The Stallion (16 page)

A wide and leering smile cracked the granite hardness of Nadine’s features. She bent her head and kissed Penny firmly on the lips with no pretence at affection or gentleness.

‘I will help you have him, pussy-cat,’ she said in a rushed and low whisper. ‘On my terms. In my way.’

‘Whatever you say, Nadine.’

There was a strange look of triumph in Nadine’s eyes, and despite the satiation of her sex, Penny knew there was more to come, that Nadine could not possibly leave her feeling so
satisfied.
Nadine had to use, had to feel that only
she
had taken pleasure and inflicted only pain. The look of triumph turned to a glitter. The hands released her head.

‘Then we will start as we mean to go on. We shall kiss on it,’ growled Nadine.

Without hesitation, Penny kissed her mouth.

‘I don’t think you quite understand, my dear,’ said Nadine. Strong hands landed on Penny’s shoulders. She was pushed to her knees. With that, Nadine pulled her trousers down to her knees and lifted up her blouse.

There was her mons, her clit, and her de-nuded lips, which were white, almost silver, due to the sparse re-growth trying its best to poke through.

Penny was mesmerised and wondered momentarily whether her pubic hair, when left to grow wild, was as white as the bullish crop on her head. Hairy or shorn, it was difficult to tear her eyes away, wanting instead to look up questioningly at the pale-grey eyes that eyed her with all the intent of a swaying cobra.

‘Kiss,’ ordered Nadine.

Penny’s eyes went back to the defoliated genitals. Then she dropped to her knees, smelt the musky aroma of recent sex and saw close up the glint of silver hair follicles.

As yet, Penny could neither fully recognise nor control the dark sensuality that had risen in her since coming here. All she did recognise was that the buzzing current started in some hollow between her legs and grew stronger when sexual contact was ordered rather than done purely at one’s own volition.

Hands caressing the smooth, silky whiteness of Nadine’s thighs, she lifted her head, pursed her willing lips and kissed the pale skin of the pure white mons.

Without being seen, a fresh sprouting of hair was already
rising
through the flesh, its touch like very soft sandpaper against her mouth and chin.

Penny would have studied the white flesh further, but just the aroma of Nadine’s sex, the tilting of her hips towards her lips, made her open her mouth and let her tongue loose to explore.

With her tongue and fingers, she prised the sticky lips apart and kissed Nadine’s protruding clit. It was a large one and grew towards her mouth like a fledgling penis.

It didn’t matter to Penny that Nadine was smiling in triumph as she writhed above her. How was Penny to know that she really had been set up for this, that Ariadne had primed Nadine with the details, and then offered her the wager. Ariadne had known Penny for a long time, since they were children, and she’d told Alistair and Nadine when they had explained to her exactly what they were looking for. Ariadne had personal knowledge of what Penny was capable of; what they had done together and also what each had seen the other do. All this information she had given to the Beaumonts. From what Nadine had seen and experienced so far, everything Ariadne had said had proved correct.

That in itself pleased Nadine. Still smiling and murmuring as she looked down at the tumbling dark hair that shone like a horse’s mane between her legs, her mind worked out the path that she would force this girl to take. But for now she would enjoy, praise and punish until the time was right.

‘Keep going, my pretty pussy,’ she murmured, her fingers tangling in the dark hair. She smiled to herself, then chose her moment. Swiftly, before Penny could protest or withdraw, Nadine clamped Penny’s head tightly against her sex, riding Penny’s lips, nose and face with increasing vigour until, stretching her labia against Penny’s clenched teeth, she let her orgasm break free.

Penny groaned against Nadine’s sex. She was peeved; even angry. She was still aroused and in bad need of her own orgasm. Nadine’s hands dragged her, protesting, to her feet.

‘What about me? Please, you can’t leave me like this,’ she cried between demanding kisses that left Nadine’s face smelling of the sex that still lingered on her lips.

She tried to force the tall woman’s hand between her legs, but Nadine resisted.

‘No.’ Nadine said it with a smile – a cruel smile that indicated her enjoyment of Penny’s obvious need.

‘You must, you have to! You can’t leave me like this!’

Penny herself felt lost, surprised at her own words and the terrible ferocity of the sexual need that made her labia ache and her clitoris tingle with expectation.

