Saddleworth to Cannes

Story Info
A sequel to A Particularly Easy Pony and Training Rose
6.8k words
4.32
41.4k
1

Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 10/15/2022
Created 10/04/2010
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

Saddleworth to Cannes

A Sequel to A Particularly Easy Pony to Please.

or Training Rose part 5

We all agreed I needed to train intensively for the Grand Prix at Cannes, but maybe my idea of intensive training, eight hours a day spent actually training, say seven until twelve, with a coffee break around ten and hour and a bit for lunch and and then train till four thirty and then relax maybe see a movie before getting tacked up again and sleeping in a Pony stall at Melton Villa, that and rationing my sex and not riding my motorbike, seemed fair enough to me but no Daddy thought this was unrealistic, especially when some girls had literally been bred for Pony Girl competition.

I should have realised Daddy and Tom had other ideas, but I missed the signs, "Gerald," Tom said to Daddy one morning after Tom gave me my emema, and when I was waiting for my arm clincher and gag to be removed so I could eat breakfast.

Tom had actually called Daddy Gerald, Daddy only ever let his closest friends call him Gerald, Major General McNaughton was his usual favourite form of address, Lord Melton, his least favoured.

"Gerald, ah Sir, I've been studying the films you sent over and."

"And what?" Daddy asked in irritation.

"It's Roses posture," he said, "Round shouldered." he said.

"Well make her do press ups man!" Father exclaimed in exasperation.

"Her head is too far forward sir." he said, "For a Pony," he squirmed suspecting he had incurred Daddy's extreme displeasure.

"I know Tom, she looks lovely in a ball gown but," he said, "You've only got ten days before Cannes,"

"Dot, said about a posture hook," Tom suggested. Dot, Dorothy Channing, was Daddy's head groom, and a Posture hook was gross.

"She can't wear a Posture Hook!" Daddy exclaimed.

"Not here sir, no, but Henry Bryant will have her at Saddleworth for a reasonable fee. just for week if we like,to toughen her up sir."

"It will need some organising," Father suggested.

"I'll run her up there sir," Tom suggested, "In think we should make her train overnight and so maybe a mild sedative."

"You are not, repeat not using my Bentley." Daddy insisted.

"No sir, I thought perhaps the VW Golf?" he suggested.

"That's Georgina's, oh why not, there's hardly a panel that hasn't been repaired." Daddy said dismissively.

I stamped my foot angrily, he made it sound like I was a careless driver, but I was a very good driver, my instructor at the Silverstone Track day said he never saw anyone try the Complex flat in fifth before, or use the handbrake as much as I did, I was just unlucky.

"You know Tom, I could never have suggested a Posture hook in a million years, you have a great future as a trainer Tom." Daddy said.

And no future at all as my boyfriend I decided, although just then, cold and wet from my al fresco enema, and bound and helpless I wouldn't have cared who wanted to be my lover as long as they had seven inches of solid warm muscle.

I had a dozen good reasons why it was a stupid idea but with my bit- gag in I was in no position to explain, so when they went to take me to the tack room I simply refused to move.

"Rose, walk on," Daddy insisted, I stamped my foot angrily.

"She's all yours," Daddy said as he stood aside and handed Tom a whip, I stared at Tom, he wouldn't dare, but he did, left and then right across my buttocks on the diagonal, ouch! it hurt, and he kept going, I decided this wasn't the best time for a show down, I'd just wait till he wanted sex!

I followed Tom to the tack room, the Posture hooks were not used often, part of it, we called it the hair wrap, was like an overgrown hair curler, with nobbles which the "victim's" hair could be wrapped around and held secure, the other end was a hook in stainless steel, at least ours were, some were simple stove enamelled iron, Yuck. Both had loops on and were connected by a thick leather strap with a buckle and lots of adjustment holes that went up your back and they also had an adjustable screw fitting for "fine tuning," so that when it was tightened you had to keep your chin up and back arched, or it threatened to rip your hair out or tear your bottom.

Oh yes, the hook goes up your bottom, and a very long way, it is thoroughly unpleasant to say the least and of course you can't wear clothes with it, or sit down, or see your feet, Arrggghhh!

I stamped with frustration, but Dot appeared very quickly, "Fancy you with a posture hook Miss Georgina, I must get a photo!" she chortled, "I'll use that new carbon fibre one in gold to match your hair," she suggested, she meant the wrap not the hook.

