'The Groom and the Trainee'

This will be a free story. So far two postings. I may add to it from time to time.

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The Groom & the Trainee

Copyright 2022

by Chris Bellows

“She’s well watered and ran okay for me... but rather uninspired. So don’t bring her off,” Lady Dyson handing a set of slim leather reins to her groom. “I want her eager and frisky to be run tomorrow. I think instead... why not infuse her. She can frottage herself to sleep. And I think our little trainee pony girl Sweet Cheeks will find interest.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

A gloved right hand goes to the bald head of pony girl trainee ‘Sweet Cheeks’, patting affectionately.

“She spent some time on the horse? I want those buttocks strong and protrudimg... especially since I’ve named her Sweet Cheeks.”

“Oh yes, Ma’am. She can now endure for nearly an hour.”

“Good. And I see she’s encased in nipple cones. Such nice titties she’s going to have for me,” the cylinders of tight rubber the girl’s only covering other than mittens.

“It will require time, Lady Dyson.”

“Yes, and persistence. But all skin stretches... don’t have to tell you that. And soon the labia,” Lady Dyson peering down to assess a hairless vulva.

The hand retracts, Lady Dyson stepping to the stable door, riding boots tapping the age-old floor planks.

“For me... a cool glass of wine, a hot bath and a warm, wet tongue. Goodnight Edgar.”

“Goodnight Ma’am.”

In departing, trainee Sweet Cheeks can divert her respectful eyes from the imposing owner and chatelaine of Dyson Farms to the sweat coated nakedness of pony girl Gum Drop. Despite her weeks of indenture, she always finds infatuation when a well worked pony girl is returned to the stables and placed under the attentive yet demanding care of Groom Edgar.

“Come, Gum Drop,” his voice low but firm, a controlling hand taking in the slack of the leather reins.

The well tethered pony girl follows as Edgar leads further into the stable structure. Sweet Cheeks notes the perspiration, listening to the small bells chime at the breasts and between the thighs.

The well muscled girl is hairless... head bald... and nude of course, other than standard restraints... high leather collar immobilizing the head, wrist cuffs holding the hands and arms useless, high to the back of the collar in the reverse prayer position,... and a thick leather waist belt making the girl and a riding cart one when properly secured.

With the reins leading to bit and bridle Gum Drop knows to obediently follow the guiding hand. Resistance and lack of attention is known to bring instant self induced pain to the mouth and tongue.

“Watch closely, Cheeks. Gum Drop is well versed and learning the protocols will save you some anguish when it’s your turn in harness... and to be groomed after a good run,” Edgar becoming pedantic once again.         

“First it’s to the suspension harness... and note Gum Drop only moves under direction. When I stop... she stops. When I move, she moves. We let you prance about as a trainee... a young filly... but when your time in harness comes... you’ll move only under supervision.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now Gum Drop has been acclimated... conditioned... to feel safe and secure only when in complete bondage. Even when she’s being run she is strictly tethered. And of course is now sensing my control at the end of the reins.”

As Edgar leads to a set of broad strips of canvas hanging from cables attached to the stable’s beams, Sweet Cheeks visually examines. The buttocks, well shaped but massive, are striped, Lady Dyson quick and generous with the riding crop. Protruding nipples, three inch long strips of firm crinkled pink turned to bright crimson, have no doubt also endured snaps of the crop.

The bells ring with each footfall, one each dangling from rings at the base of the nipples right and left. And a third, attached to a vaginal insertion, flops about at the pudendum, without doubt tantalizing pink and flushed strips of well exposed inner labial flesh.

Sweet Cheeks understands that in time her own beauty lips will be so presented.

She notes much moisture streaming down the inner thighs. Sweat? She knows it to be a mix of secretions.

Edgar leads between the hanging canvas. Gum Drop knows to step up onto a low bench and widely part her feet. The vaginal bell now hangs freely and with motion curtailed is silenced. Sweet Cheeks senses embarrassment for the girl as the scent of feminine arousal wafts in the stable air.

Gum Drop is stimulated! Painful cropping, bondage, humiliated in complete exposure of all a girl has to present... and her arousal is evident. 

Knowing of the pony girl’s deviant sexual excitement, Sweet Cheeks feels the frustration of the pony girl’s denial. Wrists well secured, there is no relief to be had for Gum Drop. Nimble fingers cannot bring herself to satiation. And with the thought Sweet Cheeks looks to her only covering. She is nude as well... but for thumb-less mittens... bag-like, gruff metal mesh locked in place and covering hands right and left.

