The Pony Couples Race Part 1

CHAPTER 1: PONYBOY

*

The stream at the bottom of the path leading up to the moor was chill but Bryony and I were both hot, sweating hard in our harnesses as we plunged onto the fast flowing water making it splash over our naked skin. It was spring and the rain on the moor had raised the water level so it came up to our knees making it hard to wade through and the hooves of my pony boots sunk into the soft mud of the streambed as we crossed it pulling the chariot to which we were harnessed.

At least the thigh high pony boots kept my feet dry.

As we started on the hill ahead, dragging the chariot free of the water, I felt Bryony pull slightly ahead and knew what was coming; a moment later I felt the sting of the whip on my buttocks and redoubled my effort. It wasn't enough, the whip came again...and kept coming.

'I warned you PonyBoy!' Rubber Dolly shouted as she struck me again. 'Slack at the bottom and you get whipped all the way to the top.'

I grunted into my bridle and willed my tired legs to a faster pace. It was our fourth run of the morning.

*

It takes nearly ten minutes to climb from the stream to the moor and Rubber Dolly whipped me all the way so that by the time we reached the top of the hill my buttocks were burning almost as much as my chest and the muscles in my legs but it wan't quite over; there was still the obligatory final sprint; at least she divided the whip equally between us for that part forcing us to full gallop despite our exhaustion and then reining us in just before the end of the path.

Bryony and I stood gasping, sweat dripping from us, lungs burning as we sucked air in around our bits.

'Not bad.' Rubber Dolly said as she climbed down from the chariot and walked round to stand in front of us, patting my smarting bottom gently as she passed.

As usual our Mistress was dressed in tight rubber, this morning a figure hugging white rubber blouse that seemed moulded to her skin, clinging beautifully to her lovely firm breasts and outlining every detail of her stiffly erect nipples with their dressage piercings; her black rubber 'jodhpurs' also seemed moulded to her bottom and thighs like a second skin before disappearing into the shiny black riding boots that Bryony and I had spent the previous evening polishing.

She stood facing us and I watched her stretch, lifting the whip above her head, in a move that was clearly designed to display her lovely rubber clad body to her adoring slaves. Then she turned away and bent forward stretching down to her toes, legs spread, showing off the beautiful shiny curve of her bottom and displaying her rubber covered sex in anatomical detail along with her clitoral and multiple labial piercings.

My cock twitched in it's tight restraints.

Beyond Mistress, the moor stretched out to the sea, a rippled grey with sunlight shining on wave crests and bursts of white where waves broke in the wind. The sky above was grey, with white clouds whipped along in the wind.

'Beautiful view.' Mistress said straightening up and turning to face us.

*

She was beautiful, our mistress, the erstwhile dressage mare, Rubber Dolly or 'Miss Carter' as Bryony had once called her when she'd been the village schoolteacher. She had dark thick hair to her shoulders, pale skin, a straight broad nose and full lips always on the edge of a smile; but it was her eyes that held my attention; storm grey like the sky.

Well, her eyes and her rubber clad body.

Bryony and I stood before her, harnessed side by side to the double chariot; both bridled and shod in pony boots; otherwise naked save the heavy training harnesses strapped tightly to our bodies and polo pony sheaths that restrained our arms folded behind our backs, mitted hands fastened to opposite shoulders; a legacy of our visit to Argentina. And, of course, we wore our collars too; the slim metal bands locked around our necks, signs of our subjugation, our slavery to the goddess who was our rubber mistress.

We were hardly a matching pair, of course; Bryony (or 'Sticky Fingers' to use her pony name) a little over five feet even in her pony boots, pert and red headed; me (currently referred to as 'Ponyboy') nearly six feet tall, muscular and dark haired; this was apart from the obvious difference: as far as I knew, it was the first time a male and female pair had been trained in Mares-de-Launce.

The clue's in the name; in Mares, ponies are called 'mares'. I should probably also clarify that those who sit in the 'chariots' holding the reins and wielding the whip to drive the mares are called 'knights'. (It's a long story involving a knight of the round table and a village maiden and allegedly, the village name means 'Mares of the Lance').