Oh if only I could have spoken, or freed my arms or even kicked her! but I couldn't, and I just had to stand there as she started to braid my long blonde hair around the hair wrap, damn it my hair needed a wash and shampoo not be tortured in a posture hook hair wrap.

Dot did her usual neat job binding my hair securely into the wrap and then she sealed it in place with what felt like gallons of hair lacquer.

"Now we'll just try the hook and then you can have your breakfast," Dot suggested, "bend over!"

I tried to resist but Tom actually swatted me under my breasts, the sod, I hated him, how dare he, and before I knew I was bending over the bench.

He held my shoulders as Dot manipulated the hook, it was nasty and cold and covered with slimy lube,and there was no way Dot was going to get that horrible thing into my bottom, no way in the world.

It went in with a horrible cold feeling deep oh so deep inside, I shook and shuddered and tried to get away, but it was hopeless and then they made me stand upright, I stamped and shook my head but still they insisted and now Tom knew exactly where to swat me under my breast, I jumped up and Dot just hooked one end of the strap through the loop in the end of the hook and the other end to the hair wrap and started to pull it tight.

It was horrible, absolutely vile, I thought they would tear my hair out or split my bottom, "You pull it tight like this first Tom" Dot was saying, "See pull it good and tight, you want the ass hole about half an inch open ideally," she was saying as I arched my back and stared at the ceiling and planned how I could slowly kill the pair of them.

"That's it," she said, "Tighten the buckle and" she continued, "slip the tool off and then tighten it on the screw, Ok?"

Tom agreed, the bastard, so I stood there, head well back, breasts thrust out looking completely ridiculous, "Let's get her used to it," he said.

"Look at her Tom, suddenly she's got breasts!" Dot exclaimed, "Now hitch her to the cart and tke her for a run but be careful she wont be able to see thing so drive very carefully, accurately," Dot insisted.

Personally I wanted my breakfast, but no they fitted the waist belt and shoulder straps and all the rest of the cart harness and led me out to the cart shed, I would have run away if only I could have seen where to go, all I could see was sky and if I tried to look down I either nearly scalped myself ripped my bottom open or both.

They hitched up the cart and Tom ordered "Walk on," so I did, "Giddy up" he said soI lunged forward, his weight went back the shafts came up and we slithered to a halt with me about thee feet in the air and him on the ground still in the seat looking up at me. I could see him reflected on the Tack room window,

"I suppose you think that's funny," Dot exclaimed.

Actually I did.

"You got to watch that one, her acceleration," Dot said seriously, "keep your weight forward and you'll be fine," then she simply grabbed the shafts and pulled me down and Tom up, so I could continue.

I trotted around the grounds for about half an hour pretty aimlessly but as I never actually ran into a tree or into the lake I came to realise that maybe Tom knew a little about driving, and then it was breakfast time, and the miserable sods put me a bucket of Museli and a bowl of orange juice, in a stall, popped my gag bit out and then rushed out of the way before I could complain.

You can't eat from a bucket with your hands bound behind you and a posture hook holding your head back, I tried very hard but it's impossible, believe me.

Dot relented in the end, and undid the strap on the posture hook, so at least I could bend, and although it was hardly an elegant way to eat I had soon scooped every last scrap from that bucked and drained the orange juice bowl as well, I was so hungry, and that's when I realised they had spiked my orange juice, with a sedative or sleeping draft.

I remember bits of the trip to Yorkshire, actually it was a good thing I was drowsy because Tom is an appalling driver, and my poor little car, she was being overtaken all the time she must have been humiliated, I hated being overtaken, ugggh!

They must have dressed me for the trip and then got me tacked up before I woke because I was tacked up when I came round in the early evening, posture hook everything, except there was a new leather arm clincher of a new style I hadn't seen before.

"Hey up lass, long time no see," Henry Bryant greeted me,"Oh bloody hell where yer clit ring gone?" he asked. "Oi, Warrinder, where's her bloody clit ring,"

"Ah she decided," he said.

"Yer soft southern lump she don't bloody decide she's a bloody Pony you wazzock." Henry observed pleasantly.

"Look Georgina is my girl friend as well," he said.

"Bloody hell, you screw yer pony, up the ass, up the cunt any bloody which way up but you do not, repeat not fall in love with em, do you understand!" he raged.

"Yes Henry, good advice but you never stuck to it did you?" Martha said as she emerged from the shadows, "I was West Yorkshire Dressage champion two years running, Aileen, Ellie they used to call me, sort of put it behind me now so I calls myself Martha, like Mother ent it, " she said, "Any road this un couldn't afford to pay me prize money so he says lets get wed, and here I am!"

