A Pony Tale - Part 3
Author: Pony Girl, Copyright (c)2000 Pony Girl, UK.
Summary: Lucinda, an attractive 26-year-old advertising executive, is bored with her shallow job. Peter, a 39-year-old ex-football playing network trouble-shooter from America, introduces her to the world of pony-play. She seeks a hedonistic but trusting relationship whereas he wishes to add her to his long list of trophies. A Pony Tale chronicles her experiences and challenges during this journey.
Warning: This work contains adult material. It explicitly describes heterosexual, homosexual and group sex activities and covers many aspects of submission and discipline. It is NOT to be viewed by minors or residents of countries where the depiction of these acts is illegal.
You are responsible for any copies you make. By downloading this work you agree to indemnify the author and any of her agents regarding any action howsoever arising from misuse either deliberate or otherwise while this work is in your possession. You also agree to use all reasonable precautions to prevent minors or unauthorised persons accessing the work. You are granted the right to download, copy and print the work for your personal use only. You may copy the contents to bulletin boards, newsgroups and similar fora provided this copyright notice is included with the copy and the work is complete and unmodified in any way. The author would, however, appreciate an email informing her where you have posted this. (See signature) Under no circumstances may you use the work or parts thereof for any form of trade or commercial gain whatsoever even under 'fair use'. Pony.assm@ranch.demon.co.uk
Chapter 13 - Pegs, pain and pleasure
Peter stood behind Lucinda and, holding her by the hips, carefully lined her up with the front camera. He then placed the rear camera, tripod and lights to her side so that they showed a profile view of her whole body on the screen. The visual disorientation coupled with the bright lights was even stranger than before and she swayed slightly on her shoes. A sharp blow with the crop revitalised her attention to her posture. After a couple of zooms into her face and breasts then back out again Peter was satisfied. 'Still got the ball?' he asked. Lucinda nodded and held out her hand for him to see. 'OK, hold tight. I'm going to try and find your limit.' Her mouth went dry. 'To help you keep quiet, I have this!' he went to the table and held up a child's plastic ball with holes in. Threaded through two opposing holes was a length of cord. 'Open your mouth.' Lucinda did so and he pushed the ball in. It felt huge and she had a terrible desire to gag. 'Relax,' he chided, 'The feeling will pass and you'll welcome it.' Lucinda had serious doubts about that but, when Peter knotted the cord tightly behind her head and she bit down on the horrible thing, it did feel easier. 'Better?' Lucinda nodded. The next item Peter produced looked like a long tapered leather tube with laces along the seam and a thick looped 'handle' at the narrow end. It was similar to the glove she'd seen them use at the club the previous week. 'Put your arms behind you and cross your wrists.' He lifted her arms a little and slid the tube up over her hands until the wide top reached her upper arms and the loop hung below her hands. He twisted her arms such that her elbows faced backwards. Then, with a tug, Peter tightened the lower laces and, feeding the slack up as he went, Peter used the glove to compress her arms together until they were forced back and up. As the constriction neared the top her shoulders were pulled back further she would have thought possible. To her delight, when she looked at the profile view, Lucinda understood what he was getting at about her breasts. They now stood up proudly out from her chest and the additional enforced arch of her back gave her head a dignified air, even when relaxing the restraint still helped her maintain almost the same posture. Despite the initial discomfort she thought, 'This is getting good,' and moved her feet apart to stabilise herself and further enhance the effect. 'Enjoying it?' Peter asked. Lucinda nodded three times. 'In that case, time for this.' He grinned, brandishing a long bar. It was just under a metre in length and had a wide Velcro cuffs at each end. It looked like a pair of handcuffs for an Orang-Utan. When Peter knelt behind her and placed it on the floor behind her feet, its use was obvious. 'Spread 'em babe' he mimicked in New Yoik cop-ese. He patted her on the inside of her knees and she willingly obliged, no mystery in that command she thought as she grinned from behind her gag and clomped her feet further apart. With a loud tearing sound, Peter unhitched one of the straps and carefully wrapped it around her left ankle. He moved to the right and Lucinda noticed that, as he attached the right cuff, the bar telescoped to give an adjustable length and he twisted the locking wheel. As he started to rise he paused and, to Lucinda's delight, ran his fingertips lightly over the now vulnerable downy mat between her legs and pressed gently. Lucinda went light-headed and felt herself open for him, desperate for more attention down there. Annoyingly he removed his hand and sniffed his fingertips as he walked to the table again. Lucinda gazed at her image in the screen. The paradoxical combination of the aloofness of her profile and the wanton availability of her breasts and vagina seemed to sum up what she'd felt watching the ponies at play the previous weekend. Any doubts she had had were being wonderfully dispelled. He returned carrying a velvet bag that rattled mysteriously. Lucinda found herself trying to part her thighs further in anticipation of this new toy. Instead, his attention went to her breasts. He tweaked her nipples a few times and lightly flipped her breasts with the back of his fingers. Her aroused state and vulnerable posture made her nipples and aureolae positively spring upwards. 'OK' she thought, 'Pussy later, this is not bad.' On a couple of occasions, but not yet with Peter, Lucinda had climaxed by just having her breasts and nipples played with, an experience that blew her mind each time but one she found hard to repeat. She began to suspect, and hope, that the third time was imminent and would be with Peter. As she salivated with anticipation, she found the ball and her dry mouth made it increasingly hard to swallow and gagged a few times until she worked out a simple rhythm but saliva still dribbled down her chin giving her yet another annoyance she was helpless to address.
Hooking the loop of the drawstring at the top of the bag over his left thumb, Peter squeezed her right breast in a firm grip. He then rummaged in the bag and, to her surprise and horror, produced a simple plastic clothes peg. His intent was obvious. Lucinda squirmed and mumble-dribbled from behind the gag. 'Remember the red ball' Peter reminded her. 'No! I can do this' she thought, and gripped both gag and red balls tightly.
The pain was more imagined than real. Although the thought of what he was doing was a shock the feeling was much more subtle. After the initial sharp pinching it soon spread as a warm discomfort from the point of pressure backwards through her breast. She checked her image on the screen. The peg jutted directly out from her nipple, its jaws clamped firmly at the base with the teat suffused and bloated like a dark red berry. With a practiced flurry, Peter clamped her left nipple in the same fashion. Lucinda closed her eyes and took deep breaths through the holey ball. Working outwards from the starting centre pegs, he alternately pinched up folds in each breast and rapidly clamped them in place. After some minutes a dull, throbbing ache suffused her entire upper chest. She opened her eyes and saw, on the twin views, her breasts looking like a child's coloured plastic porcupine toy. They looked and felt some four inches bigger. 'Oh well, that's one adolescent fantasy fulfilled at least' she pondered and rolled her shoulders to counterbalance the weight. The mass of pegs wobbled and new waves of pain washed over her. To heighten the feeling, Peter spread his hands and ran his fingertips over the 'shell' of pegs and was rewarded with hissing gasps of pain from Lucinda's filled mouth as he played her twin instruments. It was as though her nerves had extended to the very ends of the pegs and even the slightest movement was amplified tenfold. Bizarre thoughts of some old time music hall act ran through her mind... 'Ladies and Gentlemen! Tonight on the double mammary, we have the prestidigitously, precise Peter accompanied by the wickedly, wanton wheezing of the most lusciously, lovely Lucky Lady!' Thank goodness copywriting had improved in the past century she considered. He nodded, pleased with his work but looked up at the ceiling and sighed. 'I would have liked to have tied your nipples up as well but, sadly, there was no time to fix suitable hooks.' He shrugged, 'Maybe next weekend?' Lucinda recalled Richard Harris's torture in 'A Man Called Horse' little realising at the time that pony-play had, in fact, already been well developed by the Sioux. Peter was certainly demonstrating his American heritage to her.
