Cannes To Las Vegas Ch 02

This is intended as the last chapter in the series which started with "Taining Rose" and continued on Literotica with "A Particularly easy Pony to Please" and "Saddleworth to Cannes." charting Georgina's progress through Pony-Girl training to the final of the P-G world series at Dream Land Las Vegas.

An elderly three engined Boeing 727 airliner was waiting for us at McCarran airport as we arrived just after dark, a 727 with cigarette burns on the varied hues of its filthy second hand upholstery , blues, greens some even in orange and red check, but despite the fact it smelled like a bear pit all three engines seemed to work and it took off easily enough yet almost as soon as it levelled off it seemed to start descending again through the darkness and the pilot announced, "This is your Captain speaking, don't bother releasing your seat belts we shall be landing at Dream Land in less than five minutes."

I sat by Tom a row behind Mummy and Daddy, I wondered why Mummy wore denim jeans and when I saw the state of the aircraft I realised why.

"Where on earth is Dream Land?" I asked but no one replied.

We landed in darkness, except for the landing lights which reflected brightly off the dusty runway and almost as soon as the aircraft stopped rolling we were sent down the built in stairway under the tail to the ground which it turned out was white salt, not asphalt and oddly as we went towards the buses an officer in military uniform checked us off against a checklist and directed us to the right bus while another group of soldiers kept guard.

"Excuse me, where exactly are we?" I asked nervously.

"Groom Lake Nevada, Ma'am," The officer said proudly as if it should have meant something, "Pony Play capital of the USA."

"Thanks," I agreed, still none the wiser.

Tom and I were shown to military style bunks in barrack rooms intended for four men, and when we had unpacked we ate in a military style canteen, where we ate military size suppers served by military personnel in military mess tins and military mugs.

"Daddy what is this, its like a prison!" I demanded.

"Ah Pumpkin, most secure pace on earth outside Russia and Fort Knox, where they developed the U2 and SR 71." he said.

"U2?" I queried in a blonde moment, "Aren't they a rock band."

"And the B2, and F111," Tom added.

"You mean F117 Stealth fighter." Daddy corrected him, "You can sleep safe in your beds here."

He wasn't kidding, you certainly couldn't do anything else in them! Tom and I had to use the floor,and the wall beside the locker, and actually the height of the bed wasn't too bad so we practised anal over the bottom of the bed just in case. I hate anal, I really do especially with the cold metal tube of a military bed digging into my tummy as Tom pounded into me, but all the great artists suffer for their art as Daddy says although what the hell that had to do with bending over the end of a bed while someone poked one's bottom I really do not know.

Some idiot played Renville at six thirty a.m. over the Tannoy and then an American with a folksy hill billy accent announced , "OK will all Pony Play folks assemble in Hanger F23 at oh eight hundred hours local time."

"What the hell do we need an hour and a half to do?" I asked.

Queue for the bathroom and showers that's what.

F23 was something else, you could have put the Cannes complex into it five times, and as I all too soon found out we girls had to be signed in, tacked up and then kept in character for the rest of the event, which wasn't funny, wandering around next to naked with your arms bound behind you and with a bit gag so you can't talk, or at best a ring gag isn't funny.

At least we had a well appointed stall each, treadle operated drinks dispenser, cereal dispenser, and yes I suppose if I had been born a genuine horse I should have been delighted.

Still there was a TV with a foot operated scroll down feature for channel changing, and when Tom came he showed me the comforter, yes a Dildo on a tripod, and with a spring loaded lube pump, absolute state of the art luxury for the discerning lesbian, but it was the sheer size of everything there seemed to be one hundred stalls, two banks of fifty, and nearly as many competitors, fifty for the main event for which there were heats so I understood, although as I later found they didn't have the cross country element in the heats so they could be contained in warehouses, or an unfinished Shopping Mall for Northern California, but it seemed there was a personality assessment instead of the Cross Country like Pony-Show meets Miss-Universe which seemed incredibly bizarre.

I had been seeded a place as had a few other girls and at least five runners up had tagged along in case of no shows to ensure we had the fifty, while for the seniors I think around thirty seven "Girls" had been pried from retirement and surprisingly almost a third of them from Europe including Mummy

Nine o'clock was scrutineering, oh yes we had to be checked by a team of butch lesbians, mine was quite nice, "Just got to check you are a real girl not some Trans-gender freak," she said as she sat me in one of those chairs they use for pregnant ladies, clamped my ankles in the stirrups, spread my legs apart and peeled my labia open to look inside.

