Pony Boy Ch. 09

To be fair, as regards the actual show, Jed and I were getting better organised and it went as slickly as it could. I pinned on the smile, turned the vamp up to eleven and went out and shook my booty. The drunken audience lapped it up, counted along as I got caned and, when we took our bow at the end, the cheers, and jeers, were deafening.

It was after the show that the real nightmare began. Jed and I were, as ever, called out to entertain the guests and, as ever, I was taken straight to the party boy and offered as some sort of favour. However, Billy Jenkins was not after a simple blow job, or a fuck, or anything so direct. He had one simple aim; to humiliate me as much as he could.

And he didn't mess around. He had me sit on his knee and, under the pretence of ruffling my hair, he dislodged my wig and then acted surprised that I was wearing one. He held it up for all to see and then tossed it on to the table in front of him. Immediately I knew this wasn't going to go well. It wasn't just that I knew how stupid I looked in drag without it; it was also a major part of my shield. Billy Jenkins understood this. He wasn't interested in Belinda, he wanted to hurt Ben. He had me stand up and then, on the pretence of not being able to see me properly, get up on the table and stand there. Then he went to the DJ, had a quick word and then took the microphone off him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, although we've all had glimpses of what young Belinda here has to offer I'm sure you're all eager to see me more. Am I right?" There were cheers of 'yes' from the other guests. "Come on, darling, don't let your adoring public down. Let's have your kit off."

Immediately the DJ started playing 'The Stripper' and, while the guests chanted 'off, off, off', I made as much as I could out of taking off my gymslip and letting it fall to the table. There was no way, of course that I was going to be allowed to stop there and, after a certain amount of bump and grind, my panties followed.

The music came to an end and I, stark naked except for my shoes, was left standing on the table feeling a bit stupid. Billy Jenkins reached over, grabbed my gym slip and riffled through the pocket where, of course, he found the condoms.

"What have we got here? One, two, three... let's see... fifteen... twenty condoms! Wow, talk about in your dreams, darling. To get through this lot you really would have to bang like a barn door in a gale. Mind you, twenty condoms is a bit hopeful. Did you really think there would be that many people here who would want to fuck a cheap whore like you?"

"It pays to be prepared."

"What was that? Speak up."

"It pays to be prepared."

"Prepared! What are you? Some sort of Boy Scout? Twenty condoms is more than being prepared, darlin', in your case it's bloody fantasy land. After all, what makes you think any of us want to have anything to do with a manky little slag like you?"

I didn't have an answer to that one so I just kept silent.

"Well, anyone?" He looked around the table. " Do we have any takers? Anyone here want to shag the tart? Not getting many takers, are we. Tell you what, you give us a little dance and I'll see what I can do."

The DJ played something with quite a hard beat and I started to dance along to it. Now, in full Belinda gear, I could have given them something worth watching but, stripped naked like this I knew that I just looked ridiculous and that cramped my style.

Billy meanwhile went around the table and bent down so he and one of the guests could share the mic.

"How about you, Chas? Fancy a bit, do you?"

"What? Of that? I wouldn't be seen dead sticking my prick in a scabby tart like that. You never know what you'll catch."

"Know what you mean, Chas, I know what you mean." He moved on to another guest.

"What about you, Jackie boy, you're known for not being too fussy."

"Give us a break, Billy. Who would fuck that when there are dogs on the street?"

"Do you hear that, Belinda? Not much use for your condoms now, is there? Maybe if you asked nicely. Try Johnny Baker, yeah, the one in the blue shirt."

There was no way out of this so I had to play along. I looked around and there was one of the guests looking obvious and, indeed, wearing a blue shirt.

"Please sir," I said, camping it up as much as I could, "please would you fuck me, please sir."

"How about it Johnny? Fancy the slag?"

"Leave it out, Billy, I've only just finished eating." For some reason this was seen as fabulously funny.

"Seems to me, darlin', that the only one who's going to fuck you is that gayboy partner of yours. Where's he gone?"

Jed, who had been keeping in the background, stepped forward.

"Well, would you fuck the slag?"

"Yes, but I have to. That's what I'm paid to do."

Again this had the punters in fits of laughter.

