CHAPTER 27: REUNITED
*
The next morning saw Maria-Argenta bring Juanita to breakfast on a choke leash; there were tightly knotted leather thongs binding her body and breasts like a harness that had been over-tightened, dimpling her flesh; her wrists were bound to her upper arms and shoulders and her calves welded to the backs of her thighs so she walked on her elbows and knees. She was muzzled too, a swathe of leather across her jaw that had held a huge ring forcing her mouth into a gaping O; the muzzle was held tightly in place by more leather thongs, knotted and twisted tight, wound so they stretched in front of her eyes limiting her vision; others were tied to nasal hooks that distorted her nose painfully. There was a thong bound in her hair too that stretched to an anal hook, pulling her head back so severely that everyone could see her face with its deformed nose and the gaping O of her mouth that was enforced by the muzzle.
Between the web of leather that encased her body, her bruised, abraided flesh was visible where she had been, to all intents and purposes, tortured by her beautiful, terrifying mistress.
She walked to heel beside her mistress on a leash clipped to one of her nipple rings and, as she knelt beside the lovely Maria-Argenta I could see where the stablemistress' buttocks had been relentlessly paddled, the flesh blistered and red. There was something stuffed into her pussy, stretching it, her piercings laced almost but not quite closed over whatever torment violated her; or perhaps this was something for pleasure; it was hard to imagine that she loved her mistress purely for the pain the beautiful dominant inflicted.
The shiny leather goddess who had dominated the helpless Juanita when I'd seen them in the playroom now wore a cream business suit though she still wore boots with spiked heels; there were no spurs this morning.
Despite what had been done, the punished stablemistress knelt close to her mistress, rubbing up against the girl's booted legs at every opportunity.
*
After breakfast we accompanied Don Hernan to see his sister off, Marie-Argenta walking towards helicopter with her pet still leashed as if she was reluctant to give her up until the last possible moment until finally she crouched in front of her adoring pet, spread knees and stroked her head allowing the surprisingly submissive stablemistress to press her muzzle and probably her tongue intimately against her mistress' pussy. Maria-Argenta then stood and, after a slight shudder turned away handing her pet's leash to one of the servants; then, after scanning the assembled crowd of onlookers, climbed into the waiting helicopter.
*
Back in the stablyard, I found Bryony and PLT being lead to polo gigs by a pair of blue jacketed grooms. They were covered in whip marks all over, way more than one would expect from a day between the shafts and certainly way more than Goose had acquired.
It was the first time I'd seen Bryony since the night when I'd pulled the anal beads out of her squirming, spasming body.
I went over to her and hooked a finger in her nipple ring pulling her close, her lips barely inches from mine. I could tell she wanted to kiss me but was holding back.
She looked up at me, her body almost trembling and I wondered if she was exhausted by her previous day's exertion or, perhaps, her night with Don Hernan.
'Please. Master...' She whispered. 'Please.'
'You know we'll be punished for that.' PLT said.
'Good.' I said turning to look at the little blonde who dropped her eyes. 'A pony must know her place.'
I kissed Bryony full on the lips, feeling her body respond, her tongue pushing its way into my mouth her breasts pressed against my chest. She was lean and firm and unbelivable eager.
'I heard you'd become more dominant.' PLT said.
I turned to glare at her. 'You will remember to address me as 'Sir'.'
'Yes, Sir.' I could see a gleam of excitement in PLT's eyes.
Bryony's eyes shone with excitement too.
'Master...' She whispered.
'Can I assume you trained with the firsts yesterday?' I said stepping back and seeing a look of profound disappointment on Bryony's face.
'Yes, Master.' Bryony couldn't keep the smile off her face.
She stood there in front of me naked, arms restrained behind her, her little breasts thrust towards me and her legs apart; she was almost screaming 'fuck me'. I couldn't resist sliding my hand between her legs. Even her inner thighs were bruised.
'Have you been pussywhipped?'
'Yes, Master.' Bryony squirmed on my fingers.
'We both have.' PLT cut in with a degree of pride.
'It was PLTs fault.' Bryony told me not taking her eyes from mine. 'She said we could take anything they threw at us.'
'And you were pussywhipped for that?'
'No we were pussywhipped because she said the day wasn't tough enough.' Bryony told me.
'It was worth it though...' PLT giggled. 'The girls in the firsts were very sympathetic and...well, we were the only two girls in the stable without chastity belts on.'
Any blushes the Pretty blonde might show as a result of her lewd remark were covered up as the groom pulled a leather hood over her head.
'Are you going to tell me what you got up to?' I asked looking at Bryony.
'I might be your little slave girl...' Bryony shot back. 'But there are some things a master should not know.'