"Do you feel that?" she said as she took my clit between her index finger and thumb.

"Mmm, nice!" I replied which made her smile.

"You're English Rose eh?" she asked, "Winner at Cannes?"

"Yes," I agreed, "That's why I'm here."

"Well you got your work cut out, there ain't no sea crossing here." she said.

"Were you there?" I asked.

"No but we all saw the video," she admitted, "Gee ain't your mom something!" she asked, "You're straight I guess?" she said.

"Yes," I agreed.

"Shame," she said and she pinned a badge to my corset, "You'll do!" she said and she buckled the standard combined bit and ball gag in place and sent me on through to the holding pen where we were all squeezed up together while we waited for the Jumps to start.

The jumps were not funny, instead of fifteen inches they were about three feet high some very solid walls with rounded tops simply to slow some girls down and some very light poles.

I struggled round somehow, it was all very brutal compared to Europe, and the sheer size of the arena just swallowed the audience which as far as I could tell consisted of enlisted men and officers, although some highlights were shown on the huge LCD TV screens,mainly when somebody got it badly wrong and crashed to the floor.

I was shocked at the standard and amazed to come fourth, I didn't believe it, until Tom told me some of the competitors actually fell over.

We broke for lunch, oh my god there was a weeks worth of protein in each portion, and that's when I started noticing the logos on the girls tack, half of them seemed to be sponsored by Nevada whore houses and the rest by porno mags, I seemed to be the only one with the tack manufacturers logo, but it was the sheer mass of tacked up pony girls sitting down to lunch that was so overwhelming, just like a herd of exotic creatures with our breasts hanging out yet our arms released so we could eat burgers and fries where in Europe we would have been lucky to get Muesli in a bucket eaten without using our hands.

"How much you girls charge in England Girlie?" A buxom peroxide blonde asked me, as I sat picking at my half pound burger

"I'm at Uni." I explained.

"So am I girl, but it don't stop me charging a thousand dollars a night," she lied, I doubted she made thirty dollars a time, but then again she did have some very impressive breasts, silicon but impressive!

The format was very weird because although they didn't score it they still had the slot before Dressage for us to be interviewed like Miss Universe or something, and an Air Force General, Mark Ganassi did the interviews, with a microphone. I later realised the reason was so the Porn Studio reps who made up a sizeable part of the audience could get an idea of how well we could speak, as well as watching us get shafted in the Dressage.

We were kept back so we couldn't hear the other girls answers, I was invited up fourth my finishing position in the Jumps.

"English Rose winner at Cannes, say how does the good ole USA compare?" he asked and aimed the microphone at me as I stood with my gag hanging loose.

"Badly!" I said.

"Ohh Kay," he said somewhat taken aback by my honesty, "And what would winning this one million dollar porn film contract mean to you?"

"I would mean a lot to my Daddy because I am going to strangle him!" I announced loudly, "Daddy, you told me it was cash!"

"Hey, you're a frisky one," he said as I tried to walk off, "Jasper Raygun, star of "Ball Deep" and "Choked and Cummin," is all set to be your co star, don't you want his eleven inches of raw meat inside of you?" he asked."

"No!" I protested and he tried to force my gag back in before I could say any more, "I Wanna see the contract," I insisted.

"Sure, get her one Hank!" he requested and then "Hank" dragged me away off stage and sat me down in a chair and fished a copy of the rules from his back pocket.

"Here y'are," Hank announced as he handed me the copy, and he held it for me to read, there were the closely typed pages and a mass of photographs, it wasn't too bad merely the right to take up the role not a compulsion, three films at $ 334,000 each, no wonder the field was made up of whores and show girls, oh and the photographs were of Jasper's smiling face and a certain other part of his anatomy measured against a 12" ruler!

I barely had time to read the rules before Tom and I were called for Dressage, which meant me walking round in circles keeping my posture as near perfect as I could, with my thighs level as I high stepped, and of course the compulsory mount where I was supposed to look completely indifferent while Tom bent me over the mounting pole and took me from behind, luckily for me the thought of all those lusty Americans ogling my boobies and pussy as I performed had me all lovely and wet and slippery but then Tom just scooped that moisture on his hand and smeared it on his tool and ignoring everything we had agreed he forced himself up my bottom, oh my god, it was agony and it made it such hard work trying to look indifferent, it really took some mind control, I really hate Anal.

