this.
Everything about the slave was perfect, including her pearly white teeth clenched round the bit.
“Tell me more about them. Please!” Clara whispered.
“Well, this one’s name is Misty. She’s not born and bred Greenlawns stock…..Jim, have you got Misty’s pedigree, I can never remember,” Anne replied.
A chubby black man in a straw hat came out from a nearby building and joined the group.
“ We bought her last year Ma’am, she’s by Mr Landon’s Jim outta Mr Howton’s Juanita from over on the East coast,” he growled in a voice that contrasted strangely with his sunny countenance, and moved on to stand in front of the second Hispanic looking pony slave. “This here’s Sadie, she’s bought in from the mainland and her paperwork says she’s by Macgregor’s Benny from Richmond way outta Mary who was owned by the Samuels family from that ways too. ”
“Thanks Jim. I can never remember the hacking ponies, but this last one’s a racer and Greenlawns born and bred.”
They had moved to stand in front of the black slave, where Anne had Clara note that the hacking ponies, used for prolonged jaunts around the estate were solidly built around the thighs and quite deep chested for endurance. The black girl was an entirely different beast. She was taller and slimmer, her sinews longer and less pronounced than the other two.
“We only keep two for hacking,” Anne explained. “So we thought we’d treat Clara to a real spin. This is Greenlawns Pride, she’s by Big Paul who works in our Hillside plantation in the north of the estate, out of Daphne who’s about to produce again any day now. Daphne’s a wonder, she’s produc ed no less than five fillies and they’ve all fetched good prices. George says he wouldn’t mind seeing what he could get out of her himself! This one actually won the two mile at the Rosebowl meet last year. Climb aboard, Clara and I’ll give you a quick driving lesson .”
Dazed, dazzled and feeling very restless and hot in her constricting clothes next to the naked slaves, Clara watched as Anne jerked the reins down and made the black girl kneel down, lowering the shaft for her to step across and settle herself before she stood up again. Clara found she was sitting on a level with the pony’s waist and when Anne handed her the driving whip, it was plain that the back and buttocks were perfectly placed to take the stiff length of cord coming off the whippy shaft.
“For today, just whip the bits you can see,” Anne suggested. “Tomorrow you can practise getting at the tits and cunt.”
For the first time since the mating shed, Clara found herself in possession of a whip and expected to use it. She studied the gleaming, chocolate brown skin of the back presented to her by Greenlawns Pride – the slave didn’t even have a proper name! Somehow that made Clara melt and moisten – and the de sire to carve some stripes on the anonymous body was irresistible. She gathered the reins in one hand, jerking back slightly and watching as the pony’s head came up in response . It was immediately clear that a pony slave was far more responsive than an ordinary pony and by keeping the reins tight, Cla ra was able to instruct her to stay just where she was.
Once that had been established, Clara worked the whipcord back and forth across the dark and polished skin of the back and buttocks, getting the feel for the range, the weight of the lash and the stiffness of the cord. She managed eight or ten clean sweeps, keeping the cord from tangling with either the arms or the reins which would have lessened the impact of the blows. Greenlawns Pride was obviously a thoroughbred and only stamped one foot at the ninth lash to diffuse the pain. Disappointingly however, her skin showed no trace whatever of the lash but Anne and Isabelle applauded.
“Excellent! Good clean strikes straightaway! I’m most impressed my dear!”
Anne clicked her tongue and whipped her pony up, Isabelle followed
Everything about the slave was perfect, including her pearly white teeth clenched round the bit.
“Tell me more about them. Please!” Clara whispered.
“Well, this one’s name is Misty. She’s not born and bred Greenlawns stock…..Jim, have you got Misty’s pedigree, I can never remember,” Anne replied.
A chubby black man in a straw hat came out from a nearby building and joined the group.
“ We bought her last year Ma’am, she’s by Mr Landon’s Jim outta Mr Howton’s Juanita from over on the East coast,” he growled in a voice that contrasted strangely with his sunny countenance, and moved on to stand in front of the second Hispanic looking pony slave. “This here’s Sadie, she’s bought in from the mainland and her paperwork says she’s by Macgregor’s Benny from Richmond way outta Mary who was owned by the Samuels family from that ways too. ”
“Thanks Jim. I can never remember the hacking ponies, but this last one’s a racer and Greenlawns born and bred.”
They had moved to stand in front of the black slave, where Anne had Clara note that the hacking ponies, used for prolonged jaunts around the estate were solidly built around the thighs and quite deep chested for endurance. The black girl was an entirely different beast. She was taller and slimmer, her sinews longer and less pronounced than the other two.
“We only keep two for hacking,” Anne explained. “So we thought we’d treat Clara to a real spin. This is Greenlawns Pride, she’s by Big Paul who works in our Hillside plantation in the north of the estate, out of Daphne who’s about to produce again any day now. Daphne’s a wonder, she’s produc ed no less than five fillies and they’ve all fetched good prices. George says he wouldn’t mind seeing what he could get out of her himself! This one actually won the two mile at the Rosebowl meet last year. Climb aboard, Clara and I’ll give you a quick driving lesson .”
Dazed, dazzled and feeling very restless and hot in her constricting clothes next to the naked slaves, Clara watched as Anne jerked the reins down and made the black girl kneel down, lowering the shaft for her to step across and settle herself before she stood up again. Clara found she was sitting on a level with the pony’s waist and when Anne handed her the driving whip, it was plain that the back and buttocks were perfectly placed to take the stiff length of cord coming off the whippy shaft.
“For today, just whip the bits you can see,” Anne suggested. “Tomorrow you can practise getting at the tits and cunt.”
For the first time since the mating shed, Clara found herself in possession of a whip and expected to use it. She studied the gleaming, chocolate brown skin of the back presented to her by Greenlawns Pride – the slave didn’t even have a proper name! Somehow that made Clara melt and moisten – and the de sire to carve some stripes on the anonymous body was irresistible. She gathered the reins in one hand, jerking back slightly and watching as the pony’s head came up in response . It was immediately clear that a pony slave was far more responsive than an ordinary pony and by keeping the reins tight, Cla ra was able to instruct her to stay just where she was.
Once that had been established, Clara worked the whipcord back and forth across the dark and polished skin of the back and buttocks, getting the feel for the range, the weight of the lash and the stiffness of the cord. She managed eight or ten clean sweeps, keeping the cord from tangling with either the arms or the reins which would have lessened the impact of the blows. Greenlawns Pride was obviously a thoroughbred and only stamped one foot at the ninth lash to diffuse the pain. Disappointingly however, her skin showed no trace whatever of the lash but Anne and Isabelle applauded.
“Excellent! Good clean strikes straightaway! I’m most impressed my dear!”
Anne clicked her tongue and whipped her pony up, Isabelle followed
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