and Cassie (or, perhaps I should say 'Sticky' and 'Swallow') that Claire was training Dancer for the mares race this year; if she ever took up dressage both of them would be in trouble.

She came into the yard at the full rising trot looking every inch a perfect dressage mare even if she was in a traditional racing harness and sheath. Her tack was made of soft blue leather and looked gorgeous against her tanned skin. She'd had her nipples pierced since I'd last seen her and the sight of her reins dancing around her gently bouncing breasts was a beautiful sight to behold.

Claire drew her to a halt beside me, making her 'mark time', high trotting on the spot so I could enjoy a full close up before taking her forward so she could shake my hand.

'How are you, Mike?' She asked with a warm smile. I'm sure the last time I saw you, you were in harness yourself.'

I frowned and turned away to study Dancer's rear view and gently swinging tale.

'A bit of variety is good for us.' I said.

'I know, but I never expected Sticky to go in for dressage.'

Dancer was still high stepping and Claire leant forward and touched her bottom with the whip as a signal to stop her.

'What do you think.' Claire nodded at the now still pony.

'The piercings?' I walked down to take a look.

'Yes.' Claire said.

Dancer was standing as still as a pony can stand in racing boots, that is rocking slightly to maintain her balance; her impressive chest was rising and falling gently from the exertion of pulling her mistress. She stared straight ahead, eyes fixed on the horizon, knowing herself under scrutiny. Unusually, for a racing mare she wore an open faced hood under her bridle and a fairly extensive girdle that was more like an overbust style corset lifting her breasts and reaching down to the flare of her hips; except, of course, being a harness, it had small holes for her nipples to poke though. Her nipple reins were clipped to a ring sewn into the leather at the side of her breasts and then a small chain ran to the piercings as it would with polo style nipple reins.

'I wanted Morrisey's but with her dancing she can't really have them so Tom suggested these.'

Looking closely I thought I could see that the rings were made of two types of metal.

'I persuaded her to get her clit done too.' Claire said with a grin. 'I can't believe how much it seems to turn her on. Since she had them done she's been gagging for it. I've had to chain her up some nights.'

I smiled and looked again at Dancer's nipples. There were definitely two metals in that ring and therefore probably two in the one through her clit too.

Suddenly, I heard a discrete cough from Bryony. I'd been running her hooded for so long, I'd forgotten I'd put her in a Gwen hood today.

*

I've commented before that living in Mares is a bit like living in a porn movie and I felt this again as I watched my wife being given erotic dancing lessons by Dirty Dancer. If she hand't been restrained in the blue leather arm sheath, it wouldn't have surprised me if she'd grabbed one of the poles supporting the stable's awning and shown her how to pole dance too.

And she was doing it in harness and pony boots and wearing a tail.

Dancer lived up to her name; names, in fact, both of them actually; this was no Strictly Come Dancing; this was down and dirty (Sticky Cum Dancing - sorry, couldn't resist) and I could see that she must be making a fortune in tips. I'd certainly have been happy to stuff a twenty or two in her knickers if she'd been wearing any and my wife hadn't been watching.

Incidentally, I discovered why The Dancer's tack covered so much of her body; it was to reduce whip-marks. Putting make up on her buttocks to cover them was easy enough but if they were all over her back it proved a lot more difficult.

'She had a two week lay off earlier in year while the club was being renovated.' Claire told me as we sat drinking beer and watching the erotic floor show. 'It was wonderful. I put her in a minimal harness and whipped the hell out of her.' She grinned. 'She's really submissive when she gets going. It's when she asked me to train her for the mares race and agreed to have her piercings done.'

I turned to watch Dirty Dancer thrust her hips back and forth suggestively, imagining that if her hands had been free she would have run them though her hair or up and down her body; as it was I had to make do with her tail flying around between her legs.

Bryony did her best; it wasn't bad but it wasn't anywhere near as sexy the Dancer. It did make a spectacle though, these two tightly restrained female bodies shaking their bootie as they strutted about on toe boots fashioned to look like narrow hooves bumping and grinding shoving out tits and shaking asses (complete with tails).

Bryony might not have been quite up there with this pole dancing queen but in her usual fashion, she didn't give up and by lunchtime she could strut and turn and shift her feet sexily; occasionally in something that almost resembled the beat of the music.

*

CHAPTER 17: THE HORNY MARE

*

With race day six days away Bryony seemed to have achieved a state of 'zen' which in this context meant constant arousal, visibly climaxing during dressage training and being almost insatiable in the bedroom on the kitchen table, in the stable and pretty much every where we went. She took it orally, anally and any other way I cared to offer it (even vanilla which to Bryony meant something simple like lying on her back with her legs chained apart); when expected, she swallowed enthusiastically and pretty much accepted (begged) the need to lick me clean afterwards. She also seemed happy (eager) to have pretty much anything stuffed pretty much anywhere inside. When she wasn't wearing a tail, she wanted anal beads, when she wasn't gagged she wanted my cock in her mouth; except when I was using her sex, she wanted it plugged. The one thing I did struggle with was when she asked me to wank myself between her tits and cum in her mouth. She only asked this once and, while novel, it wasn't that easy with her small pert mounds.

'Dancer told me to try.' She said, looking at me hungrily and licking her white teeth suggestively with her pink tongue.

After three weeks of lessons with Dirty Dancer she was also moving more or less to the beat.

