Blonde Fury II (7 page)

Wilbur was having his usual frugal breakfast at his desk and watching his girls take their usual ration of thirty lashes each on the monitor screens mounted on the wall opposite when one flagged up an incoming call. He took the call and Henry’s rather worried face appeared.

“Mr Floyd, I think we may have a problem, Sir,” he said as soon as he saw Wilbur.

Wilbur put down his orange juice and sat forward, steepling his hands under his chin.

“We’ve had someone asking round about White Lightning
– or the girl she used to be I mean
.”

“Nothing new there. You’re paid to put them off.”

“Yeah, hoods and low-lifes looking for their whores and mules. We can handle them. But this is different.”

“Go on.”

“I had to track back from who was doing the asking to find who was paying to have the questions asked
, that alone bothered me – it ain’t normal
. Had to lean on a couple too. But it goes back to a P
.
I.”

Wilbur snorted and relaxed.

“No, Sir. We know this one. He’s expensive, very careful and very discreet. The rich guys use him to keep an eye on other rich guys.” A thought seemed to strike him and he added, “If you don’t mind my saying, Sir”

Wilbur waved the apology away, he never used local P
.
I
.
s for anything.

“Ok. Keep me informed,” he said and cut Henry off.

Damnation! His best ever pony! But then of course that was why she was being looked for, a girl of that calibre wouldn’t be just a Jane Doe, someone would want her. But all the signs when Henry picked her up had seemed to point to her being just a
n ordinary
girl
on the run
.

It wasn’t the ranch and the pony girls being exposed that bothered him, the current climate was getting much more permissive and tolerant of the sport. That would blow over. But the last thing he needed for a lot of other projects was big government agencies sticking their noses into his affairs. He was especially anxious to avoid the IRS.

There was only one thing to do.
He didn’t want to but this was no time for sentiment.

It was mid morning on race day before her groom came for Sophie to tack her up for her first race. Her grooming was a bit more thorough than on a normal day. He scrubbed her down in the shower
using the
sponge mounted on a broom handle as usual, but
with more than normal diligence. He made her part her legs and if he noticed the crusted sperm on and about her groin he made no comment. When he turned the shower off he used the hose to douche her
and she felt cool and relaxed inside as he dried her hair off and brushed it through before tying it into a tight ponytail.
Then he coated her
body in
oil. Sophie loved this part, not only because a man’s hands ran over and into every feminine crevice and fold of her body, but also because she loved how it made her gleam. When he was finished and she was feeling keen to get on, h
e tapped her cheeks and she obediently opened her mouth to receive her bit and he gave her a moment or two to champ on it and get comfortable. Then he lifted the web of leather strapping that was her bridle over her head and sorted it until he could buckle it under her chin and settle the straps that ran from her nose down over her cheeks and joined her bit rings, which also supported her reins. Once the
rings had been clipped to the bit and the
straps over her head were untwisted and the buckle at her chin tested again for a snug fit, the plumes in the red and gold of the ranch were added at the crown of her head and her blinkers were clipped on. Then her stable collar was removed and her racing collar was buckled on. This one was in quilted leather that was soft to the skin but which had a hard core that kept her head raised and made it almost impossible for her to turn
it
as it made it uncomfortable. Sophie liked it
, it was pleasantly controlling and s
he knew from the admiring noises the men made when she was paraded that they liked her in harness; and that meant plenty of sex.

She raised her feet behind her, one at a time to have her boots laced on. They were low wedged heels, safe enough to run in at the speeds she was capable of when pulling a sulky.
And then finally it was time for her favourite part of the process. The groom tapped the undersides of her breasts.

“Come on, girl. Present!” he said.

Immediately she thrust her chest out proudly and saw his appreciative smile as he reached for her nipples, unscrewed the balls on the barbells and pulled them out. She couldn’t help shivering with pleasure as she felt his fingers touch her sensitive flesh and he tutted but didn’t smack her. Instead he took up
a
fine gol
d chain and fed one end
through the holes in the nipples, then
looped it back,
pulled it fairly tight and clipped it to itself
so that her breasts were subject to gentle pressure but not compression. Sophie found it just as comfortable as any sports bra she had ever worn.