He put the bag down and moved the front camera nearer until it was just in front of the spreader bar. With a twist of his wrist, the tripod legs shortened and the camera ended up looking like a single-eyed inquisitive insect crouched between her legs. The view on the screen showed the room behind her, but he angled the camera up and adjusted the lens until a close up of her sex, thighs and belly filled the screen. She recalled her earlier musings, 'Eat your hearts out sisters!' she thought as she examined herself. Her inner lips peeked invitingly from their furry haven in blissful ignorance of what might be in store for them. She also made a mental note to pay more attention to her bikini line when next being sugared, God it was sloppy. Peter upended the bag of pegs and tipped its contents onto the floor between her legs. He then knelt to one side of the phallic camera and, carefully prising her open a little, peered at his next target. Lucinda braced herself, waiting for the pain. But instead, he cursed softly and shuffled over to the table before returning with two pieces of thin cord. Sitting cross-legged like a tailor, he threaded one end of each through the centre hole of two pegs and placed them next to him.
'Bend your knees and squat' He commanded. Lucinda sank down like a Sumo wrestler and tried to control her bobbing protuberances. She failed miserably but finally reached the position he sought with the muscles in her thighs and calves protesting horribly and her heavy pegged breasts wallowing in front of her. She saw and felt him reach up and pinch a good chunk of her fleshy right outer lip with his left hand and firmly attach one of the threaded pegs to the centre. This time it did hurt. Lots! So did the other lip. She panted and stared at the screen. The twin chords dangled between her legs like the strings of huge tampons, her squatting stance heightening the effect of apparently having four stuffed up her. Peter reached behind her knees and took hold of the ends. He loosely looped them around her thighs and threaded the ends back through the knots he'd tied hence forming a sort of noose. Holding the very ends of the cords in his fingertips he slowly and simultaneously tightened the nooses. Lucinda felt herself being unpeeled like the skin of an exotic fruit. Her screen image revealed the glistening flushed redness and her inner lips vulnerable and delicate like the fronds of a sea anemone. 'Wonderful' murmured Peter as he turned and gazed at the image. 'For whom?' she mentally added, her stretched muscles starting to cramp. Lucinda shut her eyes to concentrate on her Yogic breathing, pranayama. This should be no worse than learning a new posture she thought and arched her back further until she was better balanced. As Peter busied himself between her legs with his washerwoman pegging chores she ran a simple mantra through her mind. 'Shit! Shit! Fuck, fuck! Shit!' Unorthodox but effective as the initial twin sources of pain were added to and grow until they merged into one massive ball of fire in her loins and running down her inner thighs. Again the effect was like having her the nerves of her sex extended into the space in front of her. She supposed men must be used to this as they seem to go on constantly about the size and versatility of their external dangly bits. Frankly, she preferred to keep her gonads tucked safely away inside. Mercifully she felt him gently tap her knees. 'Straighten up now but don't close your legs' he said softly. She un-flexed her complaining knees and felt the relief wash over her but was still acutely aware of the massive ball of pegs suckling on her sex like some monstrous feeding limpet. She opened her eyes to inspect the creature. Pegs ran up her inner thighs and split into four serried ranks with the outer pair merging just under her pubis. Even the fold of her clitoral hood was not spared and sported three of the little buggers. Amazingly, although he'd managed to make the pegs butt up to each other and all but obscured any sight of her tortured flesh, he'd left her clitoris standing free like a tiny delicate pink flower in a forest of garish plastic. Her brain seemed to interpret and amplify the messages from the surrounding nerves and enhance her awareness of this, her most sensitive sexual organ, to the extent that she felt even the lightest of touches would send her over the brink. Admittedly you'd probably need a machete to reach it. She was reminded of how painful it was at times to be touched there after orgasm, this felt like that before. Lucinda had to admit that Peter knew his stuff. If the situation were reversed she'd have had no idea of what clamp to where on a man. But, if experience was much to go by, she'd probably only have time to place half a dozen pegs before getting a face full of semen. Despite her discomfort, she giggled at the thought of the splattered image running down the screen like driving into a shower of jellyfish. 'Shit! Shit! Fuck, fuck! Shit!' She winced. Lesson... Don't giggle!
Peter scooped the remaining pegs - there were still lots - back into the bag. The shop he'd bought them from must have suspected some secret laundry fetish, in days gone by he'd have subsidised half the local gypsy population. 'Pegs for the missus, ducky? Go orn luv, give 'er a real treat.' In the side view Lucinda saw Peter move to stand behind her and stretch then roll his neck and shoulders. Lucinda was appalled. 'He's got problems?' she thought, disgusted.
Peter firmly held the 'handle' of her long glove device and hooked the loop of the bag over his thumb as before. 'Bend forwards, I'll support you.' Lucinda tried to and, finding it impossible to move her feet, wobbled horribly. It was like leaning over a holly bush. Thankfully Peter did take most of her weight and she eased forwards until the hemispheres of her peg bra rattled as they hung below her chest. This new position re- triggered myriad nerve endings and she felt waves of faintness and nausea wash over her until the whole experience seemed slightly unreal. Peter worked rapidly and attached more rows of pegs to the flesh of her buttocks and the rear of her thighs. With only one free hand he was unable to pinch much flesh to act as a cushion so he'd been forced to attach them to the very surface of her skin. The realisation grew in her that this was by intent rather than circumstance as the fiery pain was far worse than her more obviously sensitive areas. Whereas her breasts and sex throbbed dully like a devouring toothache, her buttocks felt like thousands of red-hot needles were piercing them. Peter gently hauled her upright and made sure she was steady. He whispered in her ear. 'You are doing very well my darling. Other ponies I've trained have given up long before we've reached this stage.' Other ponies? Of course there must be others but she felt a pang of jealousy all the same. 'I'm going out of the room for a few moments. You have the ball still?' She moaned. 'And will keep it?' She moaned again clenching the ball in her sweaty hand. Thoughtfully, Peter turned off the hot camera lights and dimmed the main lights as he left her to her contemplation.
The contrast of the two types of sensation and the numerous sites made it impossible to focus and cancel any one part and before very long she felt her conscious mind slip into a similar trance like state she had sometimes achieved at Yoga. Slowly the waves of pain started to gang up to attack her she was brought back with a jolt as she attempted to counter them. At last attrition won and she found it easier to let go and drown in their dark warm embrace and allow herself to float on the surface of the sea of sensations they created for her. Her consciousness bobbed like a tiny piece of insignificant froth and she found herself swaying gently almost encouraging the pain to wash her away.
Suddenly the room was filled with harsh light and her mind returned with a jolt. She wobbled desperately trying not to fall and blinked to clear her vision. Peter was also naked, a gratifying sight at the best of times but, given the size of the quivering erection he sported, even more so.