It was in this zen-like state that I lead her up to the village on the Sunday before race day, moaning and rubbing her thighs together and shaking her chest to make her nipple bells swing in a way that she'd admitted also made her nipples tingle. It appeared that well over six months after they were done, her ponygirl piercings were still driving her crazy. As on every other occasion she'd been out of the house in the previous six weeks she was in full harness including hood, bridle and tail; naturally she was also gagged and plugged.

We'd strolled up to the village to look at the grid, the starting positions of the mares for the big race. Even if Bryony wasn't racing she still had a desire to see (hear) what the other girls in the village were up against. We also wanted to know the running order for the dressage, even if it didn't matter too much.

As usual there was a cluster of mares and knights all eager to see their place in the starting grid gathered round the board in the village green. Among them was Justin and I couldn't help but smile at the sight of him in his driving jacket, blue and, no doubt, expensively tailored courtesy of Goose. He had Eye Candy with him, fully bridled and harnessed; blue hair matching the blue leather of her tack. Goose was with him, dressed of course in a pink jacket with Honey Pot in harness bedside her; Goose had somehow managed to persuade her to dye her hair pink. As 'his and hers' coordinated clothing and accessories went it was probably the kinkiest I'd seen to date even allowing for two years in Mares-de-Launce.

Justin tipped his whip to his hat in a very rakish way and I noticed he'd grown a moustache.

'Letting the side down a little, aren't we, Mike?' Goose came to stand beside him possessively.

Though Bryony was in full dressage harness, I was in a shirt and jeans.

'I'm not the eye candy.' I said with as much authority as I could muster.

One day, I was going to remember to dress for 'grid night'.

'You know she's done it.' Goose said conspiratorially.

I must have looked blank because Goose frowned. I certainly didn't understand what she meant.

'Cassie.' Goose continued clarifying things only slightly. 'Done the deed.'

I still radiated ignorance.

'God you're dense sometimes.' Goose rolled her eyes. 'The mare 'Swallow' has become a fully fledged dressage mare.'

I felt rather than saw or heard Bryony respond and when I looked I could see the tension in her body.

'She's no match for the mare Sticky Fingers.' I said as loudly as I could although this news worried me and my voice probably carried my doubts.

'We'll see.' Goose winked. 'But I do detect a little bravado? You might be a racing supremo but Tom has been Cassie's knight for a long time and you must have seen how Cassie moves.' Then she finished coyly. 'Or perhaps men don't notice these things.'

I could always count on Goose to put me down if I ever got over cocky.

She was right though, I'd seen Cassie improve massively in her training over the last couple of months and, while she didn't have quite the technique Bryony possessed she had the 'artistic quality' in spades. If she'd really decided to go all out this year, she was going to be serious competition.

Goose turned away.

'Oh look, darling.' She called to Justin loudly. 'You and Eye Candy are ahead of us on the gird. Perhaps you will beat me after all.'

*

When I looked at the board, I saw that Cassie was up first in the dressage.

I shrugged, it didn't matter and we strolled over to the pub, mares in tow, for a pint and a chance to see the odds.

'Eight to one.' Goose said nudging Justin. 'Very impressive. Must be all that extra training you've been putting Candy through.'

Goose's mare, Honey Pot, was six to one.

Justin looked rather worried for a man who was leading a fit young mare in one hand and getting his other needs serviced by the dominant and dangerously predatory Goose.

Golden Girl was the favourite.

Goose stood a round.

''Sir' Frisky here thinks he's going to beat me just because Eye Candy is a faster mare than Honey Pot.' Goose said as we waited for our drinks. 'In fact he's put rather a large wager on it.'

That explained Justin's expression. I wondered what the wager entailed. I guessed it was a lot more serious than money. Goose was worth a fortune and there was little he could offer her financially. She was also a serious businesswoman; she wouldn't be taking a wager for charity. However, at that moment, Tom and Cassie came in. Like Bryony, the blonde dressage mare was in full harness, hooded and plumed. From the way she walked with her chest thrust out, it was clear that the dressage harness was now at full tightness. I thought she'd lost a little weight but couldn't be sure, besides, there were other distractions. She had indeed 'done the deed'; several of them in fact, there were little silver bells dangling form pierced nipples and the leash Tom held was attached just like Bryony's. There was something about the way she was standing too that suggested something locked inside her too.

'Very pretty.' Goose reached out and gently toyed with a nipple bell then tugged it gently. She looked at Justin. 'Oh, go on darling, you know you want to.'

Justin reached out tentatively and played with Cassie's other nipple bell.

Goose reached down and squeezed his crotch. 'Bear up darling. Just another few days.'

Justin rolled his eyes.

'Are they a complete set?' I asked feeling Bryony tense behind me.

'Why don't you check them out?' Tom offered with a smile.

I envisaged Bryony seething but couldn't resist. It was important to know. I slid my hand between Cassie's legs and felt a familiar set of rings, locked together in this case with bolt; pushing up I could feel the weight of a heavy dildo.

I could also feel that she was responding exactly as a dressage mare should.

'I can't believe how sensitive her nipples are.' Tom said, still grinning. He leaned forward. 'I made some bimetallic rings.' He whispered. They're the same down there.' He pointed and tugged gently on Cassie's leash pulling her towards him. 'I might have to call you in to help me out if she stays this randy for too long.'

I removed my hand and Tom replaced it with his.

