This six-chapter adventure for W began when a mysterious painted lady emerged from his lake. Her plea forces W to come out of retirement and judge a very kinky contest at the Decennial Competition of Masters and Slaves of the Greater East Coast BDSM Association. This fourth chapter is very strictly trained ponygirls and ponybois demonstrating their training.
WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.
All characters involved in sexual activity in this story are over the age of 18. If you are under the age of 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.
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Chapter Four - Show Ponies
The lights dimmed as WhipMistress Sienna and her golden entourage slowly walked back into the darkness and out the exits to the tents in the back lot which served as dressing/preparation rooms. When the lights came back up, GrandMaster Karl was standing in the middle of the presentation area. A young woman wearing a bright white thong bikini with a barely-there matching top was standing to his left. A very ripped beefcake young man wearing a black Speedo that strained to contain his large package stood to his right. Both were oiled and shiny. And both were holding standard size, white foam posterboard with numbers written on them in dark black marker.
One poster said 9.8, 9.8, 9.8, 9.9, 9.9. There was a line drawn under the numbers and a larger number 9.84 was written near the bottom. The other poster said, 9.8, 9.8, 9.9, 9.9, 9.9. It, too, had a line drawn under the numbers and a larger number written near the bottom. The number on this poster was 9.86.
“Masters and Mistresses, Messieurs and Doms, Neutrals and Guests,” GrandMastser Karl began, “I was disappointed that two of our WhipMasters withdrew from this once a decade contest. But I think the excellence of the two presentations which you witnessed more than made up for that.”
He pointed to the two posters and said, “Look at these scores. Both are the highest in the history of the contest. And the winner has won by only two thousandths of a point.” He paused as if listening to a drum roll and then continued, “And that winner is...” Again, a long pause before loudly declaring, “WhipMistress Sierra!”
As he spoke both posters were flipped over. One said “WhipMaster Wu 9.84.” The other said, “WhipMistress Sierra 9.86.” Both Master Wu and Mistress Sierra walked out to join GrandMaster Karl. They both bowed to the audience and then Master Wu bowed slightly to Mistress Sierra and stepped back to stand with the poster bearers as GrandMaster Karl handed WhipMistress Sierra a small brass trophy declaring her the winner of the contest. After a rather long round of applause, she and WhipMaster Wu, accompanied by the poster bearers walked out of the presentation area.
“And now,” GrandMaster Karl said loudly, “we move to a different category which may... or may not involve whips. And that is the category of ponybois and ponygirls, and of course, pony Masters and pony Mistresses. We don’t have the room in this venue for pony races or full chariot races, so this will be primarily a demonstration of training and response. And we begin with Mistress Tia and her stable of Ponygirls.
A small, lightweight chariot hurried out and made a lap around the performance area. The chariot appeared to have a white aluminum frame with a white front shield, trimmed in gold. The front shield wrapped around to the sides and tapered down to the chariot floor. The wheels were large white-walled bicycle tires intended for use on soft surfaces such as beach sand. Mistress Tia stood in the chariot, holding a front grab bar and looking out at the crowd. She was dressed in a very tight, but not overly revealing, white one-piece swimsuit-style leather outfit. The shiny white of the leather contrasted with the satiny-white of the leggings– or whatever it was that covered her legs and her arms. Her feet were in small, shiny white leather boots while her hands were encased in white soft leather gloves which came about half-way up to her elbows. Two small, black whips were mounted in holders upright near the rear of the chariot.
Two naked ponygirls were up front running between the traces. Perhaps I should say trotting rather than running because they both were wearing white ponygirl hoof boots which forced them to stand basically on tip toe above the shaped hoof which was the sole of the boot. In addition to the hoof boots, each girl was wearing a tall, white, multi-feathered helmet, and nothing else. Unless, of course, you counted the small bells which hung from nipple piercings or the long pony tails which hung out the back of the hoods. The lead girl also had a slightly larger bell which hung from a clit piercing. As they trotted, the bells jangled in sync with their steps. There was no harness as such, instead the two ponygirls gripped the metal trace rods with their hands. They each wore white bicycle gloves, evidently to give them a better grip as they pulled their Mistress in her chariot.
I couldn’t tell if they were oiled up or were just that sweaty from their exertion. Sweat obviously ran in rivulets down their backs and also down their chests. The slight bounce of the running caused the sweat in front to drop off of their nipples without running down onto the bells. Some of the sweat rivulets dripped across their smoothly shaved– or otherwise denuded– slits. The second ponygirl also had a significant amount of wetness on her inner thighs. I didn’t think that was sweat.
