Susan Strict
09-18-2009, 04:59 AM
An extract from a new novel by Susan Strict and John Savage, "The Great Ponyboy Race" (http://www.a1adultebooks.com/site.php?id=SusanS&pr=1907&in=200) - a twisted Femdom version of John Savage's bestseller "The Great Ponygirl Race" (http://www.a1adultebooks.com/site.php?id=SusanS&pr=1890&in=200).
A Femdom story of young men in bondage and forced submission for the pleasure of dominant women.
In any era, having land and money grants privileges. Here, in a hidden oasis, the Rich Women play their games, and they are not the games the common folk play. If you are female and rich enough, you may purchase young men – quite against their will, of course – and do with them as you wish. If that includes turning them into ponyboys, forcing them to race against each other like horses, and to pull their Mistresses around in carts, just as real horses do, then so be it. More than the indignity of being turned into ponies, there is the bite of tight cords and the kiss of the whip upon bare flesh to constantly remind them of their status, and to encourage them to run their fastest. Terrible and painful are the punishments handed out by harsh Mistresses to those who falter or fail.
“Harriet, do you have any standard punishment for a male slave who masturbates without permission?” asked Mary.
“Usually I tie him up and push a large vibrator up his backside. That gets them screaming. A week or two wearing a spiked chastity cage helps too. A few times I’ve had them tied up in the yard and let the stable girls do what they want, but I found I had to supervise them. A couple of years ago they damaged a slaveboy so much that he wasn’t worth keeping. The younger girls are always the most sadistic, I’ve found, and have the least idea when to stop without doing real damage.”
Jackal blanched at the possibility of being made available to satisfy the sadistic urges of the stable girls. He had a very good idea of what they were like, although he also knew that not one of them would dare to inflict any visible damage without the permission of their Mistress. With her permission, however, was quite another matter. That would be more than a little frightening.
“You can do some of those things to him later,” Mary mused. “But right now I have something else in mind. Harriet, please tie him down to the bed. I’ll show you how I want him.”
In a few minutes the ties that held Jackal’s arms and wrists together behind him were removed. He was tied face up on the bed. His legs were apart, each of his ankles tied to the end of the bed, one to the lower left corner and one to a point around the middle of the bed. Ropes were tightened around his wrists and then up to the top of the bed. He was spread-eagled, helpless, and terrified of what might be done to him. Certainly it seemed unlikely he would be thrashed or whipped in this position, although anything was possible with Mary. What worried him most was that his genitals were exposed and very vulnerable, and he knew how much Mary liked to cause pain to that part of a man’s anatomy. He wondered vaguely why his right wrist and ankle had not been tied to the far right corner of the bed instead of somewhere near the middle. It would have stretched him out much further, and his previous experience of this type of activity with Harriet and Mary was that they both liked to make a slaveboy feel as uncomfortable as possible. He was about to find out.
Mary surprised even Harriet. That, in itself, was not unusual, but this was so far from the norm that Harriet was not at all sure she had heard Mary’s demand correctly:
“Tie me down the same as he is,” was her order.
Extra ropes were available in the drawer of a dresser. Quickly she was lying on the bed, alongside Jackal, bound in an identical manner. She was in as much discomfort, and just as vulnerable as Jackal, but Mary was not finished.
“Sit on his face,” she instructed, “Make him lick you. And then move across to me and do exactly the same. Exactly. No different.”
She managed to turn her head sideways to look at Harriet. “I’m serious,” she insisted. “Treat me the same way you treat him. Make me lick you.”
Harriet was astonished. It was not at all unusual for her to demand oral attention from her slaveboys when she was in the right mood, and it was not particularly unusual for Mary to provide her with oral attention either. The difference was that the slaveboys were always restrained, always underneath her, and she never bothered with niceties like easing off them to allow them to breathe comfortably from time to time. Of course, she had never actually suffocated any of them completely, but more than one of them had lost consciousness when her approaching climax had become so intense and powerful that she became completely oblivious to the fact that her shuddering, spasming flesh was depriving them of air completely.