Cassie gave a moan that could only be described as 'horny' and I heard Bryony squeak. It was, perhaps, the first realisation that they were so close and both girls turned with uncanny accuracy to face each other. Surprisingly, given what had been happening in the preceding three months, I thought I saw Bryony smile around her gag, Cassie may have done the same though clearly neither could have seen the other's response. Then Tom turned and lead his mare/wife away. Oddly even as she followed her husband, I thought Cassie turned back and probably smiled in Bryony's direction.

*

CHAPTER 18: RACE DAY

*

I wore my Lanceurs' uniform for the race day, the one Don Hernan had given me as part of the publicity for our visit to Argentina and the polo pony girl match. The Mares Lanceurs hadn't seen much action after our return at the beginning of the year with three of our players including our team coach staying out there to join the Caballeras Azuls and another one being hors de combat thanks to a nasty injury. Nevertheless I thought it would look good and stand out from the usual riding jackets and jodhpurs; my own contribution to the dressage aesthetic. It was quite a treat to watch the day unfold rather than miss most of it in preparation and then the race itself. Whoever came up with the dressage event knew exactly what they were doing; if putting two dozen fit women in harness and whipping them round a course wasn't enough to draw the punters, a couple of dressage mares prancing around the place wantonly displaying their bodies would surely add a little extra spice to the event, especially if they trotted amongst the crowd letting themselves be petted before performing.

The event was obviously becoming more popular, the crowd the previous year had been well up on my first year in the race and this year there were even more people crowding the village green and clustered around the Mare-in-Hand which had transformed itself in the usual manner and appeared to be doing a roaring trade. Cars had been abandoned around the green where they'd overflowed from the temporary carpark and there was even a PCSO from a neighbouring village attempting to direct traffic.

Bryony created a good deal of excitement as she trotted along the road and, as in previous years a good number of budding fetish photographers lost no time in capturing her on their phones or even long-lensed SLRs. Many in the crowd cheered and applauded as she passed, knees rising perfectly to hip height, red tail and mane flying, nipple bells jingling loudly. It was probably the first real pony girl many of them had seen although among the throng there were others who seemed keen to join the erotic equine lifestyle and I drove past a number of pony girls and pony boys variously bridled and leashed although none seemed to be pulling chariots.

As I reached the turn to the Tourney field I spotted Tabatha and Sophie, the equestrian athletes I'd met when training at the Stockport camp. They were both sporting their TeamGB riding gear and I wondered what the selectors might think if news ever got out about their less mainstream equestrian pursuits. Robin and Julie, their stablegirls, part time ponies and full time sex-slaves were with them, suitably attired like the sluts they were in leather bikinis and thigh boots; both were collared and leashed and had their hands cuffed behind their backs. Julie was gagged which didn't surprise me; every time I'd encountered the perky little redhead she was being punished for something. I drew Bryony to a halt beside them but kept her marking time. For those who are interested, this is signalled by maintaining traction on the rein and a striking each buttock in succession; the rate of the strikes is supposed the signal the time and some drivers like enforce it by continued use of the whip, particularly in the dressage arena. With Bryony lifting her knees on the spot, I called out.

'Well, look at you.' Tabatha said with a playful smile. 'My little pony all grown up with a pony of his own.'

'I thought he was my little pony actually Tab.' Sophie's expression matched Tabatha's, pouting and just a little arrogant. As is common with equestrians, these girls were minor aristocracy; good breeding stock, cut glass accents and a coming out ball. Hard as they worked, Julie and Robin were never going to make it into the saddle though both of the girls seemed to be having a lot of fun trying.

'I like a man in uniform.' Tabatha said, tracing her whip down my lapel. 'If you'd been wearing that when I first met you I'm not sure it would have been you running between the shafts.'

She was clearly flirting but I was surprised she even considered the possibility of playing pony herself. The thought of watching those firm thighs and tight bottom between the shafts in front of a man (especially if adorned with a tail) was enough to make him need a cold shower. However, I knew that as well as abusing the stable girls, Tabatha maintained strict discipline with her team. The last time I'd seen her, she'd been driving two of them in the Couples race in Bad Madschen.

'I could arrange a lesson for you.' I said.

Tabatha laughed.

'She's nice.' Sophie said indicating Bryony.

'She's good too.' Tabatha told her. 'Very proficient.'

Then the tannoy from the field announced the fifteen minute warning. The annual mares race was about to begin so I saluted the girls with my whip and drove Bryony off up the hill.

*

As we arrived, the mares were lining up for the big race; the favourite, Golden Girl had done well with the draw and was at the front of the pack; a good start and she'd be out of the gate first and away; if that happened, I doubted anyone would catch her. I spotted Dirty Dancer and Claire and waved to Justin but he was too busy looking at the competitors around him and trying to take in everything he was seeing. It reminded me of my first event and I felt a powerful sensation that I was missing out. There were compensations from all the dressage training but I'd still have liked to be out there with the others, Bryony pawing the ground and moving restlessly eager to be off.

We had gone for dressage partly because of her injury but she seemed pretty fit to me; she'd certainly managed the couples' race and I think she would have managed the Mares one. On the other hand, she still probably lacked some stamina and might struggle to keep up with Golden Girl.

Bryony is not a woman who likes to come second.

Goose waved; she was clearly focussed enough but is a seasoned competitor (on both sides of the bridle) and I knew her main goal this year was to beat Justin.

I was dying to know what their wager entailed.

I heard a jingle and felt Bryony move; looking up I saw a man studying my mare closely, phone in hand as he filmed her. I saw him reach out and tap her nipple bell again.