On the second lap around the perimeter of the performance area, it became apparent that the chariot was now rapidly spiraling inward toward the center. It took two more laps to accomplish that. Once in the center, Mistress Tia stepped out of the chariot and stood glaring at the crowd with a whip in each hand while her chariot raced out of the arena.
Music began to play through the sound system. It was a symphony of some sort, and I recognized the tune, but it was much slower than I had ever heard it played. The March of the Toy Soldiers from Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite is often heard near Christmas time so I am quite familiar with the tune. But I have never heard it played this slowly.
But then again, I had never seen ponygirls marching to this tune. Our local ballet organization might have a much larger crowd for their annual Nutcracker performance if their dancers were dressed– or undressed– like the sixty ponygirls now coming into the arena.
The ponygirls were dressed– or undressed– very similarly to the ones who had pulled Mistress Tia’s chariot except that rather than large, ornate, multi-feathered headpieces, they had much more simple headpieces with a single feather sticking straight up above their heads. And rather than white bicycle gloves they were wearing white hoof gloves which they kept held up at shoulder level almost as if they had their hands– or should that be hoofs– up in surrender position. All were clean shaven, but none had a clit piercing. They did, however, all have long ponytails coming out of the back of the hoods and small bells hanging from nipple piercings.
The precision of their march was impressive. Their heads were turned slightly so that they were looking at their Mistress in the center of the arena. The hoof boots were in such exact synchronization to the music that you could feel the thump through the floor of the exhibition hall. You could also hear the chime of the tiny bells all ringing together, though it was apparent that not all of them were the same exact note. It created a sort of bell harmony as they rang repeatedly in unison.
Mistress Tia snapped one of her whips in the air. The loud crack echoed through the building and the tempo of the music changed slightly. It was slightly faster, though not fully up to tempo. The line of ponygirls curved inward in a slight spiral, apparently following the same path that the chariot had taken. When the marching ponies were halfway through their second circuit of the arena, Mistress Tia’s whip again cracked and the tempo once more increased. Now the march was at tempo.
It looked like the column of ponies was going to pile up in the middle or perhaps crush Mistress Tia when the lead pony suddenly turned and began walking back alongside the spiral. Shortly after that there was a loud crack of the whip and the tempo again increased. The ponygirls were now all sweating profusely as they attempted to keep their high step in sync with the music. Several of them were no longer bringing their knees all the way up to the proper position, but they were remaining in step. The floor of the building was almost vibrating from the constant pounding of the hoof boots.
The whip cracked once more and the music again increased in speed. I could see some of the ponies almost panting as they strained to keep the tempo of the march while keeping their knees brought up to the proper level. Almost all were successful. The column was now back at the perimeter of the performance area and almost galloping around the arena. Then the chariot returned with the two ponygirls galloping faster than the tempo of the march. They went straight to where Mistress Tia was sanding and skidded to a stop. She hopped aboard and they raced around the performance area until they caught up to the front of the column of ponygirls.
Mistress Tia snapped her whip and the music sped up one last time so that the sweating and nearly exhausted column of ponygirls were now galloping at the same speed as the chariot while Mistress Tia sped out of the performance area. Once all sixty of the ponygirls were out of the arena, the music faded and Mistress Tia re-entered the performance area. Her chariot ponies were now trotting slowly as Mistress Tia took an applause lap around the perimeter of the performance area.
She was smiling and waving to the crowd and occasionally snapping her whip above her head. I looked down at my notes. Ponies– male or female– weren’t my kink. I knew what was expected and what was considered good or bad with a pony presentation, but I had never been that interested. The only devices I had ever built for ponies were a remote control that guided a pony– male or female– by shocking nipples to guide left or right and shocking front or back of the groin to control giddy up or whoa.
I let my mind drift slightly and the image of all those sweaty, naked nubile female bodies filled my mind. I decided on a score of 8.5 for Mistress Tia. I would have made it a 9, equally divided at 4.5 for both showmanship and skill, but I deducted 0.5 from skill for the ponygirls who had not been able to keep both the tempo and proper step. I had barely gotten the score recorded when GrandMaster Karl bellowed out, “And now, Mistress Katrina and her matched teams of ponybois.”
Several thoughts flooded through my mind as another chariot came trotting into the arena performance area. The first thought was that almost all of the ponygirl and ponyboi trainers that I knew were Mistresses. The second was that ponygirl Mistresses almost always dressed in white, but ponyboi Mistresses almost always dressed in black. And the third was, “Where in the hell did Mistress Katrinia find triplet ponybois?”
Mistress Katrina’s chariot was slightly larger than Mistress Tia’s had been, but then she had three very well-built, very muscular ponybois to pull her. Plus, ponybois usually performed or raced bare footed and thus were not encumbered by hoof boots or hoof gloves. There were arguments about whether it was harder to run with your arms held up in hoof boots or tied behind your back, but since no one was racing today, that isn’t important.