Every fibre of your being says "Scream" but you can't you have to remain impassive, Tom and I had practised diligently until we had nearly perfected our technique for taking my Vagina and as long as Tom got his angle of attack right and my clit started throbbing I just knew I would get a good score, but suddenly here he was throwing away the script, and going for the bottom for the chance of a few measly extra points, I just knew Daddy had something to do with it.

I settled down a bit so the rail rubbed my clit, and then it wasn't so bad indeed I think I lost a bit when Tom came and I orgasm-ed, through rubbing my Clint at just about the same time because I think a tear or two fell from my eyes which detracted from the impression of indifference the pony should display under US/ European rules, and we lost the bit we gained for Anal over Vaginal anyway, did I mention that I hate Anal? but oh my, my tear was nothing compared to "Oriental Star IV" faux pas.

"Star" was seeded through from Shanghai, and Japanese porn-star Hatsumi Tanganaki, better known for his ten inch penis than his acting ability was acting as her trainer for some reason and as almost as soon as he touched her she began writhing and thrashing and wailing as if she was being torn in half, as indeed she was.

You see under East Asia rules they prize overt orgasmic display when mounted, reverse of our ethos, which I suspect evolved from the need for serving girls in the Mansions of Edwardian England who needed to keep their emotions in check, the master didn't want the Chambermaid screaming the place down when he raped her did he? So they were trained quietly in the stables usually which probably was the origin of out sport.

Curiously Japan uses UK rules, very similar to US/ Europe which made it even stranger that Tanganaki should appear as trainer.

Essentially and I'm no expert, (And many would disagree saying I know the UK rules backwards) UK rules allow the trainer to have a front flap to the breeches to keep his member warm, while US/ Europe insist it remains visible throughout the Dressage to ensure the Trainer can be seen to be male, or indeed to be a female with a strap on, five minutes minimum penetration being required with a strap on against ejaculation or five minutes which ever is soonest for males.

After Tom and I performed we went and sat down and watched the action, he chose a seat where I could see both Arenas, I watched the Dressage, "Oriental Star IV" was hilarious, she knew what to do but she just lost it, she really did sound like half a dozen cats fighting with a touch of the timbre of a chain saw, but the funniest bit was the oldies.

As the Senior Tour was in it's infancy, created at the behest of porn studios looking for genuine uninhibited fit new talent, for their Cougar and Granny productions, anyone who had won a medal at any one of a dozen international shows and had retired before Jan 1st 2000 was eligible and quite a few had exchanged tying naked on their balconies in Palm Beach for parading next to naked at Groom Lake but oh my the shape of some of them, oh my! bellies as big as their boobies some of them!

Now Mummy is fit, for her age, and I was quite proud of her as Daddy put her through her paces especially as she had only come because of a grudge match between herself and Lucy Rosenbalm, and one or two others, and of course a seniors prize of $ 100 000 cash, plus sponsorship and marketing deals which Daddy had cobbled together, although seeing Daddy mount her on an LCD screen was an experience I could well have done without especially as he mounted her by using her Vagina and cost them a few percentage points but with such an energetic display that they were still showing it as a high-light two hours later, like a Terrier at a trouser leg, Tom called it, while Mummy smiles benignly as if she barely noticed, probably because her regular gigolo was hung like an elephants trunk and Daddy needed to be on top to have any effect on her.

As it turned out Mummy was second in the Seniors Dressage and fifth in Jumps but because of their bizarre scoring where a win is one point second is two etc Mummy was rather well up the standings.

Of course as my dressage had also finished with the compulsory mount, and must have been considered to have been a good one so they showed it as a highlight in graphic detail on huge plasma screens around the arena, it seemed every time I looked up I saw the the graphic image in glorious LCD Technicolor of Tom's penis enlarged to about twenty feet long being eased into the brown bud which expanded to become my dustbin size anus, no wonder it hurt!

And then of course they turned to the image of my face with my fixed smile as I hid the discomfort and pretended I was enjoying it with a mixture of indifference and pleasure, it must have been impressive, as there was a muffled thunder of applause. Yuck!