I flicked the whip but pulled on her rein to keep her in place. The strike was aimed at her shoulder but the man withdrew his hand quickly and hurried away, pushing through the crowd that had gathered around us.

The tannoy sounded the one minute warning and everyone went quiet, the mares stilling, drivers checking their kit for the final time; whips, reins, gloves...

Three... two... one...

The crack of the starting pistol was jarring and I felt half the crowd (and Bryony) jump in surprise. (In previous year's they'd used a hooter).

And they were off.

For anyone who's never seen a pony girl race (alright, mares' race), the start is by far the most exciting part. All those nubile young female bodies primped and polished; their skins glistening and oiled, manes decorated with ribbons; restrained in tight, shiny bondage springing suddenly into motion, as they strain in harness, teeth clamped on bits, their drivers yelling encouragement and striking out repeatedly with their whips, lashing them into action. There are always collisions and always protests that this knight drove his chariot in front of that pony or that a whip strike went astray driving a mare off course or catching a knight on the cheek but I'm not aware that anything has ever been proven. There is no official video to review the action on even if dozens of spectators take unofficial footage. Having watched some of this, there is no doubt a degree of 'hanky panky' but, as they say, all is fair in love and war and, a starting grid of fifteen highly trained mares being driven into the fray by fifteen highly competitive knights is as close to a cavalry charge as we are likely to get in rural Devonshire these days. War is that an apt comparison.

Golden girl did make it to the gate first and, by the way her mane and tail were streaming behind her as she galloped out onto the road, I was fairly sure my little side bet was going to yield results.

Justin and Eye Candy got a good start too and, if I wasn't mistaken, Justin used some pretty dirty tactics to block the Goose and Honey Pot in so that my best mate's mistress and her blonde mare were almost the last to leave the field.

Goose was not going to be a happy woman. Their bet really had to be a big one.

*

With the main race underway, the competitors were called for the field events and I trotted Bryony up alongside the crowd to the main arena to watch. The guy who'd filmed himself playing with her nipple bell wasn't the only one to get handsy, however, a flick of the whip and a glare was usually enough to make would be gropers think twice or at least enjoy only a fleeting touch. To be honest, you can hardly blame any red-blooded guy confronted with his first (and quite possibly only) encounter with a living-breathing pony girl in harness for trying his luck a little and, I suspected Bryony was so 'zenned out' it probably felt perfectly natural that those around her would want to pet her. After all, what red-blooded pony girl wouldn't want to be groped and even touched intimately by unseen hands as she is was driven hooded and harnessed through a crowd of strangers.

And, of course, she did look good, her mane and tail combed, tack polished, nipples rouged. Ordinarily she'd have spent at least an hour on her make up before a race but on this occasion, all that was required was lipstick, the rest of her face being hidden behind the hood. Most of the preparation this year aside from getting her tack perfect had been bringing her to a level of sexual excitement commensurate with that needed for a dressage mare on event day; that is to say a level so close to orgasm that she was constantly in danger of tipping over and shuddering to climax with minimal stimulation. After nearly three months of training her body was so utterly responsive that she seemed to be in a constant state of sexual arousal and like Tom, if I'm honest, she passed the stage where I was able to fully to satisfy her.

I think it is fair to say, that, as she pressed through the crowd her body literally radiated sexual need.

Thus, when we found ourselves so penned in that I couldn't use the whip and I'm sure at least a dozen hands were allowed to run freely over her gorgeous and utterly helpless body she had the first of many climaxes that day which only served to encourage the groping hands more. Actually, saying she was helpless is perhaps a little inaccurate; there were definitely some cries of pain as we pushed through the crowd when the hoof of a pony boot landed a little wider than it should have done and made contact with someone's foot. How she targeted this, I've no idea but we were packed pretty close and it's probably fair to say that if you are that close to a pony girl and not taking advantage of the fact you probably deserve all you get anyway.

Bryony wasn't they only one to enjoy the attention. There are occasions when I scrub up well and this was one of them and, as we battled up the field, I received considerably more contact than was necessary including hands on my thighs, a couple of hugs and a few unexpected kisses from the women among the crowd. I also had several offers to be my pony and a few phone numbers (several on the back of intimate photos) stuffed down my riding boots.

*

CHAPTER 19: FIRE AND ICE

*

Bryony and I might have enjoyed the attention but when the crowd parted to reveal Tom and Cassie I could see that the little blonde mare had way more admirers. Blondes always pull a crowd but, in this case, it was utterly deserved; she looked breathtaking. There were silver streamers plaited into her mane and tail and her hair was curled into ringlets which danced and caught the light as she moved. Her body shone too, her skin adorned with glitter so she sparkled and shimmered in the sunshine yet somehow her look achieved a soft coolness despite the heat of the afternoon.

There was a genuine hush as she trotted into the dressage arena and I think even the most tenacious of perverts lowered their cameras as their jaws dropped in the realisation that a pony girl could be quite so mesmerising.

Her set began with a little shimmy, a sort of belly dancer meets private dancer, that took me back to Argentina and Saher, the dancing girl who was kept denied for a month at a time so that her performances were always full of sexual tension. The movement made her generous breasts sway and her bells jingle. It was the perfect articulation of the dressage ethic, sexy and sultry and wanton and it drew everyone's attention; then, with what seemed like trepidation but was clearly well practiced poise she extended a foot, then another as if probing the ground, feeling her way with tips of her toe boots.