'Still with us?' he enquired casually stroking his shaft. 'No, I've had my hair done, been out with my mates and settled down with a box of choccies to watch a soap on TV,' she thought sarcastically and added in her mind, 'it's about a poor wannabe pony girl who went to sleep and woke up as a washing line!' Instead, she slowly nodded. 'Time to remove the pegs then' he said. Lucinda nodded harder. 'Sure?' She was grateful she couldn't speak and merely looked back at him with a 'I'm sure I'm fucking sure!' look. He laughed. 'For that you should be punished, but first let me sort these pegs out.' Lucinda sighed with relief. To her absolute horror he simply pushed them off her tortured flesh and let them nip their vicious jaws at empty space as they cascaded to the floor. The pain was excruciating but she felt - hoped - it was like having a plaster removed, quick and cruel to be kind. Thankfully at last the final peg was gone and he undid her gag. She sucked a lungful of air and was about to voice her thanks when he put a finger to his lips as though waiting for something. Without warning, from thousands of abused nerve ending numbed and suddenly revitalised with blood, her torment returned tenfold. She held back a scream and felt her eyes fill with tears. Peter merely shrugged and walked from her to the table. He was no longer controlling her pain and it was dire. 'Oh shit love it's agony, help me! Make it stop!' she squealed He turned holding a short stick with twenty or so floppy suede ribbons on the end. 'Manners?' he asked. 'Please, anything, please.' He nodded and stood feet akimbo behind her. She saw him raise his arm and, as though in slow motion, watched the whip swipe around her side and the ribbons smite her aching breast as he followed through his forehand stroke. She screamed. 'Silence or the gag returns!' he shouted. A back hand to her other breast and two more blows on each until the ache seemed to emanate from the very marrow in her ribs. She bit her tongue and her tears stung her eyes. Through the blur, on the screen she saw him take a step back and start the assault on her buttocks. These seared and filled with fire as he casually flicked from side to side like a pasha shooing away flies. Suddenly her hyper sensitised labia and inner thighs received a blow that felt like she'd been kicked. Then another. And another. She moaned continuously and he settled into a rhythm. Breast, breast, cheek, cheek, sex. Breast, breast, cheek, cheek, sex. It was relentless and impossible to resist and she felt the sweat trickle from her armpits to match the tears on her cheeks. When she felt she could take no more she again entered that dream-like space and her body and all its suffering fluttered away like a discarded tissue. She went limp and P caught her by the wrist strap. He simultaneously entered her and drove up so hard she was jerked momentarily off the floor. With one arm wrapped around her waist he massaged her breasts until, seconds later, she came as she had hoped.
From deep in her breasts to her nipples she came.
From the depths of her belly to her fingers and toes she came.
From her vagina to the core of her womb she came. In shuddering, spastic ripples the sensation filled her. He grunted through gritted teeth, hugged her to him, arched his back and also filled her. In his climax his fingers sought her clitoris and every nerve in her body joined the chorus as she bathed in the waves of pleasure that replaced and far exceeded her pain. Then a rushing noise filled her ears and everything went black.
Chapter 14 - Bath, bed and breakfast
She awoke to find herself on the couch with her restraints removed and Peter gently stroking her forehead. 'What happened?' she asked. 'You fainted my darling' She rolled her head a little. 'That's never happened before.' 'It's the endorphins and sudden changes in blood flow, it makes unusual demands on the body especially when you are bound like that.' She smiled up at him, 'Whatever you say Master,' and added, 'Might the fucking have had anything to do with it or was that a dream?' He laughed and kissed her, 'No dream, I imagine you have the evidence to prove it too!' Lucinda clamped her thighs together to withhold the precious fluid and wrapped an arm around his neck. Pulling him down to her she parted her lips and savoured his tongue exploring her mouth. At last they broke. 'Thank you Peter, that was quite an experience' she purred. 'Thank you Lucinda, for me too. Now we should get you cleaned up.' She grinned mischievously up at him. 'May I let go of this now?' She held out the small red ball and he laughed and hugged her tight. 'I'll keep it as a memento of my first lesson. The first of many I hope!' 'I'd be delighted to oblige. Now, if her ladyship is ready, her bath awaits.' Lucinda started to get to her feet and fell back again. Peter slid his powerful arms under her and, lifting her up, carried her to the bathroom. As they made their way, Lucinda snuggled up to his arm and peeked up at him. 'I hope that smell is you and not me?' she asked. 'You mean the sweaty, shagged, female pony smell?' 'Hmm, well, if you put it like that...' she pouted.
He gently lowered her into the bath and added some more hot water. 'How come?' she asked. 'I ran it when you were, er, appreciating the pegs.' 'That was quite something, where did you learn all that stuff?' He smiled and put his finger on her lips. 'Hush now, let me tidy up while you have a soak and I'll come back and wash your back,' 'OK love' she murmured as she started to doze off.
Lucinda awoke again to the delightful sensation of having her breasts massaged gently with moisturising soap. Peter worked his way down over her belly to her bruised thighs and legs. Lucinda smiled at him dreamily and watched as he carefully lifted her leg and placed it on his shoulder, she slithered down to let his fingers explore and heal her aching sex. To her amazement and delight she found herself getting tremendously aroused again and placed her other heel on the opposite side of the bath. Peter slid his two middle fingers into the slickness of her vagina and caressed her clitoris with his thumb. He leant over and massaged more suds into her nipples and breasts. 'Oh my God love' she panted and, tensing briefly, slipped smoothly into another orgasm.
After a few moments, she opened her eyes to him and murmured, 'Is there no end to your talents?' He gazed down at her innocently, 'Me? I'm merely the guide you are the explorer. Tell me where you'd like to go and I'll devise the best route.' 'OK, at the moment bed wouldn't be such a bad idea.' She grinned lasciviously, 'I haven't eaten yet and have just the thing in mind!'
The following morning Lucinda's hunger for food overcame her desire to stay sprawled in Peter's huge bed and she padded into the kitchen wearing only a hand towel as a pareo. Peter was in a robe and sat reading the Saturday paper. She had noticed when she glanced into the sitting room en route that it had been tidied but still held many delights for her. She was unconsciously rubbing her naked breasts as her body remembered her first lesson. 'You look divine' Peter said taking in her naked breasts and the scrap of cloth. 'I didn't pack a robe and this came to hand' she said as she gave a catwalk turn. The toast popped up. 'With Marmite I presume?' he asked. She grinned as she sipped the orange juice he'd put out for her and nodded, 'It's very good for you...' she started but Peter held up his hand. 'Enough!' he cried. As she munched her breakfast Peter asked her how she felt. She commented that she aware of a little tenderness but apart from that, felt wonderful. She poured some coffee and put two more slices of bread into the toaster. Peter raised an eyebrow. 'I'm hungry!' she explained. 'So, dearest Master, what's today's plan?' 'Well, the boots I mentioned last night. Then fitting your tack I think.' 'Really? Am I really ready?' 'Certainly, you are a star pupil and...' He paused. 'What?' she asked. He reached and held her hand, 'There is something else I'd like to try, I was going to wait a week or two, but I think you could handle it.' She suspected what he was leading too as she had made her concerns about anal penetration clear in the past. 'The tail you mean?' Peter nodded, 'I won't pursue it I you are uncertain,' he hastily said. Lucinda placed her hand over his and looked into his eyes, 'My love, I promised you last week at the Club. You have helped me overcome a lot of old hang-ups and shed some considerable emotional baggage. You showed me last night that something I'd previously regarded as abusive and degrading could lead to such wonderful and enlightening experiences. I trust you completely.' She lowered her gaze. 'My body is totally yours Master, take it as you will and please let my mind tag along and learn.' He stood and, as he hugged her to him, Lucinda felt the strength beneath his terry robe wrap around her and protect her from her own misgivings.
Chapter 15 - Shopping and soapy water
It was mid-afternoon before they returned to the flat. After a few 'phone calls, Lucinda had located some shops that seemed to stock the sort of boots Peter wanted for her and they'd gone for her fitting. Lucinda thought she was bad when it came to clothes shopping but Peter's fastidiousness and excruciating attention to detail was starting to drive her as mad as some of the poor assistants that attended to them. At last Peter seemed satisfied and they made a return detour via the supermarket where, unusually as Lucinda was the one with the culinary flair, he took great care in inspecting and selecting a range of fruit and vege. Lucinda wandered off to explore the cosmetics thinking that, at last, he was showing some interest in his nutrition.
'Before we start...' Peter began as they unloaded the bags and Lucinda's heart sank expecting a lecture, 'I want to start preparing you for your tail.' 'Really? Now?' she brightened and felt her anus involuntarily tighten. 'Yes. Of course. Now is a good a time as any and it will improve your posture.' She beamed at him. 'When did you last go to the bathroom?' he enquired. 'In the pub where we had lunch, why?' she was lost. 'I meant emptied your bowels woman!' 'Duh! Sorry love, I understand now. This morning, after brekkie.' 'OK, go and try again then get into a nice hot bath, I'll be with you in a while.' She dutifully complied with meagre results and took the opportunity to inspect her body for evidence of the previous night's entertainment. Apart from some redness around her breasts and a few tiny marks on her buttocks and thighs, she was remarkably unscathed, again a testament to his skill she thought.