"Look Warrinder you might just as well bugger off down south again and come back when we're done."

"I suppose," he said, "I suppose she's in good hands." and that's the last I saw of him for a week.

Henry on the other hand set about fitting me with a clit ring again, he never bothered to freeze it He just banged a gold rod through with the tool circled it round nd soldered it with some hi tech

cordless solder gun and it hurt like hell,

"Got a comforter Martha, I reckon a three," Henry announced.

"See his Lordship says you 'ent got to be fucked up the front so you can wear a bloody dildo 24/7 if that's what he bloody wants, Martha!"

"Yes Henry," she replied. "I'm here," she said, "I reckon a three and a half."

"Got any lube?" he asked.

"You got to be joking she looks like she's got an oil pipe loose," Marth inelegantly if accurately described my state of arousal and easily slid the three and a half up my vagina, where to my surprise he connected a little strap from the blunt end to my clit ring."

"Like it, one stamp for yes." Henry suggested.

No I did not like it one bit, no way so I gave about a dozen stamps of disapproval to Henry's amusement, "Right cart up to moor for you young Pony, get Annie to help you Martha, I needs a beer." Henry said in his charming manner. "And try a skeleton boot."

The skeleton boot had a sole for the ball of your foot and was shaped like a stiletto but had no heel, the straps were pretty minimal so it was like running barefoot in high heels, but had the big advantage that you could run over stones, I didn't really mind, it was better than long sweaty leather boots really. Martha helped me off with my trainers and on with the skeletons and then with her daughter Annie's help Martha's soon had the harness on me and they took me outside.

It was nearly dark outside, and when I saw they had fitted lights to the cart I just about flipped, "Calm down!" Martha chided and gave me a few swats with the whip, "Henry knows what he is at."

Did he, we must have gone up and down the track to the moor a dozen times, Henry sitting in the cart steering me because my head was so far back I couldn't have seen even if it hadn't been dark, and it wasn't too bad actually, he was very sensitive as a driver and as soon I learned to turn with the lightest touch on the reins I was fine and then he stopped me at the top of the climb.

I felt fingers scrabbing at the belt on my posture hook, oh god Henry wants to fuck my bottom was my first reaction but no, he just loosened it so I could see where I was going.

"That better pet," he asked, I stamped.

"Right, walk on, that daft Warrinder bugger been watching for the last hour but he's buggered off now," Henry said conspiratorially, so come on let's see what you're made of," he chuckled and in the faint moonlight I saw the track stretching ahead to Eli's cottage, it looked strange, usually I had been blindfold along this stretch before but now with the moonlight and the glow from the lights of nearby towns staining the darkness it seemed somehow rather surreal.

"Turn towards pub lass," Henry suggested, as we approached Eli's and then after a quarter mile he stopped me, "You know this bit," he said, "Dead straight, near on a mile," so I want you to run.

I turned and stared.

"All right just a moment," he said, and he climbed down and unclipped the dildo from the clit ring and pulled it out, I have never been so relieved in my life it did absolutely nothing for me, next he loosened the posture hook completely and pulled that out of me too, and he secured the hair binder to the cart harness so it didn't flop about. "That better?" he asked.

I stamped, "So run girl, You ready, three two one, go!" And I ran, I was tired but the adrenalin kicked in I ran and ran galloping over the ground, "Go on lass go!" Henry shouted, as I hurtled along, the cart hardly slowing me at all, just the lack of my arms pumping slowing me fractionally.

The Pub loomed from the darkness far sooner than I expected and Henry led me into the Car Park and parked the cart between a MINI and a Range Rover lashed my reins round the fence and wandered in the public bar.

I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me but then he reappeared with a couple of hot meat pies and some drinks on a tray.

"Look lass," he said, "I want to have a chat with thee," he said, "So bloody shut up 'till I says me piece, alright?"

I stamped and he undid my gag- bit.

"Now look, it seems to me you're just about perfect, I ain't saying that so as I can screw you because I'll do that on the way home anyway, but the thing is." he said.

"Yes?" I said awkwardly.

"You any good at half marathons?" he said.

"Yes, Dot often makes me run to the village, that's fourteen miles or so."

"See there's one on Saturday and Harry Wallace's daughter is favourite, he's a cocky sod."

"Right, and what's in it for me?"

"Comfy bed, bit of bar work, no more training till Saturday, oh and best bit, I won't screw you on way home."