She was dancing to a piece from Madam Butterfly and began with soft opening swirls turning left and right, the picture of uncertainty, desire, trepidation...

Then came the whip, seeming to make her jump though, again, this was clearly a measured response; it worked though with half the crowd audibly catching their breath; then, as the music built, she trotted on the spot for a moment as if finding herself there in harness for the first time awaiting the command of her master. Tom brought the whip to her haunches in a stunning display of whip craft and she sidestepped and turned then came back the other way in a flurry of arpeggios.

It was beautiful, this lovely buxom maiden, new to the shafts and whip but desirous to please her master. The crowd applauded and whistled and then she was off, high trotting as if she was effortlessly pulling Tom. They meandered almost lazily between the pillars and then she changed course and, for a dreadful moment, I thought she was going to run into one but she stopped, almost touching it, still trotting, legs rising and falling, knees to the horizontal, shins vertical toes perfectly points. Then languidly she seemed to slide down the post as if teasing herself against it, seeking pleasure from this rigid upright in a move of which Dirty Dancer would have been proud; the bells jingled as she shook her breasts and stood again. Tom pulled the clit rein and Cassie backed away almost reluctantly seeming to telegraph her desire to be touch the pole.

The crowd cheered.

They did a full reverse, Cassie trotting perfectly as they passed backwards between the posts until at a flick of the whip she stood still, knees still pumping in perfect rhythm. She stopped and shimmied again then seemed to writhe on the spot as the music built, head snapping back as she trembled in what was either the mother of fake orgasms or a very genuine one.

The crowd roared.

The music came in hard and loud and, even in the final throws of her orgasm, Cassie broke into a canter and then a gallop, surging wildly, expressing a final resistance to submission and Tom used the whip to curb her exertions, each one more frenzied that the last before he brought her to a dead stop and she dropped to her knees with her head bowed. The slave girl and the pony tamed.

The crowd went wild.

*

Bryony must have heard the cheer and the wolf whistles and claps as Cassie did her thing but if it affected her, she gave no outward sign, standing on the spot, still aside from the gentle motion of her legs designed to keep her balance en-point and, no doubt to allow a gentle but constant rubbing of her thighs, the perfect dressage pony in her red and black livery. She stood still too as Cassie trotted out of the ring, thighs still reaching the perfect horizontal although now I thought she swayed her bottom a little more, her tail swishing, a parting gift her adoring fans.

Tom turned the chariot steering the lovely blonde mare towards me and I had the pleasure her her breasts bouncing and bells jingling as they jumped wildly on her nipples. She was hot and flushed, her breasts and belly glistening with sweat but she kept her head up proudly.

Cassie's ice maiden had melted, it was time for Bryony to turn up the heat.

With a flick of the whip and a 'Trot on', I urged her to the trot and we passed touching whips in salute. Behind me, I knew he would turn Cassie so he at least could watch the action.

*

Where Cassie's performance was sultry and sensual, Bryony's was choreographed precision, technically more demanding but perhaps less of a crowd pleaser except that she was a pert, perfect, prancing pony performing in harness for the pleasure of others and as she trotted into the arena and I took her on the obligatory circuit to show her off. After Cassie's performance it was a good start that she received the same warmth as had been shown to the blonde.

We'd chosen, at Dirty Dancer's suggestion, 'Whore', a track by a US band called The Nuns who, as far as I could tell had made music for the porn industry and had a little success in the goth rock scene.

As the music started, Bryony lifted her knees almost to her chest, trotting on the spot then under the direction of the whip darted forward to stop, again idling on the spot; I could hear her nipple bells jingling and see her mane and tail flying. The crowd liked it too cheering and offering their encouragement as I drove her zig-zagging precisely from side to side before allowing her to canter through the poles, her shoulder and the wheels of the chariot almost brushing them as we passed. We did the reverse thing too and 'the present' where the mare runs at the rail around the arena and stops just before it to give the crowd a full up-close-and-personal look at the lovely harnessed girl; they got a full bell-shake' from Bryony; it might not be a Cassie shimmy but as the lyrics screamed 'you'll have to go down, you'll have to bend over', subtly wasn't what was required.

If a girl does a 'present', she must do it at least at both ends and, ideally on all four sides; this obviously takes time but time can be made up by a full gallop between ends which is more thrilling anyway; and it fitted the music, in this case, the young whore flaunting her body even as she is warned of its inevitable decline. I'd seen how she'd responded to the touch of the crowd and a number of the crowd had seen it too. They saw it now in her performance; Cassie might have been sultry and seductive, Bryony flared with brazen sexual need as she displayed her pert little body like the slut she was portraying.

If I'm honest, I think it was a little more than portraying.

She strutted, she shook her mane and her tail, she shoved out her tits and she flashed her pussy. Cassie had probably made every man present (and a number of women, no doubt) want to take her home and keep her as their loving slave; Bryony made them want to throw her on onto her back and fuck her brains out on the spot.

Dressage is about sex. Bryony gave it.

Like I say, it was a complex routine and a fast paced one with way more content than Cassie's to play to her strengths. Presenting involves a lot of turns as well as the full gallop and I was aware of the roar of the crowd as she turned for the final run, weaving between the posts, mane and tail streaming.

There was just one problem, she set off on the wrong foot at the turn. She did a perfect little half-step to get her back on track (staying on the wrong foot would have affected her turns). Then, she did it again in the final run. I'm guessing ninety percent of the crowd wouldn't have noticed.

The judges, however, would.