Peter arrived carrying what looked like a translucent polythene hot water bottle with a long red rubber tube attached. She looked up at him questioningly. 'An enema bag, my innocent one.' 'Oh' is all she could muster. Matron used to threaten girls with an enema when she was at school, paraffin or something highly improbable, but she never discovered anyone who'd actually had one let alone seen one in the flesh so to speak. 'That's not paraffin is it?' she asked. Now Peter looked puzzled. 'No, warm soapy water. Why in blazes paraffin?' 'No matter, it's something I heard at school.' Peter shook his head. His regard for single sex English public schools was not high at the best of times and now Lucinda felt she'd given him further fuel for his prejudices. She tried to change the subject. 'So, what happens?' she asked. Peter slipped into his patronising mentor mode. She preferred him to be more forthright but appreciated his willingness to allay her fears. 'Simple really,' he began. 'This bit,' he waggled the bag of water, 'goes up high.' He attached the hook on the bag to the curtain rod. 'And this bit,' he held a slender nozzle in his fist, 'goes up your pretty little virgin ass!' Lucinda gulped and he pointed to a clamp on the hose a few inches above the nozzle. 'When I release this, the rest should be obvious.' Lucinda nodded. 'Will it hurt?' 'Not if you relax and do as I say, I'm only going to give you two or three pints the first few times until you get used to it.' Pints! Lucinda thought, US pints she hoped. Peter picked up a plastic bottle from the counter and squirted some clear gel into his hand then rubbed it liberally over the nozzle. 'Now, before it gets cold, roll over onto your left side and bring your right leg up.' Peter knelt down beside the bath while Lucinda splashed about as he shoved and coaxed her hips until her buttocks and anus were well clear of the water and she had rested her knee on the edge in front of her chest. She peered over her shoulder at her buttocks and felt very vulnerable. Peter squirted some of the gel along her exposed divide then ran his fingertips lightly up and down massaging her sphincter gently on each passing stroke. After an initial shock of the cool gel Lucinda felt a warm glow spread from her perineum across her anus to the base of her spine and decided this wasn't so bad after all. Gradually she felt him carefully part her cheeks and probe and explore the ring of muscle until she was sure he had managed to insert a finger. 'OK?' he asked. 'Yes love, it's rather pleasant.' His finger slid in and out and she found herself starting to get aroused. 'Mmmm, I could get used to this' she purred. 'That's the general idea my darling' he laughed and added 'A sadly under-utilised part of the anatomy in vanilla sex. The anus has as many nerves as your fingertips, it is very sensitive.' Sensitive she agreed, but whether you could read Braille with your ass was another thing all together. 'Well, how absurd,' she thought 'they'd have to put the buttons in elevators on stalks.' Peter knelt over and reached for the clamp. She peered over at her rear. The nozzle was buried to its hilt and she'd not noticed it enter. 'I'm only going to give you a bit at a time and it will feel very strange at first but don't worry, it can't hurt you. You will start to have a strong urge to defecate but please try to resist this as long as possible. The feeling will soon pass and I'll help you with some tricks to ease the discomfort. If you feel you can bear it no longer please shout and get on the loo!' The loo was right next to the bath; she wondered what all the fuss was about. 'OK love, I think I understand. Bath - loo. Loo - bath.' She teased as she waved her arm and pointed, cabin crew like, to the items. He smiled, 'Be thankful I'm not one of the grooms at the stables, they are much rougher and would use cold water in you for that remark.' Stables? What stables? What grooms come to that? Again the feeling of not quite having been dealt a full hand of cards came to her. She forgot the matter as she felt the air trapped in the tube bubble into her rectum. This was followed by a sensation of needing to expel the fluid, but she managed to contain herself easily although she could feel the pressure start to increase. 'Oh dear' she finally murmured. 'Hold it!' commanded Peter as he clamped the tube. 'Roll over on your back a little.' She carefully moved her leg down as he threaded the pipe around and she lay flat on her back with him holding the nozzle in place his wrist rubbing reassuringly on her crotch. 'That's better, thanks love' 'Your welcome,' he said. 'The water fills the descending colon - the bit on the left first. It will now be running across the top - the transverse colon. Much more room up there.' He said confidently. Lucinda was not overly reassured. The bag looked as though it was still mighty full but at least the level was going down much quicker now and ominous gurgles and rumbles emanated from her abdomen. Lucinda giggled at the noise. 'Hmmm, not the most elegant of pastimes' she observed. 'But it will be worth it, you'll see.' A cramping in her gut suddenly gripped her. 'Oh Jesus!' she grimaced and tried to double up. 'Relax my darling.' Peter coaxed and started to rub her swollen belly with firm strokes. The feeling passed again but she felt now she really did have to go. 'Please love. I'm not sure I can hold it any longer.' Peter looked up at the bag. It was nearly empty. 'Just a bit more then it's done' he said as he rolled her slightly to the right. A few moments later little thrill ran up her anus and he held the nozzle aloft with a flourish. 'There! All gone.' He continued to massage her six-month swollen belly and was rewarded with more sloshing noises. 'Aw love, I can feel it kicking' she joked. 'I hope to God not!' he exclaimed. 'Not a chance' she grinned, 'Thank Heavens for little coils. Although with your performance over the past week or so, it'd better be a damned big coil!' She even felt slightly nauseous and, rubbing her big belly, did however ponder pregnancy as she stared at Peter. 'Could he be the one?' she thought. Time for brooding was over, a massive spasm hit her without warning and she leapt up. 'Contractions! Loo! Now!' she screamed pushing Peter over backwards as she threw herself at the lavatory and gave vent to a positive deluge before she'd even hit the seat. Two more spasms gripped her and she left control of her sphincter to its own devices. Peter, bless him, clawed his way back to her and cradled her head on his shoulder. 'Oh God, I feel terrible' she murmured 'You never told me it would be like this.' 'It will soon pass, I promise.' She peered up at him feeling the sweat cooling on her forehead and upper lip. 'Is that so? And how many times have you had this done to you?' 'I speak from considerable indirect experience as I'm sure you know and, as your Master, I'm telling you it will be OK.' Lucinda grunted, admiring his confidence but worried about the 'considerable'. Just how many explosively crapping women had their been in his life? As if on cue her bowels cramped again and, damn him, if he wasn't right, this one was easier. She twisted and flushed the loo but stayed put and flopped back against the tank feeling, literally, drained. 'You OK hon?' he asked. She nodded, 'It's going thank God.' 'OK, I'll go and prepare the next part of the training. You stay here for a while' Thankfully he left the room. Although she found his care and concern immensely touching and loved him for it, she still wasn't over happy at, as he would put it, having a good dump with him around especially considering the malodorous legacy she was producing.
She swivelled around to face the adjacent bidet and filled it with warm water. Then taking a chance in crossing the gap mounted the white bowl and washed herself down. The worst of the cramps seemed to have subsided apart from an occasional flutter and she felt emptied and surprisingly refreshed, even light headed. Was this what the colonic irrigation freaks were hooked on? She stood and dried herself as the water ran out of the bath then washed and coiled up the enema gear. The bag said 'Medium - 2L'. So much for a 'couple of pints', he'd put half a gallon in her. She hated to contemplate 'Large', she imagined you'd bounce back up like one of those toys if someone pushed you over. Ever the pragmatist, she sat again and managed one final dribble. She brushed her hair and gave herself a hefty blast of body spray, then, as an afterthought, she gave the bathroom a long spray as well before wandering off to find out what Peter was up to.