"One condition," I suggested, "I want to get absolutely sozzled, I haven't been drunk for ages."

"Good Lass, Warrinder's buggered off, Police Camera's picked him up on A1M a few minutes ago, so we're safe for a bit," he announced, "right, I'll get you some clothes."

"Henry!" I protested, "Don't leave me like this!"

"Oh, yes," he said and he loosened my arm clincher, my arms hurt like hell and before I realised he was gone.

"Evening" I heard a voice as the chap climbed into the Range Rover, I shrank inside with humiliation.

"I am not doing that for you if you get a drink drive ban Dan Keating, don't you even think about it!" his companion exclaimed and then they were gone.

The food smelled good, too good, so I washed both pies down with the orange juice, liberally laced with vodka I suspected, and Henry' pint of real ale as well, suddenly I felt much better so unhitched the harness from the cart and went to find Henry.

You know when you walk into a room all dressed up to the nines and you just dream that everyone will stop talking and stare? Well forget haute couture and try Northern area Pony girl tack if you want to make an entrance, you could have heard a pint glass drop, and I'm sure several did, I suppose that's when I sort of realised my mistake.

"Stripper's here Clive!" some wag shouted.

"It's that 'un as we had a bit back," Arthur Grimsdyke exclaimed, "Anybody lend me a tenner?"

"I'm not the bloody stripper," I announced, but the warmth of the pub and the smell of stale beer and the smell tobacco smoke, yes I know it's illegal but Sergeant Wilde was there smoking his pipe in uniform, so it didn't seem to be a priority, and anyway I slumped over the nearest table.

Clive the Landlord revived me with a large Vodka and Lemon in a pint glass, at least I supposed there was some Lemon I didn't remember much afterwards, except going upstairs and someone arguing over whether they could take me up the bum and the front at the same time.

"Kiss me Tom I ordered," and this weasly face with a full beard kissed me, it was like being slapped in the face by a rat, yuck.

"Her thought you was Warrender," Henry said faintly in the background, and I heard him say

"No you can't fuck her face for a tenner you pay twenty five like everyone else," someone argued and he replied "Sergeant Wilde gets a Public service discount."

The main thing was I was nice and warm, that was all that mattered, as long as they used condoms!

Henry kept the Vodka coming and I suppose at some stage he took me home, it turned out they loaded me in the cart and towed it behind Sid Farnsworths quad bike with Henry hanging in to a Mudguard and then Henry pulled it the last bit.

The Band of the Coldstream Guards were accompanying Status Quo in concert inside my head when I woke with the dawn, I had the mother and father of a headache, and I was so sore from the night before and I never wanted sex or Vodka ever again.

"Oh you decided to join us," Martha enquired, "Had a good sleep?" I looked around bleary eyed, I was in one of the stalls at Henry's stable complex lying on the straw and almost completely naked, even my arm clincher was gone, only the hair wrap remained.

"It's eight o'clock." I pointed out, hardly a lie in."

"What about yesterday?" she said, "You stood up threw up, pissed yourself and went back to sleep." she explained.

"Oh!" I said.

"Yes," she said, "Twenty seven, Twenty eight hours, not a bad sleep."

"Oh god!" I said "My training."

"Henry said you're coming along real nicely and there's two hundred and fifty quid for you, that's your share of the other night," she gabbled, "Oh and can you do Thursday week for the Hunt?"

"No I can't." I said, "I'll be in France."

"Henry said you're to come in the house and get cleaned up when you're sober enough to walk," Martha said.

"Ok," I agreed and climbed unsteadily to my feet, Martha grabbed my hands and unceremoniously pulled them around behind me and wound an elastic tie around them, "What?" I demanded.

"Enema, no arguments," she said.

Al fresco enema's are no fun at the best of times but I wasn't even tacked up, anyone could see it was me, and of course I had an audience, Annie and he brother Albert, and some bloke from the pub and a lorry driver doing a delivery and Martha just rams the nozzle on the hose pipe up my bum and turns the water on, whoosh.

"Ahhh" I yelled and when my tummy swelled right up so I couldn't stand any more she let it go, and then did it again, it was so humiliating, but it sure woke me up and the hangover became just a secondary concern.

"What a mess," Martha said as she sprayed my legs and washed the mess away, "That's what happens when you miss a day,"

"I'd never have believed it if I hadn't sin it with me own eyes." the Lorry driver said as he handed Henry what looked like a twenty pound note, and before I could react Martha was spraying my hair with freezing cold water.

12