“Whatever you do to him,” Mary told her again, “Do to me too. Anything. Do what you like. We’re both yours for tonight.”
“You asked for it,” said Harriet after a short pause. “And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“I know,” confirmed Mary, with just the hint of nervousness in her voice. “We’re yours.”
Instead of shedding her clothes and kneeling astride one of them immediately, Harriet took up her riding crop. Mary gulped, but said nothing. Jackal closed his eyes.
Harriet positioned herself at the end of the bed, and then placed one knee on it between the pair of bound legs so she could lean forward and be within easy striking distance of the targets. She tapped the side of Jackal’s thigh lightly, almost playfully, with the riding crop, and then she brought it down with all her strength across the front of both his thighs, not more than two inches below his genitals. Jackal lived up to his name. He howled.
Again, Harriet tapped the riding crop against flesh, this time on the side of Mary’s thigh, and then came the hard blow. Mary’s hips jerked involuntarily, but no sound came from her.
Harriet raised her eyebrows a little. “My slaves cry when I hit them,” she pointed out, and before her words had time to sink in, she had raised the crop again and brought it down on Mary once more. This time, the blow landed a little higher up, and this time Mary squealed.
“You... you...” she stuttered, trying to form the words “I meant sit on me the same as you’re going to sit on him! And you didn’t do that to him.”
Harriet shrugged. “I’m going to sit on you,” she told Mary, “And I’ll be doing the same to both of you. That’s what you asked for. That’s what you’re going to get.” She turned to Jackal.
“No! Please!” squealed Jackal as Harriet raised the crop. There was a sadistic smile of satisfaction on her lips as she brought it down with considerable force on his genitals. He screamed.
Satisfied, and knowing perfectly well she had not hit him hard enough to do any real damage, Harriet decided that he was making far too much noise about it. As it happened, that fitted very nicely with what she intended to do next anyway. Almost in a single leap, she was on the bed and kneeling with her legs astride Jackal’s face. She descended onto him. “Lick,” she commanded.
Two minutes later, and again with a rapid, fluid and apparently effortless movement, she went from Jackal to Mary.
Jackal lay gasping for air. Although he had not been entirely deprived of the ability to breathe while Harriet was on top of him, she had pressed down heavily on him, constantly changing her position and pressing one way and then the other as she enjoyed the pure physical pleasure of his tongue working at her and the contours of his face pressing underneath her.
For two hours Harriet alternated between the Mary and the equally helpless slaveboy. Whether Mary had realized just how inexhaustible Harriet’s capacity for physical pleasure was, or whether she knew and assumed that Harriet would take it easier on her than she did on the slaveboy, Jackal had no idea. In the event, Jackal could not imagine how anyone could voluntarily agree to undergo such treatment. He was half-smothered repeatedly, bruised, battered, and feeling as though at any moment Harriet’s weight on top of him would break the bones in his face. If he had been the sole recipient of her attention, he thought, then he would have been in very serious trouble indeed. He wondered vaguely how it was that she managed to continue for so long and so energetically without becoming bruised and sore herself.
Finally it was over. Harriet shuddered and convulsed on top of Jackal’s face, not for the first time, and fell back to lie breathless between them on the bed, her arms outstretched. For a long while there was no movement.
Jackal breathed a sigh of relief, and he could hear Mary’s equally relieved sigh from next to him. He did not dare to look in her direction. He knew that, even at this moment, one look, one word, one movement of his that was interpreted by either Harriet or Mary as impertinent or disrespectful would be enough to earn him a severe punishment.
After a while, he could feel Harriet moving a little, but he did not dare look towards her either. She was still lying on her back on his left leg and, he assumed, on Mary’s right leg. Her legs were wide apart, her left thigh across his chest and her foot over his shoulder. The temptation to look at her was almost irresistible, and somehow that sight of her lying relaxed in that position would have been so very different from seeing exactly the same part of her descending onto him.