Chapter 16 - Anal training
He'd moved the big leather pouffe in the sitting room to the spot where she'd stood the previous evening and set up one of the cameras to the side pointing at it. Beneath the pouffe and extending for a couple of metres up to the camera was a another plastic sheet. He looked up, 'Ah! Just in time. How are you feeling now hon?' 'Pretty good considering, thanks,' she smiled. 'Whatcha up to?' He appeared to have misheard her question and patted the top of the pouffe. 'Kneel down and lie on here a moment, he commanded. She did so and he grunted before tapping her rear. 'Up a moment.' After trying various combinations he eventually added a dense foam block at the edge and arranged her such that her belly and hips rested on this and were raised with the rest of her upper body sprawled across the leather surface. He'd even provided a pillow for her head. She gazed at the now familiar image of her anus and sex on the screen. She made her mouth resemble the vertical lips and mouthed 'Hi' to them. 'Tail?' she enquired. 'All in good time. You are by no means ready yet. Here, look at this.' He held the smaller blue butt plug with a bulbous part almost the size of a small Satsuma in front of her face. 'Bloody Hell!' she exclaimed and the image of her anus shrunk to a tiny dot. 'You've gotta be kidding?' 'My darling,' he said calmly, 'By the end of this afternoon you will have had this and much more inside you and welcome it gladly.' Lucinda remained to be convinced and glanced to the much bigger black plug that was twice the size and was thankful at least that it wasn't that one. He added, 'It will prepare you for future training, particularly at the Stables where, I think I mentioned, they are not so gentle. Again the reference to these 'Stables'?
'Anyway, no more chatter. Look and learn,' he directed. 'Yes Master' she murmured and folded her arms under the pillow then snuggled down to watch. As during the previous evening's training, the visual detachment gave the whole thing a slightly unreal feel as though she was watching another person. Peter went into lecture mode again. 'The anus is a remarkably elastic ring of muscle. It can stretch to alarming diameters when properly conditioned but the delicate membranes of your rectum and the skin just inside can tear very easily. The aim is to gradually increase the opening without forcing and causing damage.' 'Now, since you were born your anus and bowels have been learnt to expel waste matter.' 'Hmm, I noticed that' she muttered, starting to get fed up, 'some I people I know even use their mouths,' she added, giggling. He smacked her raised rump, 'Shush, this is important.' Lucinda reached back and patted his hand. He moved it and ignored her. 'By repeatedly expelling objects, you quickly get to learn how to relax your muscles at will. If you don't manage this and tense up, I can assure you it is very painful. So, time for some games.' 'At last!' she thought and, resting on her forearms, wiggled her rear up at him like an excited puppy ready to play. She watched him drag the coffee table closer and noticed that next to all the dildo things was a bowl of fruit, presumably from the supermarket earlier. This bowl sat inside another bowl that he placed between her knees. He held a much bigger bottle of gel over the fruit and liberally covered the fruit. 'OK, no peeking. Guess the fruit!' She closed her eyes and felt something round insinuate itself at the entrance to her anus. 'Grape' she said. 'Just remember them, test later.' She nodded. One by one the process was repeated with more items of fruit until they slipped in with the minimum of resistance. Six grapes and six cherries she reckoned. 'OK, expel them and watch the screen,' he instructed. She bore down and was rewarded with the view of a shiny dark red sphere peek out of her anus. With slightly more effort the cherry shot out closely followed by a rain of red and green fruit. 'Tada!' she cried, 'Six of each?' Peter applauded. 'Very good. Now again.' She rested her head and closed her eyes again and the game continued and she gave up counting and identifying the items until she felt something much larger forced into her followed by another and another. This time she felt some internal discomfort and shifted her position on the block. 'I'm going to need the loo again soon love,' she said. 'In a moment, watch now.' Her anus spread and spread around a deep purple core and a Victoria plum finally plopped into the bowl. She expelled the next one with a practiced squeeze and then the last. Amazingly her anus stayed half open gaping at her like a hungry mouth and she watched it slowly close until Peter placed the tip of a lemon at its lips. 'Now, I know you have nothing to expel, but pretend and do so, just like the plums.' Lucinda bore down again and, with a slight twinge, the lemon slid in. 'Crikey!' she exclaimed. 'It won't get stuck in there will it?' 'No way,' he laughed, 'there are some 30 odd feet of plumbing above that all designed to send things downwards.' 'But I saw some Web pages at work. Emergency Room X-Rays or something.' Peter laughed. 'Oh those. They are people who are mad enough to stick objects with sharp edges or weird shapes up there. I have no such plans. Don't fear... and give me my lemon back!' Lucinda squeezed very hard and, again with a slight twinge, the lemon appeared. She was amazed. She wouldn't have even suspected that her buttocks could part that far let alone her anus. 'Again?' she requested. He chuckled and obliged and she dutifully returned it. They repeated this four more times and the twinges had vanished completely but the friction of the peel replaced these with a much more exciting sensation that seem to find its way to her clitoris. Peter stood. 'Time for a break if you need the bathroom' he said offering Lucinda his hand. 'Aw' she pouted, 'Just when it was getting interesting.' 'Well hurry up then Miss Cocky Sod and we'll get onto some serious stuff.'
Lucinda skipped off to the loo and found that her bowels had filled with a sort of brown mucous that she disposed of. When she washed herself in the bidet she fingered her anus and marvelled at how it now pouted like her vulva that she fingered with her other hand, she even managed to get two fingers up there. Without really thinking she let her fingers drift up to her clitoral hood and stroked herself until she heard Peter calling.
'What have you been doing?' he demanded, 'Playing with yourself?' She flushed appropriately. 'Hmmm, we'll be getting around to self-gratification later. Remember your body is now mine, frigging yourself off without permission is tantamount to theft.' 'Hardly,' she thought but got his drift. 'Yes Master' she said in a hopefully suitably humble voice.
She looked down at the coffee table. The fruit bowls had gone and the dildos were well slicked and lined up like some crack task force standing to attention and waiting for the 'off'. At the end was the dumpy blue butt plug. This time a thrill ran through her bowels and loins.
She willingly assumed the position and even managed to make her anus open a little. Peter insisted on blindfolding her so that she could concentrate on the experience. One after the other, Peter worked at her with the instruments and, in the heat of the lights and the pleasurable sensations warming her, she drifted off into her special space again with only the occasional twinge and feeling of extreme fullness distracting her. With one particularly difficult item that Lucinda presumed was the blue plug she felt herself opening wider and wider until she feared she'd tear as he had described and whimpered slightly but, slowly and surely, the object found its way in and her anus closed around the narrower neck. He repeated this two more times and the sharp twinges reduced to a slight lingering ache as the plug found its natural home with its collar pressing on the flesh around her anus. She now praised Peter for insisting she was empty before they started, the thick bulb of the plug seemed to reach up into her very core and she felt all sorts referred sensations in her abdomen from her bowels and even up to her chest and shoulders. When she shifted to relieve the more uncomfortable of these, the object seemed fixed as though he held it in place. Just when it was getting almost painful she was delighted to feel Peter's fingers stroking her clitoris. 'Oh yes my darling' she murmured blissfully and thrust her sex back which impaled her further and indirectly heightened the sensations in front. Lucinda smiled to herself when his fingering stopped and she heard the sound of a zip. A force on the butt plug lifted her a fraction and she felt his penis slide into her vagina and his fingering resumed. They gradually built up a rhythm with the plug controlling her and forcing her back and forth on the leather pouffe and onto him. She parted her legs even further and, pressing down with her arms, arched her back and rode his penis as his weight on the plug coaxed her along. At length he froze and she felt the plug press deeply into her as he jetted again and again. Mercifully, his fingering resumed and her own shuddering orgasm shook her until she clamped down hard on him and the plug and went over the brink again. Spent, they both sank down, panting. Peter lay on top of her and kissed her neck and ear and, after a few moments, removed the blindfold. All she could see on the screen was Peter's scrotum and much hairier anus. 'God love, that was wonderful.' She paused for breath; 'You were right, I did take it!' she turned and kissed him. He returned the kiss and nodded over at the coffee table. The blue plug still lay there, greased and obviously used but now discarded. She looked down at her buttocks and Peter sat back grinning. A circle of black sat in the centre of her buttocks. 'But that's incredible!' she cried. 'I can't believe it's possible. It's not really the big one?' He pushed the collar up slightly and she saw her anus, tightly stretched and light purple, encircling the wide neck of the black plug with its bulb pulling her rectum outwards. Peter smiled, 'Push it out and you'll see.' Lucinda leant forwards, arched her back again and bore down with all her strength and recent experience. 'It's stuck!' she squealed. He kissed her neck again and stroked around her anus. 'It's not hon, just relax and breathe gently.' He slipped his fingers under the rim and slowly, with many sharp twinges, her ring expanded and expanded stretching white until the obese thing appeared and lost its tenacious hold on bowels with a sucking slurp. 'Thank God!' she muttered, relieved that she wasn't going to join the A & E statistics and suffer the consequent embarrassment. He sat back on his haunches, plug and penis dripping sticky fluid onto the mat. Correspondingly on the screen Lucinda observed her twin orifices pulsating slightly as they gaped and relinquished their own fluids. Lucinda gazed incredulously at her dilated anus and could even make out the inner surface of her rectum in the camera lights. Gradually her newly discovered 'erogenous zone' closed its mouth and she took Peter's hand and kissed it. 'Thank you Master' she breathed, 'but promise me one thing?' 'Yes my sweet, what is it?' 'Please, please, please don't tell me we are eating fresh fruit salad for dinner!' She was rewarded with a stinging blow on her buttocks that sprayed gel all over them both.
