Hot Pursuit (18 page)

Anne gasped as her body was engulfed by a delicious rush of joy.

Lucy placed a hand against her backside, squeezed the bare flesh and smiled approvingly. ‘For special occasions the pony-girls are selected from the ranks of the favourites,' she explained. Brushing a hand against Anne's breast, caressing the thin leather halter and exciting the flesh beneath, she added, ‘That's why so many of these harnesses are designed to be worn with piercings.'

With her smile stretched around the bit, Anne could only nod her understanding. She half-listened as Lucy went on, talking about the bells that favourites wore for their dressage regalia, but it was difficult to think past the delight of being secure in the harness. Breathing out forced her chest to swell and tightened the grip of the steel bars holding her nipples until she began to regulate each exhalation and revel in its punishing pleasure. She accepted the invitation of Lucy's hand and walked tentatively by her side, through an adjacent stable and into a garage of small carts and wagons.

They were loosely crammed into the shelter of the room, a collection of glossy coaches with huge, spindly wheels and glistening surreys. Parked in some semblance of order, the cumbersome four-seater vehicles sat at the back of the garage, the less bulky two-seaters filled a row along the middle and a series of single-seater buggies sat in front of the large doors.

But Anne hardly noticed the traps.

She was totally preoccupied with the delights of the harness.

Each step was a discovery in new excitement as the straps writhed deliriously against her cleft. Her clitoris was repeatedly nipped between the conflicting lengths of leather and Anne almost stumbled as the euphoria promised to be too much. She caught a sigh at the back of her throat and held herself rigid.

Lucy grinned at her, looking smugly pleased with Anne's responses. Glancing in the direction of the carts, she asked, ‘Should we get you fitted into a buggy?'

Anne felt dizzy when she finally understood what would be expected from her. She supposed the words ‘pony-girl' should have given something away, as should the harness, bridle and reins, but the details only became clear when Lucy made her invitation. Unable to resist, she nodded acceptance and was convulsed by another spasm of undiluted joy.

She had known Lucy would introduce her to another delight, and hadn't doubted it would be enjoyable, but she hadn't thought the experience would hold the potential for fulfilment that this one promised. The restriction of the restraints was maddeningly exciting. The straps all but covered her nipples and sex, but left every other part of her body shamelessly exposed. The prudish exhibitionism of the harness was simultaneously modest and obscene, and the idea that she would now be expected to pull
one of the elegant wagons was enough to make her clench the inner muscles of her thighs in anticipation.

She obeyed Lucy's instructions and stood between the shafts of a covered buggy. Like the majority of vehicles in the garage, it was decorated in a white and green livery and emblazoned with Welsh dragons on each side of the carriage. Anne had little time to admire the detail of the paintwork before Lucy had secured the harness then opened the garage door onto the courtyard. Taking hold of the reins, she climbed into the buggy's single seat and said, ‘Hurry along there, little pony-girl.'

Anne caught her breath, shocked by the idea that they were venturing outside the sanctuary of the buildings and suddenly fearful they would be seen. It didn't trouble her that there might be repercussions for taking the buggy, or using any of the restraints, but the idea of being seen in such a state of undress left her too weak to consider continuing. She started to turn, ready to tell Lucy that she believed they had reached the limits of what she was prepared to do in her quest for excitement.

A crisp click rang in her ears. At the same instant, she felt an unbearable welt burrow against the cheek of her right buttock. Shocked and frightened, she shrieked in protest then turned to glare at Lucy. As she had half-expected, Lucy now held the reins in her left hand, and wielded a whip in her right. Her grin was frustratingly wicked. ‘Hurry along, little pony-girl,' she cried, brandishing the whip again. ‘Let's start you off with a trot.'

Without waiting for Anne's response, she snapped the whip again and this time its tip smacked sharply against Anne's thigh. The pain was infuriating, too harsh to be enjoyed and too intense to be ignored. Unwilling to suffer any further kisses from its cruel
bite, Anne stumbled out of the garage and into the courtyard.

