Kind of a quirky thematic change here, but I think it works. Enjoy it you kinksters.
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Annabelle lightly tapped my right thigh with the horsewhip and I angled myself to the left, turning a corner. I was naked with my wrists locked to two wheelbarrow -- like bars. I wore a harness. This allowed me to pull with my chest and arms. When I didn't turn as much as she needed, she gave me a more stinging blow, and I turned more sharply.
The small chariot that I drew was a burden even on wheels, but Annabelle's whip was quite effective in persuading me to keep moving. I trotted quickly down the dirt road, hoping that I was headed in the right direction - on the path, away from the bushes. It was difficult to tell, being blindfolded. I clenched my jaw on the bit in my mouth every now and then anxiously.
Seeing that I was slowing a little, she gave me another sharp encouragement with the whip. I winced a little but sped up, fearing her. The dirt road was at least tolerable on my bare feet, though I had no way of knowing if I were to step on rocks or any other hazard. That privilege had been denied me.
With my wrists shackled as they were, she had full liberty to punish my backside, controlling me almost primly from her seat in the chariot. Months ago, when she had first raced me blindfolded, I had refused to walk forward out of fear that I would hit something. The training had been hard, mostly conditioning me to be more afraid of her than of not seeing where I was going. Now she was more subtle, sometimes resting the whip on a thigh or tapping my ass with it to give direction.
She pulled the reins connected to my bit, and I slowed to a halt. I heard her greet someone.
"Jess!"
I remained standing, holding up the chariot by the bars obediently as they seemed to greet each other. I was not entirely able to tell what was going on. The marks on my backside smarted, and my cock ring vibrated at a low frequency, enough to keep me passively aroused.
"Oh, he is a magnificent stallion Annabelle. I do so look forward to seeing him at the races." I felt hands caress me intimately, stroking my ass, my chest, my cock. I dug my feet awkwardly in frustration, gasping over the bit. She patted my ass comfortingly, as if I were an unruly horse.
"He is, yet I have been training him for months and he still freezes occasionally. It has taken more than a few intimate experiences with the whip to get him where he is. But I believe I am ready to race him tomorrow. You should have seen him go this morning when I cracked it next to his ear!"
They both laughed lightly, and I felt Annabelle climb back into her chariot. Shackled to the bars, I simply braced for the inevitable sting on my backside.
Snap.
I began trotting obediently. She tapped the whip on my ass, and I went faster. This was a long course, the race itself would be shorter. I was exhausted.
"You take care Jess, see you soon."
I felt myself beginning to run out of energy as I began trotting up the hill. She rested her whip on my ass almost comfortingly, letting the reins hang as I strained against the harness. I knew that however beleaguered I might feel now, I would feel that much worse tonight if I faltered.
We reached the peak, with me trying to maintain pace. Now for the tricky part, getting down. She had a braking system on the chariot, but she used it reluctantly.
She tapped my right thigh with the whip and I immediately turned to the left. She pulled my reins slightly to the right to correct me. I got nervous and slowed a little on the way down, and she gave me a stinging swat with the whip for my impertinence. I moaned into my gag and sped up the pace, unable to do anything else. I felt her use the brakes on the chariot lightly, but little enough to keep us going at a jogging speed.
I tried to remember where the bottom of this hill was, and focused on keeping my footing. I knew that if I slipped, there would be no forgiveness although the brakes on the chariot were likely enough to stop me from being permanently injured.
At the bottom of the hill she gave me a light swat on the left thigh, and I turned right. Then, giving a "giddyup!", she snapped the whip on my ass aggressively and I bounded towards the finish line in a vain attempt to escape it. I heaved and pulled as quickly as I could as she laid into me mercilessly. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! I sped up as fast as I could go and felt her pull the reins as we reached the finish line. I slowed, and then halted.
I heard a voice coming from my right. "About twenty three minutes ma'am. He is a quick one."
"And we stopped for about a minute to chat. Make that 22."