There were, for the pony play aficionados reading this, important differences in our harnesses: they were both training harnesses with padded shoulder straps but where the broad leather straps ran down from our shoulders to our 'girdles', Bryony's had rings for her breasts; hers didn't have a crotch strap either; below, the thick leather girdle was stabilised with thigh straps that I thought looked rather like suspenders and stocking tops; mine didn't have breast rings although there were rings at the level of my nipples, joined by a horizontal strap around my chest; below my 'girdle' I did have a crotch strap and a ring for my cock and balls which were pulled through it and strapped tightly, vertically to the thick leather strap; openly displayed. Bryony ran with a bare sex (a common arrangement for racing mares to reduce chaffing) so, I suppose, it was only fair that my cock was on display too; below my tightly strapped shaft my balls were also strapped down too, equally visible (and vulnerable) in an arrangement I can only describe as 'spatchcocked'.

We were both wearing tails; like every good pony's, mounted on butt plugs; Bryony's was made from her own hair, relatively new; a size fourteen now to allow for the way her sphincter had been stretched by rather more frequent use recently; mine was on loan from our mistress and, mercifully only a size ten even if, the first few times I had worn it, it had felt like a beer bottle being shoved inside me.

We were, naturally, bridled too; there was no real difference in these; a complex mass of leather straps tightened to hold our blinkers in place and keep the rubber coated bits firmly between our teeth. Mercifully, for the time at least, we were being run with bit reins despite the complex collection of ironmongery piercing my fellow pony's nipples.

*

Toying with the coils of her whip our enigmatic mistress came towards us.

'Sticky!' She looked at Bryony addressing her by her pony name. 'You really are getting back into shape'

Turning my head slightly, I saw my fellow pony and new wife nod slightly but, like me she had a bit between her teeth and had not been given permission to speak.

Mistress reached out and hooked a gloved finger into one Sticky's multiple nipple rings, drawing her forwards.

Their lips met in a full on kiss that was, from my point of view unnecessarily long and passionate and would, if my lovely wife had not been bridled probably have been deep and involved tongues. I tried not to stare but the site of my rubber mistress kissing my tightly restrained wife was impossible to ignore.

My cock strained against in its restraints. I seemed to have a constant erection these days which, considering I was being kept as a slave and pony alongside my beautiful wife by a dominatrix who had a thing for rubber and pony play was, perhaps, not entirely surprising.

'Such a good girl.' Mistress murmured as their lips parted.

She turned her attention to me.

'Eyes front, PonyBoy.' She said taking my reins and drawing my head straight. 'Unless you want me to use the blinders.'

She held my reins close to my bit to better control me, holding my head and stepping across to stand in front of me, staring into my eyes.

God, those grey eyes really were beautiful.

Her hand cupped my balls and squeezed gently. My balls spasmed slightly.

'You're not doing too badly either.'

I swallowed and nodded slightly.

'Given a year or two, I think I could whip you into shape.' She squeezed my balls again and I saw a familiar smile creep onto her face. 'Are you ready to be a proper pony yet?'

Her lips were very close to mine; I could feel the warmth of her breath on my face; her other hand was still gently squeezing my balls. One kiss and I knew she would make me agree to anything.

I looked down as she bent to touch her lips to my nipples, kissing each of them gently, the tip of her tongue flicking out to tease them.

Mistress raised the suggestion of having me pierced on a daily basis now. I knew Bryony was keen too, reminding me of the 'delightful' stimulation of being driven by nipple reins. I wasn't sure it worked quite the same way for men and, as I didn't know any other ponyboys, I had nobody to ask.

'I have your bells in the chariot.' Mistress said, straightening up.

I groaned inwardly.

To encourage me to yield, she had started to clamp bells to my nipples when we were training telling me that piercing rings would be a lot less painful once I got used to them. I remained unconvinced even if, after a day between the shafts with nipple bells, my nipples were usually raw.

'Perhaps we could do it this weekend.' She rubbed herself against my straining cock then she let go of my reins and walked back to the chariot.

I glanced round to see Bryony staring at me so I fixed my eyes on the horizon watching the sea as Mistress climbed aboard the chariot.

Mercifully, she didn't return with the clamps.

'One more run this morning.' She said casually, flicking the whip to catch the back of my thigh and pulling on the reins to turn us. 'Then you we can do circuits this afternoon.'

I groaned again.

'Let's gallop back shall we?'

The whip struck my buttocks and I broke into a run.

At least, after two months of training I was definitely getting fitter.

*

CHAPTER 2: STABLED FOR THE NIGHT

*

When we'd finished our afternoon circuits, Mistress led us in the stable, a sure sign that we were going to spend the night there.