The hand that slapped Penny’s face and made her fall into the straw was unseen and unexpected. So was Nadine’s tying of her hands behind her back.

A new excitement weakened her limbs; her sex and behind tingled with anticipation. Her other cheek was slapped as Nadine, with very little effort, heaved her up and placed her so she was on her knees across the water trough. She gasped as her breasts dipped, then were completely submerged, in the cold water. Her head rested on the rim on the other side of the trough. Her hands and arms were tied very firmly behind her back.

‘I promised you more punishment, and you said you deserved it and would expect it this evening. But that is only part of it. Now for some rules,’ she heard Nadine say. ‘You will only have sex when I say so. If you have it elsewhere I won’t be pleased and you can expect to be punished. You will also provide it when I need it. Do you understand, pretty pussy?’

Penny had a need for more sex and another touch of burning on her behind. She just had to protest. ‘But what if I . . . ’

Just as she had hoped, there was a swishing of air before the fine tip of a leather crop landed on her behind, leaving her bare flesh tingling and clenching against the sweet sting of pain. The cane of this afternoon had been kind.
This
crop had an extra sting to it; it was thin at one end, the handle bent off to the side, and was about four inches long.

‘There are no buts. Do you understand what I require of you?’

But her bottom and the new sensations inside craved satisfaction. Almost as if those sensations had total control of her vocal cords, she protested again. ‘I don’t know that I want to . . . ’

The air swished again. Her bottom quivered, and she yelped and imagined the red welt that was already running across each cheek.

Nadine’s eyes were glittering, her mouth slightly open and her thick tongue running along her bottom lip, delighted with the way Penny was playing along and was willing to give a performance as Ariadne had told her she would be.

‘Are you sure about that?’ Nadine asked, her voice as cold and cruel as she could possibly make it.

‘Yes!’

The crop landed again, and sharp heat transferred from one buttock across to the other. Nadine’s aim had got both cheeks that time, and Penny’s sex felt as if it had turned to jelly. ‘Then I will beat you until you do agree. Is that clear?’

Trembling with anticipation, Penny answered. ‘It’s perfectly clear. I don’t care what you do. I don’t care at all.’

Nadine could hardly control her delight. Just as Ariadne had foretold, here was a girl who had hidden depths, depths that Penny herself didn’t know she had. She was everything that had been promised.

Wide mouth grinning, Nadine raised her arm once more
and
let the crop stripe again the quivering buttocks. Three times more and Penny was whimpering.

Raising an eyebrow, Nadine stepped nearer and let the coolness of her hand run over the redness of Penny’s behind. The hot flesh shivered.

‘Are your breasts cold?’ Nadine asked suddenly.

‘Yes, they are,’ Penny answered, her teeth lightly chattering, more in an effort to control her whimper than from the numbness of her erect nipples and goose-pimpled breasts which still swam in the water.

‘I’ll let you up from there if you agree to abide by my rules. Would you like me to do that?’

Penny lingered over her response. There was pleasure in this pain; in how it happened and how it developed.

Though her bottom burned and her breasts were cold, she didn’t want it to stop; she didn’t want to lose that feeling of pure envelopment of one sensation inside another.

‘I have my own rules,’ Penny retorted suddenly, aching for another few stings from the leather-bound crop that she knew had a silver-hooked handle.

Just as Penny had assumed, the crop resumed its course through the air and across her buttocks another six or seven times.

She cried out, wriggled against her bonds just as she was expected to. The ache between her thighs was so intense that the slightest touch would have brought her to climax. But Nadine would not do that yet. Time and patience were also part of her game. In her wide experience, she had found that anticipation inflates enjoyment both for the giver and the one who receives. The whipping ceased, and Penny could have cried.

‘I will leave you to think on it now,’ said Nadine with obvious pleasure, as well as authority. ‘But I won’t leave you without
some
further little reminder of me. After all, you do deserve your punishment and, at present, you are not respecting it or me as much as you should.’

Penny began to beg her to slide her hand between her legs, to rub herself until she jerked with release.

‘No. Not until I say so,’ Nadine replied. She began to hum merrily to herself as she slid rope around Penny’s ankles and fastened them firmly to the iron rings at each side of the trough. This meant her knees, and thus her legs, were now spread wider than they had been.