‘Masturbation mittens’ groom Edgar has termed the curious garb. Such cruel chastity!

And indeed Sweet Cheeks has found it to be irritating and potentially painful to so much as rub her knee, her young skin notably sensitive.

How is it she will ever endure the riding crop?    

“Left thigh first,” Edgar interrupting her thoughts in continuing his lecture.

The words come as the reins are tied off and one strip of canvas, lined in foam, is slipped between powerful legs then pulled high, attaching the free end back to the cable above to form a loop encircling the upper thigh. The right leg is so encumbered and Edgar takes cuffs from the nearby wall, buckling in place about the ankles.     

“Steady girl,” Edgar firmly advises as knowing hands lift the left ankle from the bench and secure the cuff to a ceiling cable. Right ankle done as well, Gum Drop hangs in suspension, weight born by the thigh straps and ankle cuffs. Then Edgar works quickly to move to the pony girl’s front and hook slim ceiling cables to grommets set deeply into the cartilage of the ears. He next works to adjust the cables assuring that Gum Drop hangs comfortably... relatively comfortably... three feet from the floor in full suspension, knees bent, ankles and calves drawn up, belly to the floor, head held at waist level.

“You’ll soon have your ears done as well, Cheeks. Very simple bondage for the head,” commenting as the bridle is finally unbuckled and the bit slipped away.

“Comfortable?” the tone that of a father putting to bed a young child.

“Yes, Sir. Thank you. You’re so kind. Must you do... you know... the infusion?”

“You heard Lady Dyson. You need to better perform for her to be brought to full climax. And its only two little pin pricks... and then hours and hours of enjoyment for you.”

With the exchange, Edgar releases the cuffs and removes the high neck collar, his attention bringing a sigh of relief as the arms unfold and the cuffed wrists lower to more comfortably rest secured together at the small of the back. The thick waist belt is unbuckled. 

“Next come the bells, Cheeks. We’d not have her making a raucous as she tries to masturbate herself during the night. Pony girls can be so naughty,” humorously suggested in a tone of gentle admonishment.

Sweet Cheeks watches in amazement despite having before observed the removal. Fingers of the left hand pinch the lengthy left nipple and pull vigorously, stretching the three inches to a grotesque length. The action serves to thin the nub so that the fingers of the right hand can grasp the ring and with a gentle twisting motion draw the circle of steel and attached bell toward the tip. As such are slipped away the attached bell chimes and Gum Drop gasps with the quick agony, the tender flesh sore from vigorous cropping.

“One more,” Edgar advises with a smile, pinching and pulling the right nipple as well to bring more ringing and another gasp.

Sweet Cheeks glances to her own nipples, firmly encased in rubber, the constant suctioning for sure to bring similar bizarre presentation to her own breasts. As Edgar steps away to stow the rings and bells, Sweet Cheeks cannot help staring in wonderment. The glands of Gum Drop are not masculine in shape but less than feminine... mounds not rounded hillocks. It’s been explained that pendulous breasts do not well serve a pony girl, weight and floppiness there ungainly in being run exhaustively.

It seems at Dyson Farms only the presiding equestrienne is bestowed with normal feminine charms... Lady Dyson well endowed.   

Next Edgar steps to the rear. In positioning himself between wide spread thighs, Sweet Cheeks moves to stand behind. In alarm and again sensing embarrassment for Gum Drop the tethers of canvas hold the girl in a most humiliating pose. Buttocks parted, there is the puckered ring of her anus. Below the meaty outer labia yield and another bell hangs between long pink strips of the inner labia. Such humiliation... open for all to view.

Such ignominy, all a girl seeks to modestly veil on display... and such vulnerability.

Edgar notes the look of both concern and wonderment.

“Yes, well bound, spread open for examination... so helpless. Yet such enjoyment,” the fingers of the right hand going to the mass of moist pink flesh.

Edgar toys, fingers parting the labia and easily gliding inward to bring another sigh of joy. Then his hand retracts, held up for examination. The fingers are slick having gathered an abundance of juices. Sweet Cheeks knows such is not perspiration, the stable air becoming more redolent.

The left hand gestures ‘come hither’. Sweet Cheeks steps forth. She knows to lick clean the offered right hand.