All three of the ponybois looked like they could model for ads for any famous gym chain. Their bodies were absolutely sculpted and the definition of the abs was almost unbelievable. Mistress Katrina stood at the front of the chariot holding three sets of reins which went to bits in the mouth of each ponyboi. She was wearing a two-piece leather suit which highlighted her own sculpted body. Her arms and legs were bare except for some rather small, black, soft leather boots which were barely visible as she stood in the chariot and what might have been black bicycle gloves. There were two black whips mounted on the rear of her chariot shield wall. A totally naked female slave stood behind her at the very back of the chariot.
The ponybois were harnessed three across in front of a T-bar which was mounted on the end of two traces which connected under the floor of the chariot. A black leather belt with sliver pyramid studs in two rows all the way around them circled each ponyboi’s waist. A large half-ring on the back of the belt was connected by a threaded chain link to a similar half-ring on the front the bar. The top of the bar was padded so that the ponybois could rest their arms on the padding as they pulled the chariot. The black pull belt was the only thing the ponybois were wearing.
Mistress Katrina stood regally looking out at the crowd as the chariot made a complete lap around the presentation area and then spiraled into the center where it stopped. Mistress Katrina did not step down from the chariot, but instead grabbed both whips and snapped them loudly above her head.
In response, two men dressed in black jeans and a black t-shirt raced out into the arena carrying a rather tall, large object that I did not immediately recognize. They appeared to be identical twins. And from the black leather collars around their throats and the fact that they were barefoot, they also appeared to be slaves. There had been some discussions about possibly cloning true submissives but nothing was done officially because such actions came too close to involuntary slavery. But ethical or not, science marches on. Until someone proves otherwise, however, I will have to– for now– assume that Mistress Katrina has used her enormous wealth to search the world for identical twins or triplets that just happen to be male and submissive. That’s an argument for later. For now, I needed to concentrate on the twin submissives as they set the object next to Mistress Katrina’s chariot, bowed deeply, and then ran out of the arena.
The naked female slave jumped down from the back of the chariot. Her well-oiled body glistened in the bright lights of the performance area. There was absolutely no hair below her neck. The hair on her head was a deep brown that was almost black. It hung very smoothly down her back to well past the cheeks of her ass. She stepped quickly over to the front of the large object and lifted a retainer bracket of some sort. As soon as she did, a large rod moved and I recognized what the object actually was. It was the largest metronome I have ever seen. Way back when I was first starting band, my instructor had a small metronome that sat on a table next to my chair as he gave private lessons. That one was a little over twenty centimeters high. This behemoth was at least two meters high and the pendulum rod was at least a meter and a half.
The naked slave opened a panel on the side of the device and flipped some switches. Then she carefully pulled the pendulum rod to one side and released it with a very slight push. A very loud, “Tock, tock, tock, tock,” filled the entire venue, amplified by the speaker system in the metronome cabinet.
A few moments later the first chariot appeared. It was pulled by a matched set of Oriental triplet ponybois. A naked Oriental female stood in the chariot holding the reins, but she didn’t seem to be guiding the chariot. Her face was almost blank and she seemed to be in that strange pleasure-pain state that most pain sluts enter when they need to endure a long period of punishment. If I had to guess, I would say from physical size and facial shape that all four were Cambodian, but that is only a guess.
The ponybois were prance stepping in exact synchronization with the mega metronome. They were naked except for the huge black belts which connected them to the pull bar on the front of the chariot traces. There were no headdresses, but there was a strange G-string sort of object covering their pricks. It looked like a jeweled tube about twenty-three centimeters in length.
As the chariot entered the arena, Mistress Katrina snapped her whip in their direction just as the Metronome went “tock.” The jewels on the prick shields suddenly lit up in sequence from top to tip and the naked female clenched the reins very tightly. I still wasn’t sure what was happening with the female, but I’ve built similar prick shields. They were a masturbation device intended for a slave. The rate of the stimulation could be controlled by the Master or Mistress. Usually, the intent was to teach orgasm control.
As the Oriental chariot got about one-quarter of the way around the arena, another chariot entered. Again, there were three ponybois. Again, there was a matching female riding in the chariot. But this set was Viking or Icelandic. The black pull belts contrasted sharply against the almost purely white skin of the triplet ponybois. The naked female’s straight, very pale blonde hair hung down her back like smooth straw on a thatched roof. She was slightly more relaxed that the Oriental female, but she still tenses sightly each time the jewels sequenced down the cock shields.
The next chariot was African or perhaps Jamaican. The ponybois were deep ebony black with bodies like warriors. The black pull belts were almost invisible except for the silver metal pyramids which adorned them. The naked female’s hair was intricately braided as it hung down her back. She seemed almost relaxed as she rode into the arena.