They stood in the bath and washed each other using the hand-held shower. Peter douched Lucinda's vagina and anus until she stopped expelling semen and mucous and she returned the favour by filling her mouth with water from the nozzle, then bathing his penis.
Suitably cleansed, powdered and again wrapped in towelling robe and pareo, Lucinda cooked some tagliatelli with tomato and basil sauce. The fruit had been safely disposed of down the chute. They sat at the breakfast bar in Peter's minimalist kitchen and were just finishing the dish when Peter looked up the clock. 'It's nearly 9pm' he said, 'do you want to start on the pony stuff now?' Lucinda was ambivalent, 'Yes, I do, very much but I also want to be awake enough to enjoy it. What time do you have to leave tomorrow?' 'I'm in London this week, Monday morning start,' he beamed. 'Yippee!' she cried, 'Then I'd prefer tomorrow, bright and early if that's alright?' 'Sounds great to me. By the way, why don't you stay here this week? It will help us consolidate your training.' She grinned, 'Aw, love. You're so romantic... 'Consolidate my training' indeed!' 'You know what I mean.' 'Yes, that'd be great, but I need to get some stuff from my flat. I can't go to work as a pony!' 'Oh I don't know, maybe you'd win an animal feeds client?' His gaze wandered over her, perched on the stool, and took in her naked breasts and the small skirt of the hand towel, 'or even in your Sharon Stone beaver shot gear?' She raised her arms and, wiggling her breasts at him, made a show of crossing and re-crossing her legs. He was pensive for a moment then grinned. 'What?' she asked. 'Nothing. Just an idea. OK, we'll pop over to your flat tomorrow and get your stuff. But what do you want to do this evening?' She thought a moment and smiled. 'Well. We could finish that pistachio ice cream I saw in your freezer. Then pour ourselves another drink and snuggle up in bed and watch some old soppy movie?' She could see that he was not overly taken with the idea, so she went on, 'Of course, given the crap on TV lately, it's likely that we'd get bored pretty quickly and, I'd probably gulp my drink down and end up with ice cubes in my mouth.' Peter's interest was now aroused, 'And?' he asked with a grin. She raised her foot under his robe then placed it between his legs as she played with a rogue piece of tagliatelli and popped the end into her mouth. As she slowly sucked the rest in, she added, 'And... I could finish the blow job I started in the shower earlier?' She stroked his scrotum with her toes and swallowed the pasta noisily. 'But, if you have anything else in mind, I'm all ears?' He shifted and started to get up. She looked miffed. 'Oh. Where are you going?' 'To fetch the ice cream,' he replied.
Chapter 17 - Boots and peeing
Lucinda awoke to the taste of fresh brewed coffee as Peter's lips replaced the part of his anatomy she'd last recalled kissing. He kissed her. 'Come on sleepy head, work to do!' He commanded and ripped of the covers. She curled into a foetal ball and cowered. The crop he carried cracked only once on a naked buttock and, without a sound, she shot out of bed and stood to attention like an army recruit at reveille. Peter smiled as he prodded her breasts then ran the crop up between her legs. 'Very impressive. I hope this is a sign of your obedience for the rest of today?' Lucinda nodded, eyes downcast. Peter led the way out of the bedroom, 'Come!' he called. Lucinda smiled at his swaggering back as he left, 'Oh yes Master, that I have every intent of doing that!' she muttered under her breath as she followed mimicking his gait.
He'd placed the new boots on the floor near the other pony items arranged on the table. Lucinda was very pleased to see a tray carrying a blonde tail, the assortment of phallic objects, latex gloves and the ubiquitous bottle of gel. Sadly no pegs in sight though. She trotted to the centre of the room and stood proudly on the plastic sheet, arms behind her and legs slightly apart. He didn't seem prepared for such immediate acquiescence and spent a few moments fiddling with the computer and cameras. Finally her double image appeared with a golden glow cast by the morning sun that bathed the room from the large picture window. She looked out over the Thames and Battersea. He had certainly managed to land a great flat for his time in Europe and she compared it with her utilitarian hole in Wimbledon. It was disturbing how quickly one could get into a dull routine and regard it as living she thought with regret. OK, she went clubbing and 'had a good time' with her colleagues from the agency. But even their partying seemed proscribed. This was possibly due to the number of clients that expected her to persuade them to tag along. In the reality of the morning light it was also clear that bedding the aforementioned was also often expected. Was she really simply a common slut dressed up to look 'professional'? She reflected upon the implied general availability of 'slaves' she'd read about in the references Peter had given her for homework the previous week. At least they knew they were available and were able to make that choice. Pony-play took this freedom of choice to a new level and was bounded by strict rules about behaviour as she was finding out. And today was the day she felt she would truly become a pony. Behind Peter's back she waved her arms in a silent cheer with her virtual sisters on the screen as they performed their last act as a female humans for the rest of the day.
Peter's attention caught the screen. He muttered from the corner. 'What are you doing?' She smiled sweetly and, bathed by their golden halos, she and her images made a triptych of naked innocence and vulnerability. All was needed now was a long blonde wig and a scallop shell, she thought. She covered her pubis and pouted coyly. He turned off the projector and she let out a small noise of disappointment. 'You can see the final result' he said.
At last Peter was done. He stroked his chin as he pondered the tack. 'Boots first' he stated.
They had found two shops that supplied what Peter wanted, the first was an amazing craft cobblers in Covent Garden that, to Lucinda's surprise, had not only heard of pony-play, they actually took commissions to make boots. For the time being, however, Peter bought her a lovely pair of simple, brown leather ankle boots with moderate heels that were made for 'petite' women to give extra height and were both flattering and practically comfortable. 'For exercising' Peter explained as Lucinda peered him at almost eye level. Lucinda was so taken with them, he let her wear them on the way back to the flat and, for once in her life, she could see over the aisles in the supermarket.
After the sublime, came the ridiculous. Peter insisted they visit a fetish shop in Soho that was a veritable Aladdin's Cave of mostly tacky 'bedroom wear' that polarised into the fluffy pink end of the spectrum to the studded black. No stereotyping there then, Lucinda thought. He chose some ludicrously high boots made of some form of stretchy vinyl with spiky stiletto heels and a tangle of laces that were supposed to run up the front. To Lucinda's immense relief even Peter's fastidiousness stopped at having the assistant, a person of dubious gender that came from the studded black clan and who's skin was more studded that his/her clothing, lace them up for Lucinda to try. She merely tried the shoe part for size - 'M'. Lucinda was no twinkle toes, so who were L and XL aimed at? Rugby and basketball players unwinding after a hard day's play? Even Peter could have probably got into XL. 'Now there's an interesting variation' she thought.