"Well, go on then, give us a show, that's what we're paying for."

Jed got up on the table with me. Under Billy's orders I got down on my hands and knees and, right there, in front of everyone, Jed fucked me. Sure, it wasn't more than half an hour since he had done exactly that for the entertainment of these very people and it was far from the first time I had been fucked in public but this was far, far more than that. I had been systematically stripped of my dignity. The mask that I usually hid behind had been torn away. Although Billy still referred to me as 'Belinda' there was nothing left of her to hide behind. By removing my wig, far more than removing my clothes, he had made sure I was naked in every sense of the word.

And, while I knew it was all bravado, while I knew it was all put on, the constant put downs had got to me. I was, indeed, the pathetic slag that no one wanted, the slut so desperate that only those who were paid would fuck me.

And Billy wanted to get every ounce of pleasure from my suffering. He was sat so that I was looking straight at him. I bowed my head and closed my eyes but it was never going to be that simple.

"Look up, darling'" He reached out and, holding me by the jaw, forcing me to look him in the eye. There was no escape, none at all.

If he wanted to humiliate me he was getting his money's worth. I was falling apart in front of him.

Fortunately this didn't last long. Within minutes Jed, to the cheers and encouragement of the guests, was reaching his climax and, with a roar of triumph he came, buried to the hilt inside me. There was a certain amount of clapping as we climbed down off the table but our part in the entertainment was over. I grabbed my clothes and wig and, together, Jed and I went back to the dressing room.

I couldn't even find the energy to get dressed. I sat, naked and shivering, staring at myself in the mirror, feeling like I was falling into a bottomless pit. Jed, bless him, said nothing but waited quietly until I was ready. Then, when the tears came, he put his arm around my shoulder and held me tight.

"Come on, Ben. Let's get you home."

I looked at him blankly.

"Come on. Put on some clothes, get that make-up off and let's get you out of here."

I did as I was told and, half an hour later, we were catching a cab together. Our first stop was Jed's place.

"Pay the man off, Ben. You're coming inside with me."

I didn't argue but paid off the taxi and, together, we trudged up the endless stairs to fortress Jed. Once there, he all but ordered me under his shower and, while there is some types of dirt that water, however hot, won't wash away, I did feel a lot better by the time I had finished. When I emerged I wrapped a towel around my waist and went to find Jed who was sat in his kitchen waiting for me. I sat down opposite and he passed me a cup of tea.

"What's he got on you?" he asked.

"He threatened my family. Sue, my sister, she's only sixteen and Archie... I was a fool, Jed, a bloody fool to have got myself into this in the first place."

"You're not the first and you won't be the last. Look at Little Angel, what's his name, Jack or something. He's just the same. Thinks he's being so big and bold and daring and, all the while, they're reeling him in. Oh, it's all special treatment at first, until they get the hooks in."

"Yeah, Mr Mason told me this morning that he's got plans for him. He thinks Jack and I will look good together in a sister act, Jackie and Belinda Bombshell. Looks like you'll be fucking the two of us before too long."

"Jesus!"

"Jed, how do you cope? How do you survive? You've been doing this longer than I have. How do you manage?"

"I just do. So will you; you have no choice. I just keep thinking 'one day...'."

"One day...? What, over the rainbow?"

"Something like that. Seriously, some of the guys, they've given up. This is what they are and this is what they do. Don't get like that, don't ever get like that."

"Keep on dreaming, eh?"

"Yeah, keep on dreaming."

"Thanks, Jed. You've been... I don't know what I'd have done without you. I know that sounds trite but I mean it."

"I don't need thanks."

"Well, you're getting them anyway. Now, it's late and I ought to go. Leave you to get your beauty sleep." I stood up from the table. "I'll go and get dressed."

"What's up, bored with me already?" Jed stood up as well.

"No, of course not. I just thought... I thought you'd be bored with me."

"God, you're dumb."

He took me and led me through to his bedroom.

"Get in. I'll be back in a moment."

"I heard the sound of plumbing coming from the bathroom and, when he returned, he too was naked. He got in beside me and pulled me into him.

"You don't tell anyone, no one at all. This is our secret, just us, just the two of us. That's important, really important."