Being stabled isn't as bad as you might imagine, especially when you have a pert little fellow pony to snuggle up to although Bryony does have a habit of rolling over in the night, no matter how tightly restrained she is and taking the blanket with her.

'So how are you feeling, PonyBoy?' My lovely wife asked as she knelt beside me and pressed her thigh and shoulder against mine.

Mistress had left us chained together by our collars, linked through a ring in the floor of the stable. The collars were the white enamel and matching from our wedding. I'd collared Bryony when I'd married her and then Mistress had collared me a part of her unusual wedding gift and they had remained locked securely in place since. After a day in polo sleeves, we were both restrained now in standard single sleeves, something I was becoming quite used to and even enjoying though I was aware that mine was considerably less tight than Bryony's. Despite this it was perfectly secure.

I have seen videos on the internet of girls escaping from single sleeves, usually by managing to dislodge one of the shoulder straps and wriggle an arm out. Our sleeves were the ones with straps crossing our shoulders and chests making that impossible; Mistress had also taken the trouble to padlock the straps and the zips of the sleeves themselves making escape impossible even if we weren't perfectly obedient little subs who wouldn't dream of slipping out of bondage and sneaking off to the pub for the evening.

Why would we even consider escape when our loving mistress appeared a few minutes later carrying bowls of food for us to crouch over in our bondage, eating like the happy little pets we were and then licking each other clean afterwards.

One or other of us was frequently asked to lick mistress 'clean' too but this evening, when Mistress appeared carrying our food she was wearing her tight white rubber dress and heels, a sure sign that she was abandoning her doting pets for the evening. Nevertheless, she stayed to watch us eat then kissed us both good night and took herself out for the night leaving the two of us chained together naked and, as always, very horny.

It's amazing how being kept naked and in almost constant bondage alongside a sexy redhead by a beautiful woman who likes to dress in rubber will keep you randy. As Mistress' footsteps faded, I looked at Bryony and saw that saucy expression which I knew meant a night of unbridled, if not unrestrained, lust. She looked utterly gorgeous kneeling there beside me tightly restrained and collared, her red hair unruly with a very cheeky grin on her face not to mention the remains of her meal spread liberally over her chin and cheeks. She has a pale freckled complexion which I know some men don't like and, much as I love her, she's not a well endowed lass even if, thanks to her multiple piercings she has very sensitive nipples but to me she is as close to perfection as I am ever likely to find and there is something intensely arousing about pressing myself against that supremely fit and usually tightly restrained body.

Seeing her like this was almost enough to make me glad that I had given up the role of master to join her in submission.

'I see Sir is still enjoying his wedding gift.' She said looking down at my rampant cock released from the restraints in which it was now kept during the day as we trained.

Despite relinquishing my role as her master, she still liked to call me 'Sir' though the irony in her voice was hard to miss.

*

It began as usual, licking each other clean which rapidly became kissing which inevitably lead to tongues.

'Do you think, Mistress will come back tonight.' Bryony said as she ate my face.

'I think we're ok.' I said. 'The worst that will happen if we get caught fucking is that we'll be punished.'

I felt her smile.

'You're becoming a very naughty sub.' She said with a smirk.

'Mistress's punishments are sometimes quite fun.' I told her bending to lick a bit of sauce from her right breast.

'But it was so unfair the way she punished me last time.' Bryony said pushing her chest forwards. 'It was clearly your fault we got caught and I was the one who got staked out in the yard for half the night while she took you inside for a gentle spanking.'

'It wasn't gentle.' I told her. 'You saw the marks and you were only there for hours.'

'It was bloody freezing.' She protested. 'You saw how wet I was when you and Mistress realised finally it was raining.'

To be fair to her it was April and I had distracted Mistress quite effectively for most of those three hours; Bryony had been a sad sight, lying on her back on the cobbles of the yard, arms and legs stretched wide, shivering violently.

'I warmed you up.' I reminded her.

'Just shut up and kiss my nipples.' She said. 'Sir!'

I moved down.

