Summer School & After School: The Ponygirl Omnibus Edition (6 page)

Capped
Twin Turrets

“Today’s ride is
designed to improve your seat and your contact with your nipples as sites for
extra stimulus,” said the Mistress Wright, looking quite serious over her half
framed spectacles. She peered at Dori who was again bound in the saddle over
Samson’s monstrous hulk. The dreams of the night before suddenly came back to
Dori as she sat rigidly upright in the saddle, only half listening to the Head.

“Most
authorities on sexual stimulus agree that there is a strong tie, (no pun
intended,)” she smirked, “between what goes on in your head and what your cunt
and your butt and nipples are telling you. For example, as I’m now
demonstrating, your nipples harden quite readily as they are gently massaged.
You see?” she asked pointedly, staring closely at the pinioned girl while her
long sharp nails pinched and tickled the twin turrets.

Dori’s bridled
head nodded vigorously as much as the tight double bridle allowed. The dream
was now quite vivid and she also had flash memories of the bound girl over her
bed. Four leather reins hung from her headgear and these and their metal
fittings rattled as she shook her bound head. She wore the first bridle, nylon
webbing that encircled her head around the crown from forehead to behind, under
the outer leather bridle. The nylon webbing was about an inch wide and held a
fat rubber bit pulled well back into her open jaws, forcing her fine white
teeth wide apart. The nylon had no give at all and when tightened as it was
now, it confined her head with strong pressure at the same place where a hat
might fit. The vertical webbing went from the hat band-like circle down each
cheek, under her chin, across the front of her chin and back around her throat.
Another piece of the nylon webbing went around her neck and secured the chin
band at the rear. From the vertical pieces, the rubber bit was held firmly in
place. The leather bridle encompassed the parts of her head and face that the
nylon bridle missed. It held enclosures around her ears, straddled her nose and
supported close blinders that allowed only a narrow forward view. In some
places it overlay the nylon bridle and in others, it held its own space on her
small and mostly obscured head. Her long hair, braided as the school required,
was threaded back through the maze of leather and nylon, a steel ring secured a
few inches from the end of the braid.

The leather
bridle also held the steel correction bit in her mouth. The bit itself was a
less than humane adaptation of the spoon-like bit used on young horses for
dressage training. In the double bridle arrangement, the huge metal spoon was
inverted in the mouth so that the tongue fit inside the concave depression of
the spoon. When the reins were pulled, the spoon pressed down, forcing the
tongue against the bottom of the mouth. This spoon had the additional
refinement of small metal spikes in the top and bottom of the spoon. These
functioned as an added incentive to the pony wearing the device. The spikes
normally rested in the air space between the roof and the bottom of the mouth
with the spoon poised midway in the open mouth. When reins were pulled, the
mouth closed and the spoon’s spikes went to the upper or lower mouth surface;
sometimes to both if the reins were pulled hard enough. The school discovered
that Dori, and a few other new students, had an interesting little piece of
jewelry that allowed even better use of the spoon bit. Keeping with fashion
trends, the girls allowed their tongues to be pierced and had small metal balls
mounted on either side of their tongue. This impaired their speech somewhat and
many students wore the balls only at night. However, the school found out and
adjusted the bits accordingly. Thus, Dori’s bit had a bolt that fastened the
spoon to the top of her tongue, using the piercing as the attachment point.
This forced the spoon into closer contact with the internal mouth surfaces and
brought the girl into far more intimate contact with the metal surfaces filling
her oral cavity. When all four reins were pulled together, the spoon pushed the
tongue down, the spikes made contact and the rubber bit pulled the cheeks back,
making a strong impression on the pony being trained. For added emphasis with
stubborn ponies, a pair of nose hooks was added. These diabolical devices
hooked into each nostril and when the reins were pulled, the hooks jerked the
end of the nose upward, stretching the nostrils. This combination of four
reins, two bridles and two bits, plus the nose hooks, usually worked on even
the most recalcitrant of animals. There were, of course, Mistress Wright had
point out, “other ways.”