As the third chariot began its lap around the performance area, The first chariot passed the judges’ table. From the back, I could see what the females in the chariots were responding to. They weren’t standing in the chariots like Mistress Katrina. No, they were effectively riding on a thick metal bar which extended back from the framework behind the front shield. Their toes just barely touched the floor of the chariot and the way the bar formed a cradle and curved up behind the slave’s ass, it was apparent that she was riding a dual dildo system of some sort. If I were designing it, I would have it vibrate just enough to be pleasurable and then have an electrical pulse in synch with each tock cycle of the ponybois’ cock shields.
A fourth chariot now entered the arena. I made a note on my judge’s sheet, “Red and yellow, black and white.” That is an old– and somewhat racist– line from a hymn from my childhood. It was supposed to describe the nations and peoples of the world. I have known many Native Americans in my years and I have yet to meet anyone who qualified as red. The three ponybois pulling the fourth chariot were very definitely Native Americans. Their very high cheekbones and black, straight hair were the first indicators. Their slightly brownish, olive colored skin also hinted at Native American. But what sealed it for me was that they all looked almost exactly like Sam Two Feathers. Sam’s was the deep base voice who responded to some of my security concerns. I had pressured the committee into contracting for his services for this event to augment the associations normal security. Since I was footing half of the bill, they agreed without argument.
The naked female in the chariot was also Native American, but I am not sure she was a sister clone of the triplets. She had long smooth, shiny black hair which hung down her back almost to her feet. Her skin tone was almost identical to the triplets. But her cheekbones, though high, were not as angular as the ponybois’. Maybe she had a different tribal heritage. Or maybe that is just the way the high cheekbones work for a female.
I watched as the four chariots adjusted slightly so that they were exactly one-quarter of the way around from each other. As they moved in sync with the “tock, tock, tock,” of the mega Metronome, they looked like some strange clock face slowly turning to tell the time. The first chariot had just gotten around to the entryway when Mistress Katrina loudly snapped her whips out over her ponyboi triplets. They didn’t move, but the metronome sped up slightly. I wasn’t looking for it or I would have been able to tell if the device responded to the whip noise or the naked assistant riding in the chariot with the Mistress was pressing some buttons on a remote.
The increase in speed wasn’t significant, maybe 20%, but the effect on the ponybois was very apparent. The jewel-like lights on the penis sheaths were now moving noticeably faster and the effect on the bois penises was apparent in the awkwardness of their steps and the strained look on their faces. The naked female riders were also beginning to have trouble. The pale, pale white Norsewoman was starting to turn a bright shade of pink.
When the third chariot passed the entryway Mistress Katrina again snapped her whips. The metronome was now at approximately double the original speed. The ponybois were high stepping and sweating and straining not to ejaculate. The four naked female slave were squirming on their strange seats trying not to succumb to the sensations.
The first chariot passed the entryway and more whip snaps rang out. I was watching the naked assistant. She did have a small control in her hand which she pressed to speed up the metronome. As the first chariot passed the entryway, she pressed it again exactly in time with the Mistress’s snap of the whip. The speed increased once more. Shortly after the speed increased one of the Oriental ponybois groaned loudly then screamed. Programming in a punishment pulse in such a complex system would have been very difficult. In all likelihood, the pulses remained the same, but now that he had climaxed, his penis was just so much more sensitive that what had been pleasurable became painful. There was only the one cry of pain before the ponyboi recovered, controlled his expression, and got back into step.
The third chariot passed the entryway and once again things sped up. All of the ponybois were now straining very hard trying not to lose control and ejaculate. The black female slave was starting to cry out, “Fuck me. Fuck me. Somebody fuck me!” I heard another ponyboi groan loudly, but there was no scream and none of the teams were out of step or faltering in any way.
Finally, the first chariot reached the entryway and turned out. It was followed by the other three leaving Mistress Katrina’s chariot alone in the center of the arena. The two male slaves in black jeans and t-shirts ran out, stopped the metronome and quickly carried it away. Mistress Katrina bowed to the audience four times, once in each direction and then with a snap of her whip to bring her triplets to full gallop, she sped out of the arena. There was a short period of silence before the applause began. It was loud, but not overly long.
I thought for a moment and then entered a score of eight point zero. Mistress Katrina was undoubtedly the better trainer. I gave her a five for her skill and the training demonstrated by her ponybois and chariot girls. But she presented that training and skill with almost no showmanship. If you want to win any kind of contest, you have to have the razzle dazzle to make the audience. appreciate what you have done. If she hired a consultant from the theatrical world, she would be ready to win this contest next time around.