"Of course."

"Outside of this room we're just two ponyboys. Nothing special except, maybe, a bit of rivalry because of the way we needle each other. Understood?"

"Understood. And inside this room? What are we then?"

"That's our secret."

He held me tight, just cuddling. He knew, as I did, that sex had been ruined for us for a while. We would recover, we would mend each other, but to have him fuck me then would have brought back all the pain and humiliation. What we had, what we shared, was a million miles from the filth that we had been put through earlier. Neither of us wanted to do anything that might link them.

Come Sunday morning Jed kicked me out early. There was still something special between us but he was clamming up again and I knew there was something he wasn't saying. He urged me once again to keep our relationship secret and I assured him I would.

Sunday night was another Belinda gig; another middle aged businessman who wanted his ego flattered by a 'girlfriend' with that little extra. At least the sex was simple, straightforward and soon over. Monday was pretty much the same thing except, this time, it was Ben who was stepping out. Tuesday, mercifully, was a night off, even if Mr Mason did grumble about it when he came down to the gym on Wednesday morning. Wednesday night was another Belinda gig, this time guy who wanted to tie me up with ropes before he fucked me. In some ways this made things easier. I was getting used to letting the punter do whatever he wanted to me; bound head and foot I had no choice.

Thursday was, of course, race day. As the minibus rounded us all up Jack was there as well, looking a bit subdued, not to say terrified. I asked if he was OK and he assured that everything was fine but it was easy to tell that it wasn't.

"Looks like Jacky boy has had the Archie treatment," Jed commented quietly as we were waiting to get showered. "Any money you like he gets told to pull a race and that's when Mr Mason steps in and 'saves' him. Sound familiar?"

All too familiar. I watched with interest as he got ready. His nerves were really playing him up. I wouldn't actually be able to watch the play go down. We would, inevitably, be in separate halves of the draw as Mr H would want a potential College Boy vs Little Angel final and that meant that we would be quite far apart in the line of sulkies. Even if my blinkers weren't closed they would be fitted and that meant my view would be severely restricted.

And then I was far too busy to think about him at all, except as a rival pony. Pete was, once again, my jockey and I knew that, fully shaven and oiled, I really looked the business between the shafts. Sure, I was vain and conceited but if I was going to be a ponyboy then I was determined to be the best I could. What is more, even if I did have real competition for a change, I was still a popular pony and, as I stood tall waiting for the racing, there were plenty who would come and admire me, plenty who wanted to touch, to feel, to fondle. One of the punters even commented on how my prick was hard and proud in its straps and not like Little Angel's wilted carrot, as he put it. This, of course was music to my ears.

The races were handicapped and, as one of the favourites, I was carrying quite a bit of weight. I didn't mind too much as I imagined that Little Angel would be similarly held back. However, with all the weight I was carrying, the heats were harder and, as I made my way towards the final, I was getting increasingly exhausted.

And there we were, Little Angel and I, once again head to head in the finals. I could tell that quite a bit of money had been wagered and this was what the punters had all been waiting for. As I was led out onto the course my blinkers were open and, as Little Angel was first the start line, I glanced across and had a good look. There was no doubt that he was pretty. He was trim, fit and young, and his cute little arse looked fine with the pony tail apparently sprouting from it. I could imagine just how many of the punters would take one look and want to fuck him senseless. However, this just spurred me on. I was top pony, I was the one they all wanted to fuck and I was determined that it would stay that way. I was determined to beat him and keep on beating him.

When the starter's flag dropped he went off like a rocket but, this time, I was ready for him and was, just, able to keep the inside track around the bend. And then, down the back straight, he made another play and, again, I was just about able to keep him off. I had to dig deep, really deep but the anger running within me was fuelling me, pushing me harder.

As I came to the bend at the end of the fourth lap I nearly entered it too fast and it took all I had to keep the sulky upright. By the lack of signals I was guessing that Pete was simply hanging on for dear life. This was my race, mine! Mine!