*

Bryony came out of the arena panting hard, she'd just spent three and a half minutes running on her toes while tightly restrained and gagged pulling a full grown man in a buggy while being whipped.

She probably was slightly more breathless than the pre-injury Bryony of a year ago would have been but I could easily forgive her that. I was going to be less forgiving of her two errors though.

I whipped her hard up the hill, making her trot all the way until she was in position beside Cassie and I sat beside Tom.

Tom touched his whip to mine in a sort of pony high five. 'Nice.' He said with a smile. 'I think it's going to be close.'

His tone showed he'd clearly spotted Bryony's mis-steps.

I nodded finding myself surprisingly angry with her for her lapses and trying to work out what could possibly have distracted her enough for them to happen. Bryony was not a woman who made mistakes, certainly not twice. She corrected them like the pro she was but...

I resisted the urge to whip her then and there and then the crowd closed around us. This is customary after the dressage, the mares stand side by side hooded and harnessed while the onlookers get to examine a prize pony girl in full tack and, if they've missed the chance before, jingle a nipple bell or tweak a tail. I'm sure the judges prolong their discussions on purpose at this time. If it all gets too intimate, knights can always resort to the whip to keep their mares from being groped too intensely.

Bryony was intensely agitated, I could see it in her posture and her movements; she was also clearly incredibly aroused. Like many mares in Mares, she finds the whole performing in harness thing on race day intensely stimulating and, even before turning her in to a hot, wonton dressage mare, I still recall the fucks we've had after races. Now, here she was as a dressage mare, essentially a tightly restrained performing sex doll whose very existence was to pleasure the crowd; she'd certainly managed that. If the attention the two mares were receiving was any way to judge, the spectators opinions were divided; there were as many of them thronging around cool seductive Cassie, calmer now after a few minutes to gather her breath as around the hot pulsating slut that was Bryony.

As if by mutual agreement, Tom and I let them have their fun. It wasn't something Charles would have allowed with Barbie but, not being too agist, they were older and had different values; they'd also competed at a time when crowds were smaller. Mares regularly featured on social media these days and that was why the Mares day was becoming more widely known.

I couldn't help smiling as those in front reached out to touch the two mares, gingerly at first, tracing the welts around their shoulders and hips and, when we didn't drive them back with our whips then began to caress them more intimately, flicking nipple bells and stroking thighs or breasts. At one point, Cassie actually nickered, tossing her head as a hand slid between her thighs. Mostly, though, far from being unsettled by the treatment, the girls seemed to be enjoying it, especially Bryony who suddenly shuddered, crying out into her gag as she orgasmed violently, the sexual tension of the event finally exerting itself. This made many of their admirers bolder still and eventually we did have to stop the gropers and the touchers and the tweakers but not until both girls had cum repeatedly to the intense pleasure of their admirers (and presumably themselves).

*

I wasn't surprised when the result was announced.

'The mare Swallow wins the dressage.'

But it was surprisingly close: thirty six point seven to thirty seven point one.

Cassie did a little dance on the spot in a way I thought very unprofessional for a moment until I realised that I should be happy for her. I reached over to congratulate Tom, shaking his hand, and then waited as he edged Cassie forward towards the arena. He never made it, the crowd went wild and Cassie and Tom were almost overwhelmed.

Bryony stood completely still.

It's amazing how easy it is to ignore a pony girl in full harness; with the result announced, the crowd seemed to pass us by as they pressed around Tom and Cassie and I realised this was the first time I'd been on the losing team with Bryony (polo matches excepted).

I gave her a few moments then drove her to the bottom of the field and climbed out of the chariot.

Bryony stood up straight, still the perfect picture of a prim dressage mare though looking at her closely, I could see she was trembling. Standing beside her, I held the rein tight almost making her take a step forward. She was still flushed, nipples erect and hard, sex almost certainly drooling; I could smell her arousal; the epitome of a bitch on heat despite the string of orgasms she'd just enjoyed.

'That was deliberate, wasn't it?' I asked.

After a moment's pause, Bryony nodded.

I struck her with the whip hard across the buttocks. Then I reached to undo her gag, and eased it out of her mouth, giving her a moment to move her jaw and lick her lips.

'Well?'

Bryony forced a smile, at least that's what it looked like. 'There must be some secrets in a relationship, Sir.' Her voice was unsteady.

'Was it for Cassie?'

'Partly, Sir.' She spoke determinedly though her voice wavered. 'I know how much she wanted to win.'

'So you let her.'

'Yes, Sir.' She was clearly crying under the hood.

'You didn't let her win because you thought she might beat you anyway?'

Bryony froze.

'I'm sorry, Sir.' She let out a sob.

There was clearly some truth in that.

'Anything else you want to tell me.' I tugged on the rein and she took a step forward, gasping. 'Before I punish you.'

She licked her lips. 'Just that... that I've grown accustomed being kept as a dressage mare, Sir. And that letting Cassie win means you will have to enter me again next year which means I get to to spend an entire twelve months in... in this state...'. Her voice failed her; her words choked in a mix of tears and arousal.

'Oh.' This caught me off guard. Her words sounded rehearsed; she'd clearly thought about this.

'I'm your slave, Mike. I want to be treated like this every day of my life.' She was rubbing her thighs together.

I looked at her unsure what to say; this beautiful sexual creature standing before me helpless in bondage and utterly submissive to my desires.

'I'm sorry, Sir.' She was clearly unsettled by my silence; I could see the flush of her skin and imagined the tears on her cheeks under the hood.