It was this pair that Peter selected for the training session. He steadied her as she slipped her feet into the boots. As she teetered atop the ridiculous heels, half expecting to be able to see the South Downs now, she listened to Peter cursing and sighing as he threaded and threaded yards of lacing. He worked his way up a few inches per boot at a time. As the sides came together Lucinda felt both supported and restricted and it became much easier to stand without fear of plunging head first into the Thames. At last he sat back on his heels and looked up at her. From the look on his face, he seemed very pleased with his handiwork and Lucinda realised how used to seeing the screen images she'd become. He stood and held her left hand. 'Lift your right leg,' he commanded and she wobbled terribly for a moment as she raised her leg. The tight boots considerably reduced her flexibility and after a few feeble down kicks with her heel, Peter told her to put her leg down and squat a little. She bobbed down and the laces and boots creaked alarmingly but eventually eased. When she now lifted her leg, it bent gracefully at the knee. She repeated the action with her left leg and spent a few moments doing an exaggerated high stepping march on the spot. 'Good?' Peter asked. Lucinda nodded and squeezed his hand. 'Not too tight?' She shook her head. Peter started to fold up the excess laces and threaded them down the front of the boots. He walked to the table and picked up another of his mysterious rattling velvet bags. With a flourish he produced a pair of tiny padlocks that appeared to be more show than function, but he still attached one to the top of each boot effectively making the knots impossible to undo without the keys that, disturbingly, she'd not yet seen. He stood back and nodded, looking even more pleased this time. Lucinda looked down and saw her naked thighs merge into two slender shafts of shiny black. The taper of her legs coupled with the ladder of the laces enhanced the perspective and made her legs seem to go on forever. She beamed at him. They did look very good indeed and, with great care, she gave a couple of unsupported steps. Her confidence growing, she swayed a little to make the locks jiggle and to impress Peter. He then produced a pair of long gloves that matched the boots. Now she knew why he'd been so eager to return for the boots. He slipped these on her laced them up with the same frustrating diligence. He locked these into place as well and she flexed her fingers and performed an opening Tai Chi form by caressing an imaginary ball of energy between them. Her limbs looked like sinuous black serpents.
From the smile on his face, she judged this an opportune moment to bring up a subject that had been worrying her since he was about halfway up her legs. 'May I speak please Master?' He looked at her sternly and glanced at the ball-gag lying on the table. She put on her most plaintiff look and, after a few moments impasse, he said, 'Yes, what is it?' 'I absolutely love the gloves and boots and all the effort you've put in, they look and feel wonderful, but I didn't quite realise we were going to start so soon.' Her rambling seemed to annoy him further as she feared it might. 'And...?' he asked. She blurted it out, 'I need the loo and wasn't sure of the correct protocol as I'm supposed to be silent.' She smiled at him expectantly and, to her great relief, he laughed. 'Oh that! Well that's not a problem at all, I should have told you yesterday but we were both a bit pre-occupied. But you were right to ask. Let me show you a few simple signs.' Having feared his wrath and the crop, this was much better than she expected. 'Thanks love' she smiled. He suddenly gave her a black look. 'Oops, sorry! Thank you Master.' There was no mistaking the bounds he was setting her. 'Just remember that you are a pony from the time we start until I say we are done. Ponies do not speak.' She hung her shoulders and nodded. 'As you rightly indicated, however, there are some occasions when some simple questions need to be asked. Now, different Trainers have their own signs, but mine are all that matters for you for now.' 'Horses for courses?' Lucinda mused silently, 'or different strokes for different folks!' She barely suppressed a giggle, which didn't help her impending incontinence one iota. Peter continued, 'There are only a couple of basic signs...' Lucinda sighed with relief that this was not to be another seminar. 'Firstly, if you want to gain my attention, paw the ground like a horse would. Try it now.' Lucinda lifted her right foot and clumped it twice on the ground. 'Hmmm, hardly elegant, but I get the drift,' he commented, 'maybe some more practice will help?' 'No, please! Not now!' she silently screamed. 'Once you feel you have my attention, for most things just simply nod your head at the item or in the general direction. For example, a water trough, food, something unpleasant in the bedding, open the gate, and so on.' As he recited the list, Lucinda wondered how the Hell she was going to 'simply nod' her head at her bladder. 'In general though, just do what a horse or pony would. Think 'Pony Body Language'.' Lucinda recalled the amazing erotic display of this that Princess and El had given. P continued, 'When a pony intends to urinate or defecate and is stationary it raises its tail, stands with its legs slightly apart and sort of quivers before letting rip.' As an afterthought, he added, 'Of course on the move it's a very different matter, they just go!' he chuckled, 'but more about that another time.' If it wasn't for the damned boots Lucinda would have crossed her legs but at last he'd got there. 'So, where were we?' 'The bugger' she thought and suddenly realised he'd planned all this and was relishing her anguish. She dutifully patted the floor with her foot and looked at him. He casually looked her way and gave her a questioning look. She then arched her back a little, wiggled her rear and made a show of plonking her feet apart and thrust her crotch forward crudely. For added effect, she bent her head down and peered at her pussy then at the door a few times. He roared with laughter. 'That's great!' he cried. Much relieved, she stood up straight and held out her hand for assistance in staggering to the loo. Whether she'd actually be able to sit when she got there was another matter, but 'softly, softly, catchee monkey'. Peter totally ignored her. He strolled over to the wall where most of the furniture had been pushed and withdrew a stack of old newspapers. Lucinda had a sudden sinking feeling that was confirmed moments later when he unfolded between her legs a copy of the Financial Times. She peered down, mortified. Now, appealing as it was, pissing all over the London Stock Exchange wasn't quite what she had in mind at that very instance. 'You can't be serious!' she cried, to be rewarded with a stinging blow from the crop. 'You want to pee, pee!' he ordered and tapped the paper. Her eyes filled with tears of frustration and exasperation more than the pain. 'But...' she began. Another blow. This one hurt - a lot, and the tears started to flow. Peter went and sat in an armchair and stared at her crotch. She swallowed hard and sniffed back the tears. 'Make or break time, I guess?' she considered, then started to squat as far as the boots would let her. She moved her hand to part her lips with her fingers as she'd heard friends do when they'd had pissing matches against boys at school. At the time it didn't feature highly on her personal development plan but now she wished she'd been more attentive. Peter shot forward like a snake and her fingers recoiled instinctively before she even registered the blow. 'No hands woman! Do you want to be a pony or not?' Had he read her mind? Shaking, Lucinda put her gloved hands behind her back and rubbed her stinging fingers as she tried to urinate. To her horror, she couldn't! It was like those embarrassing occasions when she was in a deserted public loo in a strange place. Just as she was about to give her all, somebody would burst into the cubicle next to hers and noisily deposit their own Niagara and her urethra would act as though it was sucking up lemon juice. Peter tapping the sodding cane on his foot didn't help. Inspirationally, she stared at a barge on the Thames and all the surrounding water and, thankfully, the dam broke. She dared not look down for fear of stopping, but heard her cascade splatter all over the paper... ...and splatter... ...and splatter. When the final drop had dripped she looked down. 'Chri...!' she started to exclaim when she saw the puddle she, Colossus like, now straddled. Thankfully it came out as a cough. Lucinda thought Peter was as surprised as she was, he was like a child with a new toy, he marvelled at the mess and bent to fold over the sodden paper until he held a soggy pink bundle in his hand. He wrapped this in more paper and walked to the door. 'Remember. No hands.' He cautioned. 'I can check the recording.' Lucinda revised her previous rating to 'slimy, sneaky bugger' and stood trembling with desire to wipe the drying spray from her sex and thighs. Moments later the 'Swingometer' rocked back to simply 'sneaky bugger' as he returned with a handful of kitchen towels which he used to carefully wipe and polish her boots, but only finished with a, very rough, cursory rub between her legs. Peter's current status: add 'insensitive'. 'You can close your legs now,' he said softly and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks and eyes before cupping her breast in his hand then kissing her lightly on the lips. 'Well done, my Lucky Lady' Peter's current status: forgiven. Lucinda's current status: emotional puddle. She felt like crying.