The thing was with the need to get everything done in a certain time the seniors performed Dressage while we did Jumps and vice versa but we could watch most of the action either live or in the LCD TV screens although it was planned that we would all do Cross Country together, and get scored together as the Seniors were expected to be 20th or worse in the cross country so there wouldn't be a problem with scoring although in theory a Senior could win overall, which set me plotting.......

We ran the CC without bits or gags but with arm clinchers in late afternoon, well ran, half the field were gasping for breath and barely trotting by two hundred yards and yet this was the three mile course, the course started at the hanger and went a quarter mile across the salt to the sand and saltbush of the foothills and then a mile up a barren rocky valley towards the mountain summit and a mile and a bit back down, and there were check points and they dobbed a splat of paint on our buttocks as we passed, Plan A was to come somewhere in the middle, some hopes, I'd have died of boredom or heat stroke, but the initial pace was abysmal Mummy could have done better.

I spotted her after the top check point, parallel with me across the valley, back in about 20th place, "Mummy run you lazy cow!" I shouted, and with a wicked flash of inspiration I went back to get her, back up against the flow of runners until I found her as she left the top check point, "Run!" I insisted, "Lucy Rosenbalm has taken an illegal short cut!" I lied.

"No!" she protested, and as I led the way she hurtled along like a rather portly Roe deer if not exactly a Gazelle, "Quick!" I shouted as she slithered on her steel horseshoe soled pony boots on the hard surface, overtaking a number of more cautious though fitter and younger girls through her simple inability to stop.

"I can't see her without my glasses," Mummy panted, "Not far now!" I exclaimed, "You're ahead on points you just need to be within two places," I said knowing Lucy was actually about a mile behind by now, and then suddenly there was the line, somehow I got Mummy across it before I got there and with a quick count up I was in third place with a $ 5 000 cash and a burger joint promotional deal and Mummy had beaten Lucy, and what I didn't know was Celine, who was behind me, was so confused when I turned round that she slipped off the track and had to be rescued and had limped in 18th.

I saw an aeroplane coming into land as we walked back to the hanger, it didn't really register as anything unusual just an Airbus A380, nor did the 747 that followed it, or even when I heard the planes leave later when I was changing, of course it should have registered, that was about a thousand seats worth of passengers landing, but of course they taxied to a distant hanger so I couldn't actually see the hundreds of spectator descending.

No results were announced until we were all home, much like Frenchmen who ran Cannes our American friends did some subtle "adjustments" and awarded, "penalties!" to ensure that there would inevitably be a tie break, there always was and I had already decided there was no way I was getting involved so as soon as mother and I had been scrutineered again by another butch Lesbian and our tack checked for conformity to the regulations and our arm clinchers released I found Tom took a cold shower and I changed into my street clothes, well actually into the same rather posh white sparkly dress that I wore at Cannes.

Mummy, as befits a total slut, changed her dusty tack for the brand new set in white leather which Daddy had wangled for her from Fosdyke and Earle and so she returned to the arena in full regalia except for the bridle and arm clincher, "Mummy!" I exclaimed "What on earth!"

She had these huge glittery star-bursts, one on each breast held in place with a gold (plated) clamp on each nipple, she really did look like a down market porn version of Super Woman.

"Don't you like them darling?" she said, "Gone all prudish again have we?"

"Yuck!" I thought, though at least it was mildly better than a piercing.

When we came back there was a part of the hanger laid out with tables for dinner and another part laid out as a ball room, and everyone sat down together, trainers, ponies, guests all together, an astonishing number of guests I decided, until I remembered the A380 and Jumbo that landed earlier, suddenly it started to make some sort of sense,

The dinner was very civilised for the land of fried chicken and the quarter pounder and as well as paper napkins and table cloths and real metal knives and forks, we had a proper meal of soup. fish, meat, and no there wasn't a vegetarian option, and dessert courses then cheese and biscuits and only then did Air Force General, Mark Ganassi leave the "Officials," top table and climb onto the stage which separated Dining and Ballroom areas stand to take the microphone to make a speech. A number of young men and women wearing military fatigues followed him up the steps and sat on a row of chairs on the stage behind him, I thought they looked more like porn-stars than soldiers.