'96 Months' XXIII

Hurricane here. Over reported with an over abundance of caution.
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I spent the night suspended in the guest bedroom as a party favor to the Countess. By the time the party broke up, it was fortunately very late and the Countess only played with me for a few minutes before retiring.

The morning was different. I woke early and helplessly watched the Countess sleep for another two hours. Usually Paul or Paula would wake and hold up a special urn for me to urinate. But in the guest bedroom I just waited, hanging with my steel bands hooked to cables at the foot of the Countess’s bed.

I held back forever until finally Lantita knocked on the door and announced it was time for exercise. The Countess awoke and smiled at me then instructed Lantita to enter.

“Time for her exercise and cleansing, Countess.”

“Oh. Take her. I’ll spend time with her later.”

Lantita noticed me squirming on the hooks.

“Goodness, Countess. Did you let her go this morning?”

Lantita went into the adjoining bathroom as she spoke and retrieved the urn. I had never felt such relief when she held it under my split legs. It is very difficult to control the relevant muscles in such a position and I amazed myself at how long I had remained in need and not soiled the rug. Lantita and the Countess laughed as my strong flow hit the urn.

“I’ll remember to take care of her in the future.”

The Countess’s remark seemed ominous.

Lantita took me to the exercise room where I was stretched and then placed on a stair machine. The Countess later came to watch and found the sweat glistening from my colored skin to be intriguing.

“Have you considered training her on a cart? She’s not big enough to be functional but she’d be an interesting lead in a tandem team, if you pair her with a big girl.”

“I’ve had her out once or twice, but pony training isn’t really what we do here.”

Listening to the conversation while gasping for breath, I shuddered at the thought of being trained by the Countess. She stepped closer and placed a hand on by right buttock. I could not stop working my legs. My nose ring and clitoral ring were attached to elastic cords emanating from the front of the stair machine. If I failed to keep up with the steps, tension on the cords resulted in enormous pain.

“Very nice muscle structure. You’ve worked her well.”

“It’s for the canings, Countess. She can take much more with a good thick layer of muscle.”

“Yes. Of course. And the art work highlights it so well! Why don’t I take her out on the paths. I saw a cart in the stable and I’ll work her into a good lather. There’s no sight like the flesh of a well trained pony sweating under the firm hand of a good trainer. She’ll look very interesting with her coloring proudly displayed. And those buttocks need attention. I have just the instrument.”

“I think the Princess will be receptive. We have to work on Ten, the Latino, for a while. You remember he was recalcitrant last night.”

My hour on the stair machine expired. Lantita let the Countess attach a special leash to my nose ring. It was only about eighteen inches long and she used it to guide me outside to the open area between the house and stable.

There she adjusted my arm bands so that my elbows were painfully secured together. Remember reader, much time had been expended in stretching and this was typical of the results. With elbows touching, although uncomfortable I could still function. And for the Countess, this posture accentuated my breasts. She playfully cupped them and kneaded my nipples.

“Yes. You have been well trained.”

The Countess cleared the yard area and oddly turned two outdoor patio chairs on their sides.

From the stable the Countess found an interesting ten foot long bamboo pole. I had seen it hanging on the stable wall but never knew what it was for. She also wielded a long whip. The Countess hooked the short leash on my nose to the end of the bamboo pole which she referred to as a training tether. She then stepped back and took the end of the pole in her left hand. In her right, of course was the whip.

“Now, Little One. A little dressage work.”

As she spoke she raised the pole over my head which pulled taught the leash on my nose ring. My nose followed of course and I was forced to hold my head up. With my elbows secured as they were, this put me in a most salacious posture. My breasts were prominently thrust forward and my buttocks were well displayed since I had to arch my back in order to relieve the pressure on the elbow restraints.

“Oh yes. Very pretty.”

The Countess moved to the middle of the yard area and cracked the whip. I jumped, first from the sound and second from the sharp sudden burn on my right buttock. Abdul had only caned me and I found the bite of the whip to be a completely different sensation. Its message of pain came quicker to the brain but also subsided quicker. But then again, I believe the Countess was playing with me. I’m sure the whip could be used more effectively on belligerent ponies.

With the crack, the Countess pulled forward on the pole and I stepped forward following it.

“That’s a good girl. We’re going to circle the yard a few times. I want to see your gait and how you use your muscles.”

Another crack. She was masterful with the wicked length of thin leather. Her arm barely moved but the whip snapped most effectively.

“Yes. A little faster. Let’s get you into a good lather. I want to see those tits bounce. Most ponies girls have small breasts. It’s just natural. So it’s fun watching yours bob.”

She directed me to jog in a large circle. She had to move a little, but only a step or two from the center.

“Now, let’s see you jump. Go over the chair.”

Crack!

“Yes. You take to it naturally. Lead with your right foot and follow with the left by drawing it up behind you.”

Crack!

She was outstandingly precise with the whip. Each crack just grazed my flesh providing a quick sting which would slowly turn to a somewhat glowing warmth. She never struck the same area twice. And the pain was just enough to hold my attention and encourage me to listen attentively to her commands, which I did.

“Very good. Little One. I wish you could see yourself. Your artwork accentuates your white breasts and buttocks making a very naughty scene... and a perfect target.”

Crack!

With her last comment the whip stung my right breast. She didn’t hit the nipple but I realized that she could if she wanted to. This thought clung to me and I redoubled my efforts at the end of the tether.

“Excellent. You’re beginning to perspire. The sun reflects nicely off your colors.”