Lucy cheered approvingly as the buggy was pulled out into daylight.

Panicked with excitement, and no longer sure what she was doing, Anne could only respond blindly as the pleasure became too much. It didn't take a herculean effort. The wheels turned effortlessly and easily, and a seed of disappointment spoilt her pleasure when she realised it wasn't the gruelling torment she had anticipated.

Idly, she wondered if Lucy was being too lenient with her, and that maybe her own feelings had stopped her from making this latest experience as punishing as possible. She suspected that any other driver would have made this initiation into the world of pony-girls a much more arduous pleasure and she found herself wishing that someone else had taken her new friend's place at the reins. Before she could dwell on that thought before she could make the heat of her arousal smoulder more brightly with images of a cruel stranger wielding control Lucy snapped the whip between her shoulder blades.

Anne shrieked and hurried forwards.

At the back of her mind she still fretted that they would be noticed, or accused of theft or indecent something-or-other, but those fears didn't stop her from trotting through the courtyard in a senseless bid to escape the whip. The bit between her teeth stopped her from raising questions or objections and the weight of the reins and the harness only added to her perverse enjoyment of the experience.

‘That's it,' Lucy cried cheerfully. ‘Continue like that. Keep it at a steady trot.' To punctuate her instruction, she cracked the whip again and scored another hit against Anne's backside.

The courtyard was a cobbled square, surrounded by the stables they had already explored and fashioned with an arched gateway leading out to the rest of the hall's estate. Windows from the main building overlooked them and Anne feared that someone behind one of those blind panes of glass was bound to notice what she and Lucy were doing. The dread of discovery added an infuriatingly bitter taste to her excitement but it didn't make her contemplate stopping. Struggling under the weight of her freshly awoken arousal, she didn't think there would be any power on earth that could stop her until she had found satisfaction.

Lucy tugged on the reins, and then let them fall slack, calling instructions and guiding Anne around the circuit of the small, square courtyard. She occasionally snapped the whip, branding Anne's rear with repeated explosions of agony. The chuckle of obvious entertainment underscored her cries and deepened Anne's enjoyment.

‘Now canter,' Lucy exclaimed. ‘Take the speed up a notch.'

Obediently, Anne did as she was told.

Walking briskly around the courtyard was an unimagined exercise in euphoria. Anne had never dreamt pleasure could be obtained in such a perverse fashion and, as she pulled the covered buggy, she languished in the discovery of this new delight. Lucy wasn't too heavy-handed with the reins and she only tugged intermittently on the harness. The steel bars drew closer together at times, pinching her nipples in a vicious squeeze, and inspiring fresh surges of delight to hurtle through Anne's breasts.

Elated, she struggled to maintain the canter that Lucy had demanded.

It was simple enough to know when she was at the correct speed because the pleasure was enormous.
The bars around her breasts bit with perfect force neither too punishing nor too negligible and the leather straps at her sex snaked like an inquisitive caress. Her furious arousal quickly became a broiling fever and she guessed it would be easy enough to canter through an orgasm and continue until she fainted in the throes of a marvellous exhaustion. That wickedly exciting thought was making her dizzy when another spike barbed her backside.

‘Gallop,' Lucy called. ‘Now take it up to a gallop.'

Without hesitation, Anne increased her pace. The gallop was more difficult to manage, forcing the straps to rub tirelessly between her legs and shocking her with more pleasure than she believed she could enjoy. The bars against her breasts were constantly squeezing, bruising her nipples, but she struggled to do as Lucy had demanded and made herself keep up the brisk momentum. She managed two heady circuits of the courtyard before Lucy pulled on the reins and shouted for her to halt.

Anne stopped within three paces of hearing the instruction. Her heart was hammering and her legs felt weak with the prospect of a climax. At the back of her mind she knew it would only take a single caress against her clitoris and she would be crippled by the flood of her own orgasm.

‘Stand still a moment,' Lucy instructed. ‘I want to send another text message and I can't manage that if the buggy is rocking all over the place.'