“It is important... the subjugation. It leads to surrender... to obedience... and in time the need to please. Gum Drop is kept on the edge... so close to full orgasm... but yet so far. She runs and runs... bringing herself to the brink. Yet in constant denial. Climax must be earned.”

Edgar turns back to the abject display of a girl’s must precious anatomy, the fingers of the right pushing aside the abundant labial flesh and gently grasping the bell.

“Cough, Gum Drop. Be a good girl.”

Gum Drop complies, and with her response the hand pulls downward, slowly, steadily and firmly. A line of filament comes into view then an attached small steel ball, gleaming in wetness. 

“Cough again. Be a good girl for me.”

Another obedient response. Sweet Cheeks marvels at the groom’s knowledge of the female anatomy, coughing temporarily relaxing the pubo coccygeus muscles and the vagina. The small ball further lowers. More fine filament comes into view and finally a larger sphere of steel. Such completely exits the vagina with an embarrassing plop.

As Edgar pridefully holds up the configuration... large ball affixed at the cervix, small ball tantalizingly rummaging about to stimulate the vagina, bell tingling between the labia to announce the girl’s degradation... Sweet Cheeks is amazed. Her young and tight quim for sure not to accommodate such deviant trinkets. Yet Gum Drop has endured the distant unending pangs of pleasure with every footfall during a long afternoon run.

“Ben wa balls... with a clever adaptation. Lady Dyson enjoys the rhythmical cadence... the ringing bells, the sound of leather on wet skin. It can enthrall. Particularly in knowing that the sting of leather becomes welcomed... countering the pleasure of an unattainable orgasm.”

Edgar puts aside the modified Ben wa balls, stepping forward, hands reaching to the underdeveloped chest of Sweet Cheeks.

“You’ll be running for her... in time, Cheeks, performing for Lady Dyson,” fingers going to the rubber cones of nipples undergoing modification. 

Gentle tugs, bringing a girlish squeal, the groom’s touch knowing and sensuous. Sweet Cheeks is chagrined, knowing it is a squeal of joy... and that Edgar’s smile evidences his awareness. The girl is learning to find delight in a controlling touch.

“Your cunny will come. As Lady Dyson said... all skin stretches,” the hand lowering to graze at a hairless mons, bringing another squeal.

Edgar releases. Going to the wall, he returns with a bucket.

“Time to empty yourself, Gum Drop.”

This protocol always brings Sweet Cheeks to grimace. Positioning the bucket beneath, portal now cleared of impediments, Gum Drop may now urinate without hindrance. But at Dyson Farms a pony girl does that under close supervision... always under close supervision.

Edgar steps between the parted thighs, right hand going to the vaginal opening, index finger working within. Sweet Cheeks closes her eyes, too well aware of the intense humiliation, the debasement of having male fingers so penetrate.

She herself is being trained to so empty herself, vicariously feeling a knowing digit find the urethral sponge, pressing to bring both embarrassment and a sense of loss of control. The urethra is found, there comes the command to urinate, a stream begins, the bucket below pinging, and then the marauding finger more firmly presses to curtail the flow.

“Hold for me, Gum Drop,” Sweet Cheeks so often hearing the same command.

Yes, a most basic function is performed under close supervision, all dignity surrendered.

Sweet Cheeks is learning but still not fully conditioned. Gum Drop in turn dutifully withholds... waiting... waiting... until she is permitted to resume... the finger allowing full relief... only to again press... the deed requiring much time... the groom’s control fully demonstrated... any remaining self respect decimated.

A man... his finger... penetrating... bringing such debasement in exercising such dominion. 

“Good girl,” finally permitting full bladder relief.     

Bucket removed, Edgar unravels a spray hose, preparing a second bucket with soap.

“Would you like to wash her, Cheeks? We like to have the pony girls bond. Sometimes Lady Dyson strings the girls up... hands over head, wrists held high, face to face, titties to titties... and permits them to trib... vulva to vulva while being bathed. It’s quite amusing to watch.”

Sweet Cheeks is horrified. Yet she senses twinges between her legs in thinking about such a libidinous scene. The masturbation mittens... ensuring chastity, ensuring she has needs... ensuring such are never satiated.

In silence she holds up her hands, reminding of the locked covering of steel mesh rendering such  useless.

“I’ll get the key. You can bathe her while I prepare the saline. And Sweet Cheeks, do not touch her vulva. No cleansing there. Pony girls are kept ripe.”