Wright tweaked
and twirled the nipples until she produced the desired reaction from the
helplessly bound and bridled rider. She produced two shiny metal thimble-like
devices from her vest pocket. They jingled quietly. She showed one to Dori,
turning the open end towards the girl. Inside the hollow cap, Dori saw a circle
of tiny sharp metal teeth. They looked like the multiple circular sets of teeth
of the lamprey eel. On the outside of the dome were two small disks about the
size of collar buttons. Centered on the top was a small silver ring. This was
what caused the faint bell-like jingle. Fascinated by the ugly little
instruments, Dori wondered silently what the Mistress was going to do with
them. “These must be some of those ‘other ways,’” Dori thought.

“These are to
sustain what is now erect,” The Head Mistress murmured in the rider’s ear. She
placed the first thimble between her left index finger and thumb, pressing the
two small metal buttons on either side of the dome. The spring-loaded buttons,
when depressed, opened the semi-circles of sharp teeth inside. Dori had a
sudden flash of recognition, knowing with dread what was coming next. Wright
moved the thimble over Dori’s stiffened left nipple and lowered it to enclose
the entire pink flesh bud. Dori tried to pull away as she felt the dozens of
tiny sharp teeth enclose the end of her nipple. The Mistress then slowly
released her finger pressure from the buttons and Dori responded with a start
and a jump in the saddle as the springs released and the teeth sunk into the
tender pink flesh. Twisting and surging against her bounds, Dori slid once
again up and down on the mounted prongs in her ass and cunt as she tried to
free herself and get the biting little thimble off her swollen nip. Mistress
Wright then seized the right nipple and, despite the girl’s struggling,
proceeded to cap the second target as she had the first. The result was two
metal enclosures over the girl’s alert nipples. Her thrashing struggles soon
subsided as Dori realized that this was just another torment that she could do
nothing about. Her nipples screamed from the sharp-toothed metal clamp inside
the thimbles. The more she shook the more they hurt.

“All this
unnecessary struggling will get you nowhere, Dori,” said Mistress Wright.
“Perhaps some additional restraint is in order. I must, as usual, take care of
other business, but Margie here will see that these little fleshy towers of
yours are properly restrained while you enjoy your ride. See you later.”

Mistress Wright
left the cellar. Margie stepped forward and attached twin bungee cords from the
overhead to the little rings on each of the thimbles on Dori’s heaving chest.
With this small addition completed, the instructors again departed the cellar
and left Dori and Samson to their afternoon’s exercise.

With each jump
and twist, Samson threw his rider to the extent of her bound restrictions. Dori
flew about in the saddle, moving with starts and stops in all six possible
axes. Up, down, forward, backwards, left and right. Not to mention the diagonal
motion! Each move caused stimulating distress. Her nipples were pulled in all
directions, her head pitched back and forth, her body leapt out of the saddle
and the penetrators lodged between her legs slid in and out, building up
friction and sending waves of pleasure/pain throughout her racked body.

Unlike the
previous session on Samson, this time Dori felt that she was being taken well
beyond the limits of her endurance. The moves were more violent, the pace much
too fast and the duration of the pauses far too short. When Samson stopped to
rest, it was only for seconds instead of minutes. The alternate and combined
waves of discomfort and orgasmic elation began to all run together in Dori’s
jerking head. To her astonishment, when the horse stopped for a moment, she
found her hips continuing to jerk and spasm, riding the imbedded probes even
while the horse was still.

“Na-guun-naa,
ha-guann-na, na-ggag-GAAA, aaa, ahhhhh, ahhh,” Dori sung and moaned through the
bit and gag. With each thrust the horse flipped her forward or sideways with
greater intensity. Her involuntary oral response was punctuated with a louder
groan as she hit the end of the toss and was jerked back into the saddle, the
internal prongs jamming themselves deeper and bringing a painful “Gnaaa-AH”
from the girl’s open plugged and bitted mouth.