Obediently, Anne remained motionless. She tried to catch her breath, wishing Lucy had pushed her just that little bit further, and wondering if her new friend would still allow her to exorcise the climax that needed to be wrung from between her legs. Her natural curiosity made her want to ask where the message was being sent, and what details it contained,
but she couldn't bring herself to forsake her arousal to contemplate such minutiae, or remove the bit from between her teeth to actually shape the words. Guessing those details were probably pieces of information that Lucy didn't want to share, Anne remained stationary and listened to the muted bleep of keys being pressed on the mobile phone.

‘Done,' Lucy said, climbing out of the buggy.

She made her way to Anne's side and removed the bit from her mouth. Smiling sadly, looking less like a perverse lover and more like the harbinger of bad news, she asked, ‘Do you remember our agreement?'

Anne frowned, not sure where the question had come from, or what it meant in this situation. ‘What agreement?'

‘When we first met,' Lucy prompted. ‘I promised you the sex you were looking for in return for a meal and a change of clothes. Do you remember now?'

Blushing, Anne nodded. That conversation had happened a lifetime ago, and her part had been spoken by a naive innocent whom she no longer believed existed. Memories of her own prudish fear of Lucy made Anne's crimson cheeks burn darker. ‘Yes,' she agreed. T remember. We went to the motel. Then you promised to take me on an adventure, didn't you?'

Lucy regard her solemnly. ‘Has this been an adventure?'

The weight of her tone said more than her simple question. Anne didn't consider herself intuitive but she could sense what was coming and she wished she didn't have to have this conversation. If the reins and the harness hadn't been holding her between the buggy's shafts she would have turned away or returned to the sanctuary of the stables. Cold with dread, losing her arousal in a blink, she fought to
contain a flood of treacherous tears. ‘What are you saying to me, Lucy? Are you telling me the adventure is over?'

The slash of the crop bit hard across her bare backside.

It was a humiliation Ginger hadn't expected and she cursed herself for not planning this far ahead. Once again she leant over the bonnet of Donald's Morris Isis, her exposed rear on public display and her spine held rigid as she prepared to suffer the traditional discipline of six stripes. This time, rather than being parked by the side of an unlit road where no one was going to see, she found herself being watched by the master of the Welsh baronial hall, as well as three of his favourites and all of their pets.

The front of the estate was as majestic as any of the other baronial halls with flourishes of daffodils speckling the greenery. A glorious open sky, cornflour blue and unbroken by clouds, presided over their modest gathering. A mild breeze ruffled the longer blades of grass and stroked chilly tendrils against her naked rear.

Ginger wasn't sure who else might be in attendance – her position over the bonnet didn't allow her to turn her head – but she fretted that there were some members of staff nearby who would also be able to witness her humiliation. The embarrassment was mortifying and Ginger didn't believe
she could remember suffering worse in all her years at Donald's side.

Another blow from the crop kissed her buttocks, slashing a deep red weal. It branded a barb of burning pain that made her knees want to buckle. She heard someone applaud, guessed it was the Welsh master, and shrank from the sound of his favourites giggling excitedly. It crossed her mind that there was nothing punitive in the laughter – if their roles had been reversed she would have been chuckling and the mirth would have been without malice – but that didn't make her feel any better about what she was enduring, or that it was being done in public.

‘You sent her on an errand,' Donald repeated.

He was making no attempt to disguise his anger and Ginger cringed at the idea of trying to explain where she had sent her pet and why. She didn't want to incur his full wrath but, unless inspiration or good fortune struck quickly, she knew there would be no option except to tell him that she had been trying to cover every base in her attempts to recapture Lucy. From there, she knew the conversation would degenerate to her lack of faith in his abilities and then, she feared, the punishment would really begin.

He sliced the crop hard and she grimaced.

Her dilemma was inescapable. If she told the truth, Donald would see it as an affront to his mastery and the punishment would be inhumane and unbearable. If she lied, he would know and make her suffering worse. With silent determination, she vowed that she would make Lucy pay for putting her in this position.