By the end of the seventh lap it was all becoming a bit of a blur. I only knew where we were in the race because of the commentary coming from the Tannoy. If Little Angel was going to make his move it would have to be soon and, indeed, I could sense that he was close. I couldn't see but I could feel him pushing for the inside of the last bend. I remembered the trick that Jed had played on me. I pulled out, letting him think there was a way through on my inside and then, at the last moment, swerved hard back in, slamming the door shut on him. I was round the last bend, into the last straight, I was nearly there... nearly... The crowd were shouting, Pete was shouting, the whole warehouse was alive with noise. I'd done it. I was there, I'd won. I'd won!

I couldn't really collapse, not with the way I was attached to the sulky but my legs went from under me, I keeled forward but my wrists chained to the shafts of the sulky kept me upright and I ended up knelt with my forehead all but touching the ground. There were a hundred and one people around me but I couldn't do anything but stay there. Then, thank heavens, someone unclipped my wrists and I was able to lie in a more comfortable position. Similarly, the bit was removed from my mouth to help me breath.

It didn't take long before Mr H came over and pushed his way through the crowd around me.

"Is he OK?"

"He's fine. Just needs to catch his breath."

"Can you get him back to the centre circle?"

"Yeah. He should be OK now."

I was helped to my feet to resounding cheers. I had certainly given the punters what they wanted. Someone passed Pete a bottle of water and I was given a long cool drink. However, the show was far from over and, as soon as I had drunk my fill, my bit was refastened, my blinkers were closed and I was reattached to the sulky. Inevitably, I was led back to the centre circle and the hobble re-applied.

I was quite the hero after such a close fought race and, as Pete massaged life back into my tired legs, there were plenty of others who were keen to show their appreciation. I know it was petty and childish of me but I loved it. Of course, the tips being thrust into my harness were welcome but the adulation was the gold I was really after.

I was still drifting on this cloud when Mr Mason came over.

"The crowd are all after a rematch. Will he be ready in, say, twenty minutes?"

"He's about ready now. He won't be as fast this time but, you know College Boy, he always puts his heart into it."

"That's because he knows what will happen if he doesn't."

"Nah, it's more than that with this one. Look how hard his prick is. From the moment I oil him up ready for his harness until he takes it off at the end he loves every second. And, when he loses, he's gutted, truly gutted and just wants to get back out there and win the next one. Born to race, I tell you."

"And what about Little Angel? What do you make of him?"

"He's fast and there's no doubting he's pretty but... he's not a fighter. Look at that last race. Little Angel should have won it somewhere around the seventh lap but this one," Pete patted my backside, "simply wouldn't let him. Mind you, the way Mr H is handicapping I wouldn't like to call any race at the moment."

"Thanks, Pete," and, with that, Mr Mason wandered off.

I wasn't called for any of the ad-hoc races but I knew what was coming and there, right at the end of the meeting, I heard over the Tannoy, "ladies and gentlemen, for our last race of the evening, by popular demand, a rematch between Little Angel and College Boy with the usual added incentive for the winner. This will be a handicap race over four laps and, as College Boy won earlier, he will be carrying five pounds extra while Little Angel will be carrying five pounds less. The betting stalls will be open for another ten minutes so make sure to get your money in early."

My heart sunk a little. Mr Mason had listened to Pete and taken his comments about handicapping on board. Given how close the last race had been the extra difference in weights was going to make it so much harder to win. What is more, when the hobble was removed, I found my tired legs were unwilling to move.

However, the thought of not trying never entered my mind. It wasn't just that I was rightly scared of what Mr Mason would do if I didn't try, Pete was right, it was far more about an inner pride. If this little runt was going to beat me then he would have to work hard for his victory.

The sulky seemed as heavy as lead and I knew it was going to be less agile around the corners. Quite how much of this was the extra five pounds and quite how much purely psychological is moot. Even before I left the centre circle I had the feeling that things were going against me.

I never had a chance. Little Angel went off like a rocket and I struggled to keep up with him. By the time we had finished the second lap he was a full length ahead and in control of the race. Maybe, just maybe, had I had the full eight laps to work on I might have been able to claw it back but, with the best will in the world, when I went for my reserves of strength I found the well was dry. I was going to lose and there was nothing I could do about it. The best I could hope for was to prevent it from being embarrassing.