'It wasn't anymore than we do when Bryony stays over with me and Mistress.' PLT said from beneath her hood with an innocence that was obviously feigned.
'Pretty!' Bryony admonished looking sharply at her fellow pony.
'Oh, sorry, Mistress.'
'Mistress?' I asked intrigued. 'Tell Master more.'
My fiance was saved from further discourse and any explanation as at that moment the groom pulled a hood over her head and a moment later bridled her, settling the bit in her mouth.
'I don't suppose it's anymore than you get up to with Camilla.' PLT said.
Bryony turned sharply towards her. 'Preddy!' She said around her bridle.
'Well.' PLT continued unperturbed. 'I think it's very romantic all those moonlit canters.'
I could see a flush of red beginning on Bryony's chest and spreading up towards her neck, her face hidden by the hood was, no doubt, going the same way; a moment later, her skin was the same colour as her hair. It was a clear sign that the conversation needed to move on. Fortunately, at that moment PLT's groom fitted her bridle and the little blonde was silenced.
At that moment, Ximena and Valeria emerged from the stables, leather clad and gorgeous, both carrying their whips under their arms and tightening their leather gloves; the were talking animatedly and both clearly looking forward to a day training the English ponies. I watched them inspect the ponies, testing tensions in bridles and making disparaging remarks about the need to use bit reins and the lack of nipple bridles. Bryony's player slid a finger through her pony's nipple rings and pulled, saying something to her companion in Spanish that I fully understand but it had something to do with getting 'the red-headed slut' some 'proper nipple rings'.
Then they took up their positions in the gigs and flicking their whips trotted Bryony and PLT out of the stableyard.
Beside me, Jacintha was helping Reuben harness and bridle Rubber Dolly. I suspected the stablemistress might need a day to recover after her torture at the hands of Maria-Argenta but wondered if she might extract a form of revenge on the lovely mare when she returned.
Cream already had The-Cat in harness and like the other players was wearing her leathers, tight on her lovely young fit body. I watched her bend over to adjust a buckle on The-Cat's boot, enjoying the curves of her buttocks; her tan had deepened while she'd been back in the Hacienda and I could just see a thin strip of white at the bottom of her buttocks; then she straightened and turned, stretching casually; clearly knowing I was watching her.
I smiled and went to get Camilla.
***
We had a superb day's training and, in the afternoon I had a chance to drive Bryony for the first time since our arrival.
She'd certainly learnt a lot since her arrival at the Hacienda and, as I drove her along the training course I could feel how much more agile and responsive she'd become. When she gave up racing, she was going to make a fabulous dressage mare.
After the training course, we moved on to a game and I realised that, although she'd progressed a lot, she wasn't yet up to Camilla's standards. I could see, however, a difference in the way she responded to the reins attached to her bit and the way she did at home.
I was thinking about this as I, somewhat reluctantly handed her reins back to Ximena.
'You are going to have to pierce her properly, Senor.' The lovely leather clad player told me as she took the reins with practiced ease, automatically checking the tension in her harness.
'These are for a carthorse, not a pretty pony.' Ximena pushed a finger through Bryony's patent Morrissey rings.
I pulled gently on the other one recalling my first encounter with them eighteen months ago as Bryony and I fucked for the first time on her kitchen table.
The thought of making her a proper polo pony excited me but I wasn't sure if this was just a compulsion brought about by the holiday, a little like some people get tattoos or buy completely unsuitable clothes.
'Blease, Shir. Bryony said, suddenly. 'Biersh my nibbles.'
How could I refuse?
*
As we clattered back into the stables at the end of the afternoon, Don Hernan was in the yard standing beside a busty blonde pony harnessed to an unusual looking gig. The gig was clearly wooden and painted bright blue and had a sort of 'traditional' air about it; it also bore the logo of the stables on the wheel hubs. It took me a moment to recognise the pony harnessed to it was Barbie; of course, it wasn't her face that I recognised.
The blonde was wearing a rather unusual harness which comprised a lacquered blue leather corset and matching neck stock; both, as far as I could see, locked in place; the stock forced her chin up, a position that was further enforced by the tight blue thong braided into her blonde hair and tied off behind her. The corset was ludicrously tight and pulled her already slim waist to almost fantastical proportions, particularly when compared to her huge breasts which in this state seemed even more enormous than usual. Her hands, in mitts, were strapped to the sides of her corset in the classical polo pony style that we'd used when training in Mars-de-Launce but the position was made more strict by the presence of a wooden bar between her elbows and her back that forced her shoulders back. This bar was the base of an inverted triangle that was fastened to the gig's single shaft; a length of polished, lacquered wood that disappeared between the pony's legs.