I felt Annabelle step off her chariot and move over to touch me comfortingly. I was tearing up a little from the harsh treatment at the end, but soon began to feel aroused as she touched my chest and cock, stroking me as I shook a little from the exertion and the stinging pain on my backside.
Slowly, she unbuckled my harness, and then took off my bridle. Lastly, she removed my blindfold so that I stood wearing only my collar. As soon as I was freed, I knelt down before her, aware that I should not stand in front of a free person without explicit instruction. The day was bright and sunny, and when she held up my chin the sun dazzled me from behind her. She had rubbed me with a tanning oil this morning, enjoying my intimate areas most.
"Very good, but you need to perform much better on the declines tomorrow. That was disappointing after we had put in so much work."
"I'm sorry, ma'am."
The racetrack, a patch of greenery not unlike a golf course yet with a defined dirt pathway on which to run slaves, was primarily for training. It must have made a pretty penny, catering to any and all uses including professionals who needed a slave brought up to spec as a racer and first -- timers or casual fun seekers who could rent a trained racer and chariot for a day.
A naked, blonde slavegirl roared past, in tears, driven on inexorably by a younger, curly haired South Asian man who beat her ass mercilessly. She had a toned, athletic build with smallish breasts and long, thick hair. She wore the same kind of harness and shackles I had but no blindfold. Blindfolds were typically the rule in professional races, where part of the competition was the intimate control of the slave by the owner. He gleefully striped her backside over and over as she struggled to climb hills and turn sharp corners at speed. Cursing, a trainer darted after them, muttering under his breath. "Sum' bitch is going to ruin our filly..."
We headed for the car, and I leaned down for Annabelle to clip my collar to the chain on the back seat, the same chain she had used when she had first brought me home from the mall. Being a weekend, she was dressed in a much more risqué fashion today, wearing a very tight black leather dress that revealed her pale shoulders and almost revealed her thighs. Her black hair was in the usual strict ponytail.
For my part, my head was now shaved, and my chest muscles were toned from physical exercise. I also wore the ever present criss crossing whip marks on my backside that had been a marker of my station since I had first become property.
We spoke little as she drove back to her estate, ever out of place in its southern austerity not ten miles from regular old suburbs. It was an affect for sure, not that I would ever openly question the motives of a woman who owned me and could easily cause me a great deal of pain. A woman who owned the race course, two other houses in Texas and apparently half the state of Georgia. Rushing past those suburbs made me think back to my own home, probably foreclosed on now. The dumb mistakes that had led me here...
We pulled up, and I Annabelle pulled me by the leash to her estate.
"See if dinner is ready. Oh, and one more thing."
She grabbed a cock cage from the side table near the door and locked it on my genitals. I noticed it was the same one she had bought at the store. Female drivers held a likely incorrect belief that male slaves ran faster and longer when they were sexually frustrated. Usually, they believed in keeping a stallion sexually deprived and in chastity for at least a few days before the races. Annabelle, who I think derived feelings of power and maybe security from making me orgasm nightly, apparently only intended to keep me in chastity the one night. Something of a relief.
I headed down to the kitchen, where the four labour slaves that Annabelle owned were toiling under the watchful eye of their handler. She was shirtless today, with work boots, ripped jeans and a kerchief on her neck. She barely glanced at me.
"Dinner will be ready in half an hour you fucking slut."
She had a habit of treating me particularly poorly, as if she were upset that she didn't have the chance to beat me like she did the four labour slaves. She had a certain odd care with them, when they behaved and didn't make mistakes, that she did not have for me. I thought maybe she used them sexually, which would be perfectly acceptable to Annabelle who thought so highly of her. The four labour slaves, for their part, were unchained sometimes when inside but were chained like animals when outside and locked in a shed when the handler was off work and they were not serving Annabelle directly, either at a party or some other function. I did not envy their difficult life under her watchful eye.
"The lady of the house says dinner is to be ready WHEN we return, mistress."
That comment visibly enraged her, but she continued about her work. I relishrd my little bit of power.
