Riding the Pony

I walked into the donut shop, still buzzed from the most exhilarating sex session I had ever experienced.

I have read over the years about torture of women on devices called wooden horses, but never thought I would have the chance to ride one in my own bedroom.

My master spent an hour getting me turned on, teasing my nipples and clit, pinching and biting me, always stopping before I could cum. He very rarely lets me cum, and this time was no exception; the whole time he kept me just on the edge of orgasm. I wanted a release from the torment, but I knew it was not to be.

He left the room with me on the bed, returning a few minutes later with two kitchen chairs which he placed back to back. Then, as I watched, he taped the backs of the chairs together so that they formed a single rail.

“What are you doing? Leave that, please...come back and make me cum,” I begged.

He looked up at me and stopped what he was doing and walked over to me. I was hoping that he was going to fuck me or at least make me cum, but instead he said, “You are going for a ride, a ride that you will never forget.”

I looked into his eyes and knew better that to say another word, as sometimes his punishment for interrupting him is more than I can stand.

He took a piece of tape and placed it over my mouth, and wound more tape around my wrists, behind my back. He then returned to the chairs and removed the seat pads, then got me to stand next to the chairs. I noticed that the back of the chairs came to just above my pussy; the biggest surprise came just a moment later. He produced a thick leather belt; it had no buckle, just a loop so that the strap could pass freely through, forming a leather noose. He put the choke-hold over my head and pulled it tight, and I felt the belt grip the skin on my neck.

He got two books and placed them under the chairs. “Get on them,” he ordered. I looked at him, not sure what he wanted me to do, and my hesitation got me a towel slap across my ass that sent a stinging shock through my body. Then he pulled the noose and helped me to put my feet through the holes in the seats so I could stand on the books, with my legs straddling the chair backs.

I looked at him as a wicked smile spread across his face; reaching up, he attached the other end of the noose to the hook in the ceiling and pulled it tight, locking it off with some sort of adjuster so that it was holding my head up. The leather gripped the soft skin of my neck once again.

I stood there for a moment, just feeling the edge of the chair back between my legs. It seemed strange, an experience unlike any other I'd ever had, but I am always willing to try anything once. "Why should this be any different?" I thought to myself.

"Are you ready?” I looked at him apprehensively but nodded my head in agreement to whatever he was about to do to me. He then took one end of the tape that was covering my mouth and pulled it off in one decisive jerk. I was about to scream as the tape pulled at my skin, but my Master pushed his hand over my mouth until I had calmed down from the shock.

“Okay, this is what's going to happen: I am going to remove the books you are standing on, and then what happens next is up to you. You can either stand on tiptoes until you can't support your own weight, or you can let yourself ride the pony by letting all your weight rest on the back of the chairs immediately.

Obviously, whichever you choose, the rope around your neck will tighten as you lower yourself, but you might want to ease your suffering and get it over with all at once, or you might want to draw the experience out by resisting gravity to get the full enjoyment.”

I lifted my right leg as I felt a slap on my calf, then tentatively placed my weight on my toes. When the other leg got the same slap, I spread my body weight between both points. At this point I think I surprised my Master as I was standing on the very tips of my toes. As I had been trained at dance school some years before, this pain was something I was used to and I could stand there without too much of a problem.

“Very good,” he said after about 5 minutes, but I think in truth he was hoping to se me squirming by now.

I began to feel the strain in my leg muscles at about eight minutes. My stance became steadily shakier as each second ticked past and I could feel the belt around my neck tighten as my toes gave way to the strain. I tried to control my descent as my body sank onto ridge of the chairs, forcing my legs apart and putting the weight of my body on my sex.

A searing pain shot up through my pussy as all my weight was being suspended on the single inch of support afforded by the chair backs, and I instantly got onto my points again. “That’s better; you now know what it's like to ride the pony,” he said, smiling as beads of sweat started to form all over my naked body.

The strain on my legs was once again too much for me to tolerate, and I felt myself sinking, once again bruising another part of my delicate sex.

Each time I felt the strength in my legs disappear, I also felt my life’s breath slipping away as the leather noose tightened around my neck, restricting my air supply and forcing me onto my toes again. My Master watched with glee as I performed this perverted dance, knowing full well that with each fall of my body, another bruise would be formed for him to torment later.

I seemed to be rising and falling with increased speed, my toes unable to support my weight and my sex unable to withstand the pain. This, added to the feeling of strangulation, was a somewhat strange mix. The pain and asphyxiation soon combined to have my head spinning, and I must have lost consciousness. The next thing I knew, I was lying back on the bed, my Master pounding his prick into me, smacking my pussy hard and fast, his balls hitting the very spots just bruised. The mix of pain and pleasure was out of this world, and as my master shot his load into me, the throes of a blinding orgasm overtook my body.

As waves of pleasure began to sweep through me, lights flashed before my eyes. I was moaning deeply with lust; I wrapped my legs high around his back, pulling him into me harder and forcing his shaft into me deeper and harder, causing little shocks as our sexes collided. I knew he was taking his pleasure and this was not meant to pleasure me, but it did. He tried to free himself from my grip, but I was squeezing his prick, milking it for all the pleasure I could get from him.

Finally he pulled away; I tried to hug him, but his wrath was swift. His hand came crashing down onto my swollen sex, sending an excruciating wave of painful pleasure through my pubis and radiating outward. Then a second blow fell on my tender lips, this time harder than the first, then three more in quick succession sent my head reeling; this time it was a sensation of losing consciousness that made me realize that the leather strap that had been hooked to the ceiling was still around my neck. My master had tightened it to the extent that I could no longer breathe, and all my senses focused on staying alive.

I must have passed out with a mixture of pleasure and pain that truly needs to be experienced to know of its pleasure. When I awoke the sun had fallen in the sky, I hadn’t a clue what time it was. The only sensation I had was the warm pain of all the tiny bruises rubbing together sending tiny jolts of painful ecstasy through me like tiny orgasms each one building on the sensations of the lasts ones pleasure.

As I lay there I began to fantasize about riding the horse again and began to run my fingers over my bruised and swollen sex sending me into the orgasm of a lifetime.