She was definitely moving. For several terrible seconds, Jackal wondered whether she was easing into position to sit up and start again. A gasp and then a moan from Mary puzzled him at first, until he realized that Harriet had maneuvered herself until she could reach between Mary’s legs without getting up.
What happened next took him completely by surprise.
Harriet’s left hand closed around his erection, she squeezed, and then she began to move her hand up and down.
Mary was moaning, and Jackal could feel Harriet’s movement becoming faster and more vigorous. At the same time, her grip on him tightened and she began to pump him harder. He tensed, and was unable to avoid giving a slight groan.
“Don’t you DARE do it,” warned Harriet.
It was an impossible order. Mary was squealing with the intense arousal, straining against the ropes holding her to the bed, her body convulsing in spasms of a climax. Harriet’s hand on Jackal was a blur of motion.
He did it.
He expected punishment to be swift and painful. She must have known what had happened, just as she must have registered the fact that Mary had just had an orgasm. She reacted to neither. Harriet’s hands continued the motion, just as though nothing had happened.
“Stop! Oh... stop! I just... I’m sorry...”
She did not stop. She did not seem to have heard him. Neither, it seemed, did she hear Mary’s weak cries of “Stop!” Harriet just kept doing exactly has she had been doing before, changing and tightening her grip on Jackal from her whole hand to two strong fingers and her thumb as his erection subsided, but no less vigorous in her efforts. He was soon wailing in protest, although Mary’s half-hearted objections had changed to moans of pleasure once more.
Harriet was tiring, and when Mary once more squealed and convulsed, she stopped. She sat up, slapped Jackal first around the face and then in the genitals, slid off the bed, dressed, and left the room.
It was three hours later that two stable girls came in and released Jackal from the bed, binding his wrists behind his back and returning him to his cell in the stables. He had no idea when anyone released Mary. The last he saw of her that night was still tied naked to the bed, her eyes closed. She appeared to be asleep.
http://www.strictsusan.com/publish/ponyboy300.jpg (http://www.a1adultebooks.com/site.php?id=SusanS&pr=1907&in=200)
A Femdom story of young men in bondage and forced submission for the pleasure of dominant women.
In any era, having land and money grants privileges. Here, in a hidden oasis, the Rich Women play their games, and they are not the games the common folk play. If you are female and rich enough, you may purchase young men – quite against their will, of course – and do with them as you wish. If that includes turning them into ponyboys, forcing them to race against each other like horses, and to pull their Mistresses around in carts, just as real horses do, then so be it. More than the indignity of being turned into ponies, there is the bite of tight cords and the kiss of the whip upon bare flesh to constantly remind them of their status, and to encourage them to run their fastest. Terrible and painful are the punishments handed out by harsh Mistresses to those who falter or fail.
“Harriet, do you have any standard punishment for a male slave who masturbates without permission?” asked Mary.
“Usually I tie him up and push a large vibrator up his backside. That gets them screaming. A week or two wearing a spiked chastity cage helps too. A few times I’ve had them tied up in the yard and let the stable girls do what they want, but I found I had to supervise them. A couple of years ago they damaged a slaveboy so much that he wasn’t worth keeping. The younger girls are always the most sadistic, I’ve found, and have the least idea when to stop without doing real damage.”
Jackal blanched at the possibility of being made available to satisfy the sadistic urges of the stable girls. He had a very good idea of what they were like, although he also knew that not one of them would dare to inflict any visible damage without the permission of their Mistress. With her permission, however, was quite another matter. That would be more than a little frightening.
“You can do some of those things to him later,” Mary mused. “But right now I have something else in mind. Harriet, please tie him down to the bed. I’ll show you how I want him.”