Bryony has interesting nipples or, more accurately, interesting adornments on her nipples. Like many (serious) racing mares in Mares, she has a set of Morrisey piercings, thick heavy rings set very firmly and vertically at the very edges of her areolae that take a nipple bridle. She has also recently acquired three more on each side as a result of our foray into pony girl polo; these consist of two large rings, one on each side of her nipple set into the areola, one of which supports the reins while the other is used to tension the breasts and sometimes for leading a girl; the third ring on each side is a small one in the nipple itself; it is designed to keep the nipple highly sensitive and, in harness, it linked to the outside ring the effect of which is to turn a jerk on the reins into a more gentle but equally clear tug on the nipple thereby increasing the control a player has over his or her pony. (There is, as you might imagine, a lot of turning in pony-girl polo and a girl has to respond immediately to her player's directions).

Although we've dabbled in polo, Bryony is essentially a racing mare and had only had the polo piercings a few months (a sort of souvenir from her time in the stable) and they were still very sensitive meaning she squealed with delight when I played with them and kissed them.

After a day in harness, she was salty and tasted of sweat. Like many redheads, she has a unique sharp scent that because I now associate it with sex never fails to excite me. I thus thoroughly enjoyed running my tongue over her squirming body.

When the giggling had finally subsided, Bryony lay back with her legs folded under her and her knees spread wide and I began to move down her body lapping at her navel (which drives her crazy) and then nibbling at the stubble that was growing back in her lovely pubic bush.

'Someone needs a shave.' I said.

'Yes, we do don't we.' She said squirming. She wasn't the only one with several days growth but she had always assured me that having bristles rubbed over her breasts and sex was quite enjoyable. 'I might also remind you that Sir also needs to man up and get his nipples done. I didn't go through the whole piercing thing so I could run through the streets with nothing but bells on my nipples.'

'It's always about my nipples.' I moaned as I began to lap at her pussy.

'You didn't complain when I was having mine done.' She told me. 'Perhaps you could have a cock ring to help keep that thing under control.'

The force of her argument was weakened by virtue of a sudden gasp as I raked my tongue over her pussy.

'Those sessions with Mistress are paying off.' She said in an unsteady voice arching her hips up.

'Worth getting staked out in the yard for?' I asked.

'Shut up and lick, PonyBoy.' She moaned again, starting to pant. 'Oh, good boy.'

I knelt toying with her labia for a few moments enjoying the pleasure I was giving her. I desperately wanted to ram my cock inside her or, in fact, inside anything but I managed to keep going.

'Oh, god!' She gasped. 'So you admit now it wasn't just a spanking she took you inside for?' Bryony is never one to give up on an argument.

'She may have extracted other punishments.'

'Like strapping you down and making you lick her out!' She said accusingly.

'She might have made me do that too.'

'You are a tart.' She said, stilling for a moment and biting her lip in that pre-cum way that says she's about to go over the edge. 'Oh, fuck!'

She let out a long low howl as I felt her pussy flood.

'Bastard.' She said gasping. 'That was your fault.'

'It wasn't you fantasising about your husband going down on our hot rubber mistress then?' I said wishing for a moment I had the option of putting her over my knee and giving her a good spanking for cumming so quickly but then we sometimes have to make choices in life.

'A little fantasising might have happened too.' She shook the hair from her eyes and lay panting gently her body warm and flushed and radiating the scent of sex.

*

I lay with my head on her thigh for some time, my lips gently caressing her clit in a way I know she likes, hearing her breathing settle as she drifted off to sleep. Hot and horny we might be, but a full day's pony training is tiring and we slept well every night despite the bondage in which we were being kept. It wasn't always as strict as the single sleeves, Mistress sometimes used cuffs and collars; we had a set each to match our collars; padded lockable cuffs that Mistress had had made to measure. We wore them mostly when Mistress took us unto the house, usually crawling on all fours with about a foot of chain between our wrists and our ankles. Sometimes, though, she used them to confine us more strictly looping the chains of the ankle and wrist cuffs though each other so one of both of us was in a loose but disabling hogtie and sometimes pulling the wrist chain up to the back of our collars so our elbows were forced out and the collars pressed against our throats. Sometimes our chains would be linked together forcing us to spend the night in a delicious tangle of limbs. I think I liked this arrangement most and really didn't mind if we were both 'heads up' or one of us was 'head down'; both made for an interesting time and there is something rather beautiful about sleeping with your head nestled between your wife's thighs. Occasionally one of us would be more securely restrained than the other; usually this happened when one of us had performed poorly in the day or broken one of Mistress' rules; although of course, the other could always try and make the punishment more bearable.