Smiling, she pawed the floor. 'Yes?' he asked. She tossed her head, partly closed her eyes and pouted a 'Thank you' kiss at him. 'For that, my precious. A reward!' he laughed and she filled with delight.
Chapter 18 - Harness and plugs
At last they had got to the harness. Peter had Lucinda thread her arms through the straps and showed her the buckles that would normally be undone to allow the harness to be fitted even when the pony had their arms bound. It was a cross between a corset and a parachute harness made out of thick black leather straps that still smelt deliciously of the tanning. She was reminded of the handbag shops of her Mediterranean holidays. The wide belt had a row of eyelets regularly spaced around its top and bottom edges. A number of rings were fitted in some of these. At the rear were three buckles that Peter loosely threaded while he adjusted the rest of the straps. The two shoulder straps crossed between her breasts and passed over her shoulders where they joined a sort of back plate again with eyelets carrying some rings. A thinner, more pliant strap ran, like the seams on a bra, from the side of the back plate under each breast. Two further straps hung from the rear of the belt and dangled behind her legs. About a third of the way down these were joined by a single rivet carrying a ring. Peter tapped her legs wide apart and showed how these rear straps could be brought between the legs to enhance or constrain the buttocks and sex. It all seemed a bit of an anticlimax as the thing hung draped over her like a misshapen net.
Lucinda's chagrin turned to curiosity when Peter lifted the workbench over and, with a loud clank, erected it behind her. He made her turn around to face it. 'Bend over, legs apart and hands on here,' he said tapping the open wooden jaws with his crop. She looked at the piece of workshop clutter and frowned. He caught her view, 'Oh, not good enough for Her Ladyship eh?' he commented. 'Well I hadn't time to obtain a proper horse so this will have to do.' 'Horse? What was he on about?' thought Lucinda as she approached the bench. She firmly placed her feet about a metre apart and, stretching her arms up first, gave a couple of bends back and forward then flopped down and gripped the nearest wooden jaw letting her head hang under her arms as she peered about. 'Like the 'Lion' posture', she thought. Her booted legs looked even better from this view and she swayed and watched the crotch straps of the harness swing between them. Peter orbited her giving the occasional tap with the crop until her position was to his liking. The tightness of the boots really helped her now and she could feel her stretched muscles pulling her buttocks wide open for him. He suggested that she turn her toes in a little and she felt her anus pucker further as a result. Finally he stood besides her, lifted the rear straps over her back then shifted her hips until she could see the camera directly behind her with its single glass eye like a cannon aimed directly at her rear. She took the opportunity to playfully rub him with her hip and he chuckled then cupped her breasts and gave them a squeeze. 'Feeling a little frisky, are we?' he asked. She tossed her head and gave a pathetic attempt at a whinny.
She watched his inverted legs walk to the table and, making a face at the camera, thrust her anus at it and gave a few practice pushes. Images of the previous day filed her mind and she imagined the ring of pink muscle pouting, fish like, and hungry to be filled. Peter finished clattering about at the table and, with latex gloved hands, placed the dildo tray on the floor between her legs and knelt to one side. He picked up the gel and dribbled it down the divide of her buttocks until it dripped over her labia and onto the floor. Lucinda purred as he massaged and gently fingered her anus and she felt it relax and blossom open of its own accord. He then picked up the tapered dildo and its coolness replaced the warmth of his finger. He gently buggered her with this, occasionally fully withdrawing it, until she started to rock back on each inward thrust feeling it penetrate and dilate her further. The rhythm and sensations triggered memories of the last time she was penetrated in such a fashion and, folding her arms as a pillow on the bench, rested her cheek and started to drift into her mind space. Gradually the familiar twinges returned at each inward drive and started to increase in discomfort until something shot up inside her and stopped with part of it pressing on the surrounding area. Lucinda opened her eyes and saw the tapered dildo lying slickly in a pool of gel and the large black butt plug gone. She clenched her anal muscles and felt it sit snugly in place. It felt very good. Like welcoming an old friend He threaded the two crotch straps between her legs and along her groin onto two buckles set wide apart on the front of the belt such that they held the 'collar' of the plug firmly up against her crease and left her sex and belly exposed. It felt even better and Lucinda found herself relaxing to accommodate it further. She started to stand but Peter held her down. 'There's more,' he said, snapping off the gloves and putting on another pair. The discarded gloves lay like used condoms under her breasts 'At least they're not pink,' she though. He sat on his haunches and squirted more gel onto his fingers then smeared it liberally over her vulva relying on only his fingers to enlarge her. Her libido started to take over and she couldn't help notice the corresponding bulge in his trousers so she thrust down on his hand desperate for him to start on her clitoris. He playfully smacked her rear with his sticky hand. 'Hussy!' he laughed, and stopped his ministrations. She rocked at thin air trying fruitlessly to get the plug to stimulate her or, better still, to inspire Peter to put his bulge to work. Instead, to her delight, he picked up a large floppy dildo and placed its shiny plum-sized glans between her dripping lips. 'Sit on this then, my pretty!' he said as he pushed gently. Eagerly she thrust back and, with a long satisfying glide and visions of El filling her mind, she engulfed it until she felt it bang her cervix and she gave a little squeal. Annoyingly, unlike a real penis or the unstoppable El, this did not want to move. Instead, Peter attached another strap to the ring at the juncture of the straps in her crotch and the centre of her belt at the front and tightened it to hold the dildo in place. 'All done. Up you get and back to the spot,' he commanded and she gingerly pushed herself up as the twin objects shifted about inside her. He took her hand and helped her totter around and reassume her position. Working rapidly around the harness, Peter adjusted buckles and straps until she felt both of the welcome intruders nestle snugly into place and felt fully filled and content. He had also started to tighten the belt. This had the effect of pushing her bowels and uterus down and her rib cage and breasts up enhancing the sensations in both. She felt like a hyper-sensitised, erogenous hourglass. Looking down at her tightly cinched waist she was also very glad she'd skipped breakfast.
Instead of the strange double glove, Peter made her fold her arms behind her back and, using two Velcro straps threaded through the back plate rings, bound them tightly together. Her breasts perked up accordingly. Again, more tiny padlocks, and she rattled like Harry Houdini.
Next came the bridle and bit. Apart from the tail, this was the item that had most impressed her during her research. She had also seen some of the prices, and hated to think how much Peter had spent on this weekend that made her even more determined to help him enjoy it. With affection, she watched him pootling about by the window, loosening the buckles and shaking the straps. He walked to her wearing such an intense expression that she couldn't help herself. 'The best bit?' she said. Then she added, giggling, 'I'm sorry love. I just couldn't resist that!' He looked like thunder and she tensed herself awaiting the crop. It was worth the slight pain to lighten the proceedings slightly. After all this was pony-play. He just silently stared. 'Look. I really am sorry. You know how I am?' At last he spoke, 'That's three breaches.' She pouted, 'I was only teasing, can't we loosen up occasionally?' He held up four fingers, obviously not. 'OK, OK, you win... Master,' and she presented her rear to him. Five fingers. He ignored her offered buttocks and gripped her nipple tightly as he walked past and then dragged her back to the workbench as he squeezed harder. It ached horribly and she stood and watched as he placed the foam block of the day before on top of the bench. He unlocked and unclasped her arms, pointed at the floor at the end of the bench and snapped, 'Stand there. Now!'