In a few minutes the ties that held Jackal’s arms and wrists together behind him were removed. He was tied face up on the bed. His legs were apart, each of his ankles tied to the end of the bed, one to the lower left corner and one to a point around the middle of the bed. Ropes were tightened around his wrists and then up to the top of the bed. He was spread-eagled, helpless, and terrified of what might be done to him. Certainly it seemed unlikely he would be thrashed or whipped in this position, although anything was possible with Mary. What worried him most was that his genitals were exposed and very vulnerable, and he knew how much Mary liked to cause pain to that part of a man’s anatomy. He wondered vaguely why his right wrist and ankle had not been tied to the far right corner of the bed instead of somewhere near the middle. It would have stretched him out much further, and his previous experience of this type of activity with Harriet and Mary was that they both liked to make a slaveboy feel as uncomfortable as possible. He was about to find out.
Mary surprised even Harriet. That, in itself, was not unusual, but this was so far from the norm that Harriet was not at all sure she had heard Mary’s demand correctly:
“Tie me down the same as he is,” was her order.
Extra ropes were available in the drawer of a dresser. Quickly she was lying on the bed, alongside Jackal, bound in an identical manner. She was in as much discomfort, and just as vulnerable as Jackal, but Mary was not finished.
“Sit on his face,” she instructed, “Make him lick you. And then move across to me and do exactly the same. Exactly. No different.”
She managed to turn her head sideways to look at Harriet. “I’m serious,” she insisted. “Treat me the same way you treat him. Make me lick you.”
Harriet was astonished. It was not at all unusual for her to demand oral attention from her slaveboys when she was in the right mood, and it was not particularly unusual for Mary to provide her with oral attention either. The difference was that the slaveboys were always restrained, always underneath her, and she never bothered with niceties like easing off them to allow them to breathe comfortably from time to time. Of course, she had never actually suffocated any of them completely, but more than one of them had lost consciousness when her approaching climax had become so intense and powerful that she became completely oblivious to the fact that her shuddering, spasming flesh was depriving them of air completely.
“Whatever you do to him,” Mary told her again, “Do to me too. Anything. Do what you like. We’re both yours for tonight.”
“You asked for it,” said Harriet after a short pause. “And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“I know,” confirmed Mary, with just the hint of nervousness in her voice. “We’re yours.”
Instead of shedding her clothes and kneeling astride one of them immediately, Harriet took up her riding crop. Mary gulped, but said nothing. Jackal closed his eyes.
Harriet positioned herself at the end of the bed, and then placed one knee on it between the pair of bound legs so she could lean forward and be within easy striking distance of the targets. She tapped the side of Jackal’s thigh lightly, almost playfully, with the riding crop, and then she brought it down with all her strength across the front of both his thighs, not more than two inches below his genitals. Jackal lived up to his name. He howled.
Again, Harriet tapped the riding crop against flesh, this time on the side of Mary’s thigh, and then came the hard blow. Mary’s hips jerked involuntarily, but no sound came from her.
Harriet raised her eyebrows a little. “My slaves cry when I hit them,” she pointed out, and before her words had time to sink in, she had raised the crop again and brought it down on Mary once more. This time, the blow landed a little higher up, and this time Mary squealed.
“You... you...” she stuttered, trying to form the words “I meant sit on me the same as you’re going to sit on him! And you didn’t do that to him.”
Harriet shrugged. “I’m going to sit on you,” she told Mary, “And I’ll be doing the same to both of you. That’s what you asked for. That’s what you’re going to get.” She turned to Jackal.
“No! Please!” squealed Jackal as Harriet raised the crop. There was a sadistic smile of satisfaction on her lips as she brought it down with considerable force on his genitals. He screamed.
Satisfied, and knowing perfectly well she had not hit him hard enough to do any real damage, Harriet decided that he was making far too much noise about it. As it happened, that fitted very nicely with what she intended to do next anyway. Almost in a single leap, she was on the bed and kneeling with her legs astride Jackal’s face. She descended onto him. “Lick,” she commanded.
Two minutes later, and again with a rapid, fluid and apparently effortless movement, she went from Jackal to Mary.