Penny could hear Nadine rustling around somewhere behind her, but knew nothing about the horse collar until it was around her neck. It was a small one with jingling silver buckles and was made for a pony rather than a horse. Nadine fastened it to the anvil that sat on the side of the water trough beneath Penny’s head. It was now impossible for her to move. The weight of the horse collar kept her head down and her breasts in the water. Her ankles were caught in the iron rings, her legs wide open, and her hands tied securely behind her back.

‘That’s cruel. How could you do this to me?’

Nadine’s face came beside her, her breath hot against her ear and her teeth lightly nibbling at Penny’s earlobe.

‘Very easily, as I am sure you are pleased to know, you rebellious little mare. But don’t worry,’ she said with a long smile, ‘I will leave you with a little reminder that I will return.’

Her face drew away. Nadine’s hands slid down Penny’s back and over her behind, fingers prising her cheeks apart, darting like sharp-nosed fishes into the puckered opening of her smallest orifice. Penny squirmed and squealed just as she was expected to. ‘No,’ she cried. ‘You can’t do that!’

‘Oh yes I can, my pretty pussy. I can do exactly what I want. You told me so yourself.’ Nadine laughed. Penny’s buttocks
burned
and her sex cried out for satisfaction. She was inhibited like a horse in harness. Now she was not just Nadine’s pretty pussy but her little mare, restricted in the covering yard so she could not protest at the stallion’s intrusion. A slimy coldness eased between the cheeks of her behind. ‘What is that?’ she cried. In vain she tried to move away from the sudden intrusion.

‘Just saddle soap,’ cooed Nadine. ‘Just to help my little reminder along a bit.’

Then Penny gasped. Something hard was being pushed into her anus, something perhaps three or four inches long, narrower at its inner end than at its stem, which still seemed to be dividing her cheeks.

‘Grip it tightly, my pretty pussy. We wouldn’t want it to fall out, would we?’

Nadine laughed as she smacked each of Penny’s hot cheeks with the flat of her hand before walking off.

‘But you can’t . . . ’ Penny began.

‘I can,’ Nadine retorted. ‘I’ll be back in ten minutes. You should be about ready by then.’

Managing to turn herself a little bit, Penny peered over her shoulder to see what object had invaded her.

With difficulty, and delight, she could see the long stiffness of the riding crop sticking up from between her cheeks like some oddly angled tail. It was the handle of the riding crop, she guessed, which was firmly embedded in the puckered hole between her taut buttocks.

The pinkness of sunset faded and the stable became darker. More than ten minutes passed. Somehow, she had half-suspected that Nadine would just leave her there to meditate on her riding faults. She closed her eyes and the effort of the day overtook her. She slept; not for long, but just long enough to know when she opened her eyes that the stable was quite a bit darker than it had been.

Horses nickered gently in their stalls. Some pawed the floor impatiently, gathering their bedding up into one gigantic heap. Others just chomped at their hay, oblivious of the delightfully tortured soul in their midst.

It might have been the rustling of straw that woke her up. There were footsteps, but she couldn’t turn around to see if anyone was there. Her neck was weary – the weight of the collar seemed to have increased by a ton. Her sex was still moist, perhaps more so than before.

Hands gripped her hips, and suddenly she felt warm loins against her behind.

‘Who’s . . . ’ she tried to ask and to turn round, but the horse collar was too heavy, the stable just too dark. She cried out as a penis the size of a drum major’s baton entered her.

‘Ahhh!’ she cried, as the penis and, with it, the crop handle pushed against her muscle walls. Both holes were filled, and the sensation made her aching clit ache a lot more.

She was trapped, in need of release yet getting none; her senses soared inexorably higher as the penis and the crop handle pleasured both orifices but left her clitoris untouched. As she cried out that she didn’t think it was fair, she felt the owner of the penis reach his climax, then heard his cry of delight.

With his final spurt, he ran his hand up her back and pushed her head into the water of the trough. When the hand released her, she gasped for breath and shook her head. She tried to look over her shoulder, but whoever had taken advantage of her situation was no longer there. Only the longing for climax still remained with her, and a faint smell of maleness clung damply on her curling hairs.