I should probably have whipped her then and there but somehow it wasn't the right time.

She let out another sob.

'You may, in time, be forgiven.' I told her gently.

'Not too quickly, I hope.' She said with a forced smile.

'Oh, you will be punished.'

'Good.' She smiled more genuinely. 'I've been a naughty girl.'

If I could, it would have been the moment to wipe away her tears even as I contemplated the utter pleasure of punishing her and keeping her in bondage as my personal sex slave for at least another entire year.

'Sir...'. Her need was obvious. 'Please.'

Perhaps it was the relief at it being over.

I slid a hand between her legs and felt her heat; she climaxed almost immediately, rocking on her boots and crying out.

'Thank you, Sir.' She panted as the orgasm passed. 'I really needed that.'

I kissed her gently.

'I'm sorry, Sir. I mean... I can't believe she's jealous of me. Look at her, blonde and bouncy and soooo sexy when she moves.' She smiled acknowledging her own weakness in that area. 'And then there's that lovely daughter of hers. You know she's expecting another one don't you? I should be the one who's jealous....' Her words were tumbling out; not rehearsed this time but chaotic and spontaneous. 'And I was thinking that if I'm a dressage mare I can run with a little extra weight and it will be easier to...'. She licked her lips. '... conceive.' She stopped abruptly. 'Oh, fuck.'

Her chest was aflame, red fire spreading up it; I suspected her face was now burning under the hood.

'Do you wish to say any more on the subject?' I couldn't help teasing her though suddenly my own pulse was accelerating.

'Does Master command an answer from his slave?'

She was experiencing one of those blushes that only red-heads do from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair so powerful that a new dew of sweat beaded in her skin.

'Tell me what you want.' I told her.

'I want you to gag me again, Sir.' She looked at me in a pleading way.

'Tell me.'

'I want to be punished, Sir.'

'What else?'

'Nothing else, Sir.'

'Sure?'

'Yes, Sir.'

'Slaves who lie to their masters are punished severely.'

'Yes, Sir.' She licked her lips. 'Your slave has nothing else to say on the matter.'

'Open.' I said as lifted the gag to her lips.

'You will punish me properly for this, won't you, Sir.' The Bryony I knew was back, fierce, determined.

'Oh, yes.' I paused. 'Naughty pony girls always get punished.'

'Sir?'

'Yes?'

'I'm a mare... a dressage mare.' She grinned.

I brought my whip down on her breasts; her bells jumped and jingled and she rocked back on her boots.

'A very insolent one too.' I said.

'Thank you, Sir.' The pride was back in her voice.

I pushed the gag into her mouth and buckled it in place.

*

CHAPTER 20: ONCE A DRESSAGE MARE...

*

Tom and I were in the garden of the Mare in Hand enjoying a pint. I'd seen rather a lot of him in the two weeks since the Mares race day and we were sitting in our usual spot in the evening sun with our mares kneeling at our feet. The day after the dressage was over, the two mares appeared to make up with Cassie ringing to ask Bryony to come to her first antenatal appointment. I'd answered as, obviously, Bryony was chained to the bed being punished and had held the phone for her after removing her gag. The rest as they say is history and I still don't really understands what it was all about.

The competition might be over for another year but our wives were still, of course, dressage mares and, as such could indulge in the right to 'sport tack' in the village; something Tom and I continued not only to encourage but firmly enforced. The two of them were kneeling side by side in full tack which is to say nearly naked in reverse prayer restraints and dressage boots; minus gags, and with open face hoods rather than full face ones; they were still bridled, naturally. Also, matching Bryony is many ways, Cassie now had a white open face hood behind which her blonde pony tail danced as they two mares talked animatedly.

We'd spent the afternoon at the smithy where Tom had replaced Bryony's genital piercings with bimetallic ones. Cassie, apparently, loved hers and Tom clearly did too (and, yes, he'd done Dirty Dancer a month before the race). I'd therefore had the pleasure of seeing Bryony flat on her back on the rack with her legs in the air as Tom worked on her 'undercarriage'. The piercings completed the two mares had spent the rest of the afternoon trying out one of Tom's latest inventions to add to his selection of phallic toys.

This one had two large wheels to which the girls were strapped, suspended spreadeagle by their wrists and ankles. They'd started face to face other but then Tom had turned Cassie through half a turn so that she was now upside-down looking through Bryony's spread legs. We'd then gagged them with their dressage gags and Tom had run wires from the end of the Cassie's gag to the new ring in Bryony's clit. After gagging Bryony, I'd reversed the arrangement connecting her gag to Cassie's clit ring. We soon had nipple rings connected to thumb cuffs and with judicious use of the crop we had soon had them wriggling delightfully and providing each other with stimulation into the process. Over the afternoon we'd added blindfolds and vibrators then tied pony tails firmly to rectal hooks so that every movement had them squealing with delight, something that was only increased when Tom produced a couple of plume feathers and we indulged in bit of tickling. When they couldn't stand anymore (Cassie eventually wet herself), we'd taken out their gags, released their ponytails and made them lick each other out.

Obviously, we'd not left Cassie upside-down all afternoon.

Needless to say, now back in harness, both girls were looking extremely smug and giggling wildly as they relived the experience. This was helped on Bryony's part by having beer in her water bowl; Cassie of course was sticking to water.