Jackal lay gasping for air. Although he had not been entirely deprived of the ability to breathe while Harriet was on top of him, she had pressed down heavily on him, constantly changing her position and pressing one way and then the other as she enjoyed the pure physical pleasure of his tongue working at her and the contours of his face pressing underneath her.
For two hours Harriet alternated between the Mary and the equally helpless slaveboy. Whether Mary had realized just how inexhaustible Harriet’s capacity for physical pleasure was, or whether she knew and assumed that Harriet would take it easier on her than she did on the slaveboy, Jackal had no idea. In the event, Jackal could not imagine how anyone could voluntarily agree to undergo such treatment. He was half-smothered repeatedly, bruised, battered, and feeling as though at any moment Harriet’s weight on top of him would break the bones in his face. If he had been the sole recipient of her attention, he thought, then he would have been in very serious trouble indeed. He wondered vaguely how it was that she managed to continue for so long and so energetically without becoming bruised and sore herself.
Finally it was over. Harriet shuddered and convulsed on top of Jackal’s face, not for the first time, and fell back to lie breathless between them on the bed, her arms outstretched. For a long while there was no movement.
Jackal breathed a sigh of relief, and he could hear Mary’s equally relieved sigh from next to him. He did not dare to look in her direction. He knew that, even at this moment, one look, one word, one movement of his that was interpreted by either Harriet or Mary as impertinent or disrespectful would be enough to earn him a severe punishment.
After a while, he could feel Harriet moving a little, but he did not dare look towards her either. She was still lying on her back on his left leg and, he assumed, on Mary’s right leg. Her legs were wide apart, her left thigh across his chest and her foot over his shoulder. The temptation to look at her was almost irresistible, and somehow that sight of her lying relaxed in that position would have been so very different from seeing exactly the same part of her descending onto him.
She was definitely moving. For several terrible seconds, Jackal wondered whether she was easing into position to sit up and start again. A gasp and then a moan from Mary puzzled him at first, until he realized that Harriet had maneuvered herself until she could reach between Mary’s legs without getting up.
What happened next took him completely by surprise.
Harriet’s left hand closed around his erection, she squeezed, and then she began to move her hand up and down.
Mary was moaning, and Jackal could feel Harriet’s movement becoming faster and more vigorous. At the same time, her grip on him tightened and she began to pump him harder. He tensed, and was unable to avoid giving a slight groan.
“Don’t you DARE do it,” warned Harriet.
It was an impossible order. Mary was squealing with the intense arousal, straining against the ropes holding her to the bed, her body convulsing in spasms of a climax. Harriet’s hand on Jackal was a blur of motion.
He did it.
He expected punishment to be swift and painful. She must have known what had happened, just as she must have registered the fact that Mary had just had an orgasm. She reacted to neither. Harriet’s hands continued the motion, just as though nothing had happened.
“Stop! Oh... stop! I just... I’m sorry...”
She did not stop. She did not seem to have heard him. Neither, it seemed, did she hear Mary’s weak cries of “Stop!” Harriet just kept doing exactly has she had been doing before, changing and tightening her grip on Jackal from her whole hand to two strong fingers and her thumb as his erection subsided, but no less vigorous in her efforts. He was soon wailing in protest, although Mary’s half-hearted objections had changed to moans of pleasure once more.
Harriet was tiring, and when Mary once more squealed and convulsed, she stopped. She sat up, slapped Jackal first around the face and then in the genitals, slid off the bed, dressed, and left the room.
It was three hours later that two stable girls came in and released Jackal from the bed, binding his wrists behind his back and returning him to his cell in the stables. He had no idea when anyone released Mary. The last he saw of her that night was still tied naked to the bed, her eyes closed. She appeared to be asleep.
http://www.strictsusan.com/publish/ponyboy300.jpg (http://www.a1adultebooks.com/site.php?id=SusanS&pr=1907&in=200)