those terraces
in a storm.
A sharp tug to the left on the reins, the sensation at my
mouth spreading down my body, answered by the inevitable
sting of the whip on my back. She didn't have to yell anything
to me. The whip seemed to speak in her voice. "Enough sightseeing, asshole," it seemed to say, "get those knees up. Now!"
And I did. I stopped seeing anything that I didn't have
to see just a bit of path, a slice of sky, a flare of sun refracting through the sweat dripping into my eyes. Just enough to
know what came next and how not to lose my footing. I performed for her, following her hands at the reins, at the whip. I
tossed my head, wanting to show her how good I was at this.
I lost myself in the thunder of the wheels and my feet and
heart, and the occasional lightning crack of the whip.
But now I was beginning to get tired; I was sure Annie
could tell, too. I could feel my muscles start to tremble but
she wouldn't let up. She was using the whip more sparingly,
but only because I wasn't giving her reason to use it more.
I was aware of every muscle-or perhaps just the ones I
needed, the belly muscles to hold me up straight, and the
ones in my legs, my ass, to keep my knees rising as elegantly
as I could and my feet falling as squarely. No more showing
off and head tossing. Just-silently-doing it. No matter how
I looked. I knew I was drooling all over the bit-I had to in
order to open my mouth widely, to keep breathing deeply and
evenly enough.
My god, would she ever stop? I experimented with a
slightly slower trot and she flicked me lightly against the ass. I sped back up immediately. Okay, sorry, I'm convinced.
Yes, totally.
Don't waste energy hoping to stop. Simpler merely to
resign myself to it-we'll do this for the rest of our lives,
I thought. It's not interesting and it's not worrisome. It's just
what I have to do. Flawlessly. Elegantly. And there was nothing now but the pull of her reins at my mouth and the rhythm
of my trot and a dreamlike haze of sun and exhaustion.
So I hadn't even noticed that we'd circled back to the
corral. I was shocked to hear her "whoa" and to feel her reining me in. I tried to stop smartly, next to the fence, but it
came out a bit ragged, and I realized that I was trembling all
over with exhaustion and dripping with sweat. She took off
the harness and bridle, but left on the tail. And she rubbed
me down hard with a towel-I was afraid I'd get chills, but
I was starting to feel better. I closed my eyes for a moment. It
would feel good just to lie down in the sun and sleep....
The hard slap against my flank brought me back to consciousness-I opened my eyes. She had her belt unbuckled
and her fly unzipped. Uh-oh. How long had I been dozing on
my feet? I got down on my knees as she rolled her jeans down
over sharp little hipbones, a small cunt covered with silky
black hair. An eager, swollen clit, right up front. I focused
on her salty excited smell. I'm in for it, I thought. I'm going
to be punished terribly for not realizing that she would want
to be eaten. She was dripping onto my chin, as I carefully
licked her out. I wondered if she was thinking about the ride
or anticipating the punishment to come. My mouth, my jaws,
were trembling, it felt as if all my muscles were going to give
in to massive exhaustion, and when she came jabbing her pelvis forward in several sharp thrusts-I finally let myself
collapse at her feet.
She gave me about five minutes, and then she kicked me to a
standing position so that she could take the tail out, tossing it
into a basket, I guessed for an assistant to deal with. She took
my leash out of her pocket, reattaching it to my collar.
"You'll get down on your knees when we go into the
house," she said.
The good news, she told Mr. Constant, was that I had some
talent as a pony. It had taken me a while to find my stride, she
added, but she knew how to get to it now, and we could work
on that. Yes,
in a storm.
A sharp tug to the left on the reins, the sensation at my
mouth spreading down my body, answered by the inevitable
sting of the whip on my back. She didn't have to yell anything
to me. The whip seemed to speak in her voice. "Enough sightseeing, asshole," it seemed to say, "get those knees up. Now!"
And I did. I stopped seeing anything that I didn't have
to see just a bit of path, a slice of sky, a flare of sun refracting through the sweat dripping into my eyes. Just enough to
know what came next and how not to lose my footing. I performed for her, following her hands at the reins, at the whip. I
tossed my head, wanting to show her how good I was at this.
I lost myself in the thunder of the wheels and my feet and
heart, and the occasional lightning crack of the whip.
But now I was beginning to get tired; I was sure Annie
could tell, too. I could feel my muscles start to tremble but
she wouldn't let up. She was using the whip more sparingly,
but only because I wasn't giving her reason to use it more.
I was aware of every muscle-or perhaps just the ones I
needed, the belly muscles to hold me up straight, and the
ones in my legs, my ass, to keep my knees rising as elegantly
as I could and my feet falling as squarely. No more showing
off and head tossing. Just-silently-doing it. No matter how
I looked. I knew I was drooling all over the bit-I had to in
order to open my mouth widely, to keep breathing deeply and
evenly enough.
My god, would she ever stop? I experimented with a
slightly slower trot and she flicked me lightly against the ass. I sped back up immediately. Okay, sorry, I'm convinced.
Yes, totally.
Don't waste energy hoping to stop. Simpler merely to
resign myself to it-we'll do this for the rest of our lives,
I thought. It's not interesting and it's not worrisome. It's just
what I have to do. Flawlessly. Elegantly. And there was nothing now but the pull of her reins at my mouth and the rhythm
of my trot and a dreamlike haze of sun and exhaustion.
So I hadn't even noticed that we'd circled back to the
corral. I was shocked to hear her "whoa" and to feel her reining me in. I tried to stop smartly, next to the fence, but it
came out a bit ragged, and I realized that I was trembling all
over with exhaustion and dripping with sweat. She took off
the harness and bridle, but left on the tail. And she rubbed
me down hard with a towel-I was afraid I'd get chills, but
I was starting to feel better. I closed my eyes for a moment. It
would feel good just to lie down in the sun and sleep....
The hard slap against my flank brought me back to consciousness-I opened my eyes. She had her belt unbuckled
and her fly unzipped. Uh-oh. How long had I been dozing on
my feet? I got down on my knees as she rolled her jeans down
over sharp little hipbones, a small cunt covered with silky
black hair. An eager, swollen clit, right up front. I focused
on her salty excited smell. I'm in for it, I thought. I'm going
to be punished terribly for not realizing that she would want
to be eaten. She was dripping onto my chin, as I carefully
licked her out. I wondered if she was thinking about the ride
or anticipating the punishment to come. My mouth, my jaws,
were trembling, it felt as if all my muscles were going to give
in to massive exhaustion, and when she came jabbing her pelvis forward in several sharp thrusts-I finally let myself
collapse at her feet.
She gave me about five minutes, and then she kicked me to a
standing position so that she could take the tail out, tossing it
into a basket, I guessed for an assistant to deal with. She took
my leash out of her pocket, reattaching it to my collar.
"You'll get down on your knees when we go into the
house," she said.
The good news, she told Mr. Constant, was that I had some
talent as a pony. It had taken me a while to find my stride, she
added, but she knew how to get to it now, and we could work
on that. Yes,
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