The bungee cords
on her nipple caps were an additional annoyance. As the horse moved and Dori’s
body followed, her D-cup breasts jumped and flopped about on her chest. There
was a minute delay as each body part responded to the horse’s moves. It was a
long sequence that flowed together and brought continuous stimulation to every
nerve in her pinioned body. Samson jerked up and back. Dori’s torso followed a
millisecond later. Her breasts delayed another split second and her stretched
and fettered nipples, enclosed in their little silver caps, delayed a second
longer. So Dori’s upper body was in full back swing at the very moment her
breasts were just beginning to start to follow. As she began to swing back
forward, her chest mounds were flying backwards, tugging the bungees tight and
pulling the tortured nipples back forwards. Dori was certain that her treasured
tits would eventually give up and simply tear away, but they remained attached
to her chest and only served to excite and pain her more.

Samson ran for
nearly twenty minutes, but to Dori, it seemed like twenty hours. She was, at
the end, in and out of consciousness. When the horse finally shut down, Dori
hung in the saddle, limp and pale, her small hips jerking forward and backward
still, her tight little buttocks jiggling and spasming as her internal muscles
unwantingly embraced the internal phalluses. Her eyes were closed, no sound
came from her throat and only the pounding of her heart and the jingling of the
nipple caps’ rings could be heard. Boswick watched this entire session from the
comfort of his office on the second floor of the barn. The video link was
excellent and the three large flat screens displayed Dori’s ride from different
angles. In his mind, Boswick debated telling his partner that he thought it was
time for Dori and him to have a private session.

Rodney
Gets into It

Nights when she
wasn’t confined to her bed, Dori was in her stall in one of the barns. Each
stall was about half the usual 10 X 10 enclosure used in horse barns, but most
of the décor was the same as in a fine equestrian stable. Another variation
however, was the neck stocks frame that was designed to hold the ponies firmly
in the desired position with their heads sticking out into the aisle so that
they could be watched and cared for. The design of this device had been
carefully thought out. It was intended to hold the pony either with its head in
the aisle or inside the stall behind a sliding door that could close off the
stall. Ponies that received punishment for misbehavior were often positioned
behind the locked sliding door. The stocks were a heavy stainless steel
framework that encircled the neck of the pony. The tightness could be adjusted
to allow some movement or to clamp the neck snugly. Because they had
essentially double yokes, they could be opened horizontally between the jaw and
shoulders to stretch the neck and hold it rigidly in place. This arrangement
was used when it was necessary to perform minor surgery, such as adding new
pierce points to nose, ears, lips or tongue. On the outside of the frame, the
part where the pony’s head hung, were multiple rings and fairleads. This
hardware permitted the grooms to attach ropes, wires, clamps and other
restraint gear to the pony’s head if such control was needed. At times, this
was also done for maintenance purposes. Other times, it was purely for
disciplinary reasons.

Dori was,
considering her background, a well-behaved pony and thus she did not receive as
much discipline as one might expect in such a school. However, she was not
totally without fault and early in her training, she made a mistake that
resulted in her discovering exactly what the equipment in the stall was capable
of. Locking her securely in the stocks with stocks extended, forcing her to
stretch her neck, they had added cruel nostril hooks, ear rings, a tongue bolt
and blinders. Dori found her head was immovable. Any movement was hurtful.
Standing perfectly still was the desirable position...the only position. She
wore hoof mitts on her hands and these were strapped to either side of the
stall, her hands about three feet apart. She could not move them closer and it
was not possible to move them outward because of the spreader bar between her
wrists and the limits of the stall walls. Her legs were in the usual locked up
position with her small feet bound tightly to her buttocks, calves to thighs.
The steel shod knee cap boots were chained to the rear corners of the stall,
far enough apart to leave her ass and the space in between her legs wide open
for display or whatever else the grooms had in mind as punishment for her
misdeed. Her large, pear-like breasts hung down, pointing steadfastly at the
straw covered floor of the stall. They were unfettered except for the terrible
clamp caps that had been emplaced when she was brought to the stall. These
little pain jewels squeezed her nipples without pity. When weights or other
implements were attached to the cap rings, they pulled and pinched the
sensitive nipple flesh in a terrible way. Dori had experienced the nipple caps
before in the barn when she rode Samson and she had great respect for these
tiny silver, bell-shaped torturers.