Round and round we went, jumping over the chairs as directed. The bell attached to my clitoral ring had been removed for morning exercise on the stair machine. But the other bells remained attached to the rings on my arms, rib cage and legs. As I followed the Countess’s commands I realized that the bells began to ring in a pattern. As each of my steps touched the sandy soil the little chimes softly rung out and when I jumped over the chairs a vibrant chord was heard. The Countess worked me energetically to eliminate any motion that would cause the bells to ring in between steps. It was time consuming and I concentrated on keeping my arms and midsection free of unnecessary movement so that the bells rang in unison with the motion of my feet.

“You’d like it at my farm, Little One. I have anywhere from 10 to 20 ponies under training. Mostly young girls, some boys and an occasional gelding. Thorough training only takes a few months if the pony arrives submissive. If they have to be broken in from start it can take a year.”

Crack!

The Countess proceeded to tell me all about her farm as we continued the odd dance of trainer and pony. It was a fascinating story. And I realized it was part of the training. To be able to subconsciously react to the direction of the whip and tether while listening to her speak was a test of my concentration.

“Some ponies I purchase for my own account, train then sell. Others are sent by owners and are trained for a fee. There’s no feeling of control like taking an unbroken filly out for her first session. They’re frightened and eager to please but of course most are clumsy. Yet I will occasionally get a girl with some ballet training. That’s when perfection can be achieved very quickly. They understand the importance of posture, timing, and the use of strength with the appearance of elegance. The best female ponies aren’t built like you. They’re tall with modest breasts. Any weight above the waist, whether it be fat or muscle, is superfluous. Therefore I prefer to begin with a slim girl and build her calves, thighs and buttocks. And she must be high slitted. An owner likes to see a cute pouch as the pony bends over in the harness. Two pink lips peeking back at the top of the thighs is the preferred presentation.”

Crack!

“The toughest thing is training a team, particularly if they will be harnessed side by side. Most owners are perfectionists and insist that a team work in perfect unison. Each step exactly in time. It sounds easy, but when a team starts up, the first step must be simultaneous and then as they accelerate or slow down the feet must stay together.”

Crack!

“A team must think alike, be able to read each others mind. Most good teams are comprised of lesbians or bisexuals. If they aren’t when I start they usually are when I finish.”

Crack! The Countess was laughing.

“I start by binding a team together for a few days. I have special harnesses which secure the head of each girl to the waist of the other. Yes their faces are secured right into the crouch of the other. They eat and sleep lying on the stable floor. They’re free to lick, bite scratch, whatever they want to do to each other. It’s interesting to watch them roll on the floor and try to achieve dominance by being on top. Food is eaten from the privates of the other. And when it comes to relieving themselves the fun really gets going. But it achieves a purpose. Over the days they get to know each other and develop mutual respect, perhaps even adoration. The only way one gets her pussy serviced is if she services the other. When one has to urinate she must coordinate with the other to avoid wetting her face. In a few days they may not like each other but they learn to work together. After all, when harnessed to a cart, if one makes a mistake their owner is going to whip them both.”

Crack! This time to my breast. Her dexterity amazed me. The slightest error could cause the whip to tear out one of my many gold rings. Yet, she didn’t come close to them.

“After a few days they are ready for dressage, just as we’re doing now. They’re tethered together and every motion must be in tandem. The progress is gratifying to watch. Slim young girls learning to walk, prance, jump in step with each other. And of course there is heavy exercise. Rex takes all the ponies for a long morning run. Later we have special exercise classes conducted by therapists, highly paid I might add, to help sculpt the necessary muscles. You’re going to find that pulling a cart requires strength in areas not normally used. Particularly when bent at the waist and encouraged to pull with widely spread thighs and knees.”

She stopped pulling the pole with her left hand and I stopped to avoid stress on the nose ring.

“Let’s go the other way, Little One.”

The Countess changed hands. Pole in right, whip in left and I pranced clockwise. Amazingly, she could deliver the same sharp precise cracks left handed.

“It takes months to train a team in every detail. Some very demanding owners will insist that every function be performed in unison, right down to bodily functions. Yes, a good team will learn to toilet together so they don’t have to be untethered.”

Crack!

“Keep the knees up, Little One. That’s it.

“I don’t like a pony with a lot of paraphernalia. A simple leather neck collar is all I like to see. Fancy pony gear it becomes too distracting. At time of sale my ponies are exhibited naked, pubes shaven and hair cut short. They don’t need to be restrained. My training cures them of any bad habits and Rex can immediately determine if anyone has been playing with themselves. No. The pony stands on a small pedestal for viewing and follows any commands to display special areas of interest. Neat and simple. No jewelry, cuffs, straps, ropes, chains. If a potential owner saw that restraints were necessary he or she wouldn’t buy. Teams are tethered at the neck, of course. Teams are always tethered together. That’s the rule.”

Crack!

“You have good wind. Lantita has done a good job with you.

“My farm isn’t all discipline and training. Teams can frolic on occasion. After a good session I’ll secure them face to face and let them go at it. It also gives me some recreation, watching two nubile young pony girls rub themselves into a frenzy. It can become a very athletic performance with ponies who are near the end of training. Well muscled thighs and buttocks grinding away, tight little erect nipples. And all the pony girls have large outer lips. It’s a feature I insist on in all my ponies, kind of a trademark. Watching the lips hang and swing with each step is an important part of the viewing pleasure of riding in the cart. So when these girls go at it in a lesbian embrace it can be quite a sight.”

Crack!

The Countess’s lewd descriptions and sensual use of the whip was having its effect. I could feel my wetness and I’m sure she noticed.

“Stop! I think you’re ready.”