Looking up from the girlish squealing, I found Goose standing over me. She was dressed for summer in a very light wrap around dress (in pink, obviously). It looked rather downmarket for her, but it was a hot summer day and even the Goose must feel the need to kick back sometime. She looked tired too and not as well groomed as usual.

'Is Justin with you?' Tom asked.

'He's just getting the drinks in.' She said sounding rather preoccupied.

We hadn't seen either of them since the race.

There was an awkward pause.

'I believe congratulations are in order.' Goose said looking at Tom.

'Thank you.' Tom said graciously taking a sip from his pint.

I had to ask.

I knew Justin and Eye Candy had beaten Goose and Honey Pot. In fact, Eye Candy had come fourth and Honey Pot had run very poorly coming way down in the field.

Tom beat me to it.

'Are you going to tell us what Justin won in your wager?'

Goose paled slightly and sighed.

'He's made me get him his own pony.' She said rolling her eyes.

'Wow!' Tom looked surprised. 'And what did he have to offer for that?'

'His balls on a plate, probably.' Bryony said from the sidelines.

Goose looked at her with a rather pained expression and I suspected that if there'd been a whip to hand, she might have snatched it up and given my little mare a good thrashing for her insolence.

'I already have those.' She said darkly.

At that moment, Justin appeared. He was dressed in his riding gear, the blue jacket he'd worn on Mares day; in his hands he held a rather fine quality crop. Behind him was Fanny; the girl he'd run beside in the Bad Madschen couples race. She looked as statuesque and blonde as ever and entirely happy to be leashed and trailing behind her new owner on a clit leash. She was also completely naked aside from a little wisp of white silk covering her neatly shaved pussy and a metal collar locked around her neck.

The perfect Gorean slave girl.

I couldn't help smiling at the sight of Tom's eyes bulging.

Fanny was carrying a tray of drinks and Justin gestured for her to place them on the table.

'Good afternoon gentlemen.' He said with a smile and a degree of confidence I hadn't seem him exhibit in Mares since his first visit when he'd first realised that my life here wasn't a carefully constructed erotic fantasy.

Fanny bent and place the tray on the table then dropped to her knees sliding her hands behind her back.

That wisp of silk really was very small and she really did have superb breasts; the sun glinted beautifully off the piercings in her nipples.

Justin picked up a pint and raised it.

'Cheers.' He took a long swig and sat at the table.

Most noticeably, he didn't seem to acknowledge Goose and certainly didn't show her any deference. Judging by previous encounters, I'd have expected him on his knees by now.

It all seemed a bit weird.

We watched as Justin poured beer into a water bowl and set it down in front of Fanny. She knelt looking down at it but didn't bend to drink.

Justin reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of handcuffs. He tossed them to Fanny who caught them and slipped her hands behind her back. She gave a delightful little wiggle (and so did her breasts) as she slipped them in place and we heard the ratchets click as she cuffed herself.

'You may drink.' Said Justin.

'Thank you, Master.' She whispered, a little smile crossing her face and she bent forward, clearly pleased as her current situation.

Goose was still standing to one side and Justin finally turned to her.

'Are we forgetting something, Darling?' He said.

Goose frowned, a blush of colour coming to her cheeks.

For a moment nothing else happened then she spoke very quietly. 'Yes, Sir.'

Tom and I looked at her. Even Cassie and Bryony stilled.

'Don't make me use the whip.' Justin said.

'Fine!' Goose's cheeks coloured more as she pulled the fastening of her dress, opening it it to reveal her body.

Like Fanny, she was naked save for a wisp of silk over her pussy.

She was also pierced!

We watched in amazement as she dropped to her knees.

Justin produced a pair of handcuffs and tossed them to Goose.

For a moment I thought she was going to throw them back at him but she slid her hands behind her back and cuffed her wrists then knelt up like Fanny had, pushing out her breasts and bowing her head.

'Fuck me!' Bryony said.

We all looked at her and she blushed.

Justin poured beer into another bowl and set it before Goose who glowered up at him.

'You may drink.'

Goose made no movement.

'Suit yourself.' Justin picked up his pint and lifted it looking at Tom. 'To the winners of the dressage.'

'Thank you.'

We drank a toast; which is to say that Tom, Justin and I drank a toast and the mares, all except Goose, drank from their bowls.

Justin looked at her. 'Play nice, darling.'

Goose glared up at him but then bent forward to drink.

'Good girl.' Justin said as she lifted her head.

Froth coated her upper lip and she licked it off quickly.

Justin reached into his pocket again and I saw Goose follow the movement nervously.

'No. Please, Sir.'

I'd never seen Goose scared.

Justin was holding a steel collar that matched Fanny's.

We all watched, almost spellbound, as he stood behind Goose and slipped it round her neck.

I'd like to say you could have heard a pin drop in the garden.

We all heard the collar click shut.

Goose swallowed and looked very pale.

Justin stroked her blonde hair.

Goose began to blush.

'And to Golden Girl.' Tom said breaking the tension and distracting us all from staring at the kneeling, blushing and clearly newly enslaved Goose.

'To Golden Girl.' We all chorused.

Golden girl had romped home in the mares' race which was just as well as I'd managed to recoup a little of my losses on Bryony in the dressage. They weren't big and certainly not as big as Goose's appeared to be.

I resolved to stick to cash in my wagers.

As a professional coach, I never thought I'd hear myself say it but win or lose in competition; it really didn't matter; I looked at Bryony kneeling, naked and harnessed.

I had clearly won in life.

END

Bryony and Mike will return in 'The Sled Bitch Race'