Waiting for
something to happen was almost as bad as having it happen. A groom gave her a
drink of something not too terribly bad tasting about ten minutes ago and Dori
wondered what was in the liquid and why they gave it to her. She was not
especially thirsty, but the small water bottle with the long straw was put to
her mouth and she knew better than to refuse it. Maybe it was some sort of
drug, she thought, minutely twisting her head a bit to the right and
immediately feeling the left ear rings pull. She snorted through distended
nostrils and moved her helmeted head a bit higher to relieve the nose hooks’
tension. Her pussy began to itch, no, sort of tingle annoyingly. She wiggled
her ass, clenched her inner cunt muscles and tried to get the itch to go away.
It didn’t. It got worse. Dori began to understand what the drink had been for.
She was slowing building a terrible urge to fuck.

As the minutes
passed, her driving desire became both physical and psychological. She
desperately wanted to fuck something, anything. She had to get something
between her widely spread legs and up into her dripping cunt and she needed it
more than anything she could ever imagine. If only the plugs had been in place,
those nasty dildos that they were always sticking up inside her cunt and ass
when she had no interest in them at all. Where were the vibrators and butt
plugs now? God, her ass and cunt were running with juice and there was nothing
she could do. She pulled at her fettered legs and tried to rub her spread
thighs together. They were much too wide apart. It might have been miles for
all she knew. Her cunt was dripping, spread wide-open and was nothing to fill
it. Her asshole itched and twitched, demanding something to fill that void as
well. Dori was now panting like a real racehorse. Her bolted tongue wiggled
outside her parted lips, twitching and licking the air. She groaned. She
pleaded. She drooled. Her flared and distorted nostrils dripped snot as she
pulled on the terrible nose hooks and tried to free herself from the multiple
bonds holding her fast in the stall.

“Aieeeghhhh.
Aieghhh. Arrghguurrr.r.r..r…” she screamed. Over and over.

Her cunt was a
liquid cave, an ocean of fluid dripping onto her legs and down to the stall
floor. Her round, firm ass rotated clockwise and then the other way, then
jerked up and down, humping an imaginary fucker that didn’t exist. When she
humped, her ass cheeks jiggled in unison, shaking up and down and from side to
side as though someone was shaking a huge bag of Jell-O.

Dori’s eyes were
squeezed shut, her face lasciviously distorted under the bridles.

“Elth ne. elth
nee. Thumb un elth neeee,” she pleaded into the dark stall.

“Can I be of
assistance?” a voice said.

Rodney, an
attractive young groom of 22 who had handled Dori a few times in the past,
unlocked the sliding door and stuck his head into the warm stall that reeked of
sweat and sex. He smiled, seeing Dori in the throes of such combined pain,
ecstasy and frustration. Slowly, savoring the moment, he slid the door open and
moved into the stall, behind the straining girl.

“Perhaps, Miss
Dori,” muttered the groom, who had played half back in college football and had
the stature to prove it, “we can give you something to hump. Would you like
that?”

“Yeth, yethh.
Bleeezzze,” Dori shouted through the bit and tongue bolt. “Bleeze, nannyting.
Bleezeth.”

“Okay,” said
Rodney “Try this…” He unfastened his belt, dropped his trousers around his
booted feet and, without any warning, rammed his swollen, erect rod completely
into Dori’s straining cunt. Startled, the girl froze for a moment, then,
moaning and shuttering, she met his thrusts and pounded away until Rodney
uttered a single grunt, shivered for several seconds and then withdrew his
weapon as quickly as he had inserted it.

“Mister Boswick
sends his regrets, Dori,” Rodney said with a smirk. “This was supposed to be
his gig, but he got delayed by an extended head job over in the dairy barn,” he
laughed.

“OOOrrr,
ooorrr,” Dori cried, now clearly desperate and totally unfulfilled. Rod pulled
up his pants and moved to a metal cabinet at the back of the stall. He unlocked
it with a key from the key chain on his belt and opened the door. Reaching
inside, the groom pulled out what appeared to be a three or four foot long
hydraulic arm with a threaded fitting on the end. He locked the arm
horizontally in place to a nozzle-like supporting fixture on the rear wall and
then adjusted the height to match that of the standing pony. It was a three
foot distance from the nozzle to where Dori stood shaking and shivering,
desperately in need. Rodney fitted a phallus-like rubber sleeve over the
threaded end, turning it several times until it was locked into the correct
position. Satisfied with the preparation, he mated a long black hose with the
device. Previously hung coiled on the rear wall of the stall, the hose was now
directly behind Dori and beyond her vision.

The inside of
Dori’s left thigh touched what felt like a hot poker and she attempted to pull
the leg away. Still she felt the heat. There was something hot between her
legs, moving slowly, horizontally towards her crotch. She could feel the heat,
but it felt more like steam.

Again it touched
her leg, this time at the top of the thigh, very close now to her own streaming
cunt.

“AH, AH, OH,
ohhhhh. Utt ith it?” she screamed through her gag.

“Another hot
little pecker for a hot little hole,” Rodney the groom said, adjusting
something behind Dori.

The hot tip hit
her cunt lips. It didn’t burn, but she was jolted by the warm touch. Was it
heat or electricity or both? She couldn’t tell. She wanted it up her cunt. She
wiggled her ass and moved her apex closer and they met suddenly in a rush. The
probe extending from the device on the rear wall was now slowly surging
hydraulically into Dori’s steaming hole, completely filling her with its warm
and electric presence. It was far enough in so that she could barely pull away
from it, but it continued to move forward and further into her. Rodney made a
few adjustments at a control panel in the steel box on the wall, then leaned
against the stall’s back wall to observe. Dori’s hips and lower torso, unbound
from neck to ankles, rotated and shook and she worked to further engage the
digging, dredging hot probe. Rodney was okay, she thought, but compared to
this, he was merely a warm up. This was what she knew she needed and wanted.
Her upper thighs ran with fluid, streaming out from her spasm-squirming hole.
She forgot for a moment about the ear rings and the nose hooks and jerked her
head around to the side. The instant pain in all four places brought her head
back to an immovable center pose. Dori gurgled, screamed and shouted to the
groom, demanding more and then screaming for it to stop. She was fucking the
probe and she had no idea what it was. Her body demanded more and more and more
and she jerked and humped for what seemed like hours. Riding Samson brought a
multitude of physical effects. The probe now reaming her from behind was a
single, hot battering ram, insistently vibrating and rattling her entire
insides.

The probe,
manipulated by a computer-controlled series of sensors, rummaged her cunt with
an unstoppable and absolute vengeance. Now it was Dori that threw herself about
in reckless abandon, not the mechanical horse. It was Dori that followed no set
plan or pattern, not Samson. The stall was filled with squeals and panting, the
sounds of pressurized air and hydraulic pumps. The groom, who had seen this kind
of performance before, stood at one side in the rear of the stall and
alternately flicked a short crop at Dori’s jiggling ass and rubbed his crotch
to the same erotic rhythm as the machine that was fucking Dori. The crop had a
small, thin leather loop at one end and this emitted a loud “whap” each time it
bit into the soft, gyrating cheeks that were busily jerking and swinging with
the massive fuck that the girl was undergoing. The groom increased the power
behind each blow until he was marking the cheeks deeply every time.

“Ugh, ugh, uh,
uh, uh, uh,” groaned Dori with each thrust and each slap of the crop. By now
the girl’s movements were completely off the scale. The jerking, humping,
thumping motion had been out of control for too long and eventually even Dori
had to stop. She slowed her body’s gyrations, shivered and shook, her ass
cheeks clenched and then she stopped. The probe, sensing the change in pace,
slowed, then stopped, but remained inside its new home, steam and fluid still
leaking from the flesh surrounding its metal and rubber structure; motionless.
The groom adjusted some controls, patted Dori on her red and swollen rump and
left the stall. As he passed the front of the stall, he stopped again and
kissed Dori on the tip of her stretched nose. “Too bad Boswick has his sights
set on you; Hon. We could make a nice horsey couple. I’ll leave this rig in for
the night. You may get another urge later. It will not come out, so enjoy it,
Honey. I gave Lucy one last week and there’s nothing, nothing in the world,
quite like it, is there?” Dori was too exhausted to respond.