The rig she was to pull
; just a plain
, unpadded
bench between two, large, lightweight
,
alloy wheels, with two shafts projecting forwards was waiting in the y
ard. She was backed between the shafts
and the groom lifted them
and fastened her wrists
to them. Then he loo
ped her reins over a hook beside the door to her stall and left her. Immediately she shifted her weight onto one leg and relaxed the other, cocking her hips as she did so. Ahead of her she could see a coloured girl – one of her stablemates, in exactly the same pose. The yard was quiet at the moment – even the whipping gibbet hadn’t been used that morning but then tw
o drivers came through the gap at
the
corner of the stableyard
that led to the main house. They were dressed in the stable colours of red and gold as well and were slightly built men, but wiry. Sophie knew that they could wield the whip as hard as necessary and scraped a foot and champed her bit, like her stablemate
, as the men approached. The ponies
were keen to do what they were there for.

Sophie’s driver patted her flank and looked her over critically
while he continued to chat to his companion. Sophie paid no attention to the words, they were not for her. She paid attention to his hands though. They ran knowledgeably over her flanks, her stomach and her thighs. He wasn’t bothered about her breasts or her sex – yet. Maybe later. For now he
was assessing his mount and his mount
was appreciative of the knowledge she felt in those hands – where they kneaded and where they stroked. She could feel
his
strong fingers pressing her muscles and knew she was in capable hands. Her impression was confirmed when he climbed aboard and she felt his weight shift until he was comfortable and his feet were settled on the foot
rail. Then he tightened her reins and gently turned her head left and right, checking she had been tacked up properly and testing her responsiveness
, some inexperienced drivers were in too much of a hurry to get to the whip
.
But f
inally
, when he was good and ready,
he took up the lash and she
heard
it
being removed from its holder and at last felt a gentle sting across her shoulders. She and her stablemate leaned forwards and in a clattering of shoes on cobbles
, grinding of metal wheels on stone
and tongue clicks from the drivers
, the two ponies moved out.

They were driven to the paddock past rows of massive horseboxes from stables all over the country and Sophie caught sight of packed car parks too. This was the biggest race she had ever been competed in and when they did finally reach the paddock, her impression was confirmed. There were about twenty rigs going in her event and the paddock wa
s full of
waving plumes in a kaleidoscope of colours and what looked like acres of gleaming, naked girlflesh. A compère’s voice was booming over a PA as her driver took her on a circuit that went close to the crowd so that bets could be placed. She appreciated her blinkers at times like this. They allowed her to concentrate on the coming race, clear her mind of any thoughts about the previous night’s pleasures and the possible pleasures to come. She focussed on the joy of running naked and the pleasure of winning
instead.

There seemed to be an eternity of milling about and Sophie could definitely get the scent of arousal as well as body oil from the ponies around her. This was what they all lived for. She reared her head and tugged at the bit impatiently until at last she was urged forwards to the tape. Beside her she could hear the other ponies snorting and stamping in excitement.

Then the pistol went off and the air around Sophie exploded into a cacophony of whips smacking, men crying out as they urged their ponies into a gallop and the crowd baying as the girls surged forwards under the lashes. At first she was intimidated by the sheer number of ponies and rigs around her but soon, once the initial flurry of stinging lashes across her upper back had subsided and she was feeling her legs relax as they stretched into their customary gait, Sophie realised that she was comfortably placed with only four or five in front of her.
Her instinct was to go for the lead. She knew she didn’t have a kick finish, she relied on her long legs eating up the ground easily over the majority of the race, leaving the others with too much to do to catch her at the end. She tucked her chin in and accelerated into the first turn as the track with it
s
white
railings
curved away from the stand to the left. Immediately she felt her reins tug back and her bit press back against her teeth and the corners of her mouth. In addition she caught three stinging lashes across the fronts of her thighs from the whipcord of the driving whip. They were hard, smacking lashes which made her twist her head in protest but she got the message. She was to remain where she was.

To her dismay as they rounded the bend into the back straight, from behind he
r
right blinker two more ponies appeared, running hard but keeping their shape well. They eased past her along the straight, their drivers’ whips lacing the air above them and the wheel spokes blurring.

Sophie pulled again at her reins and again was pulled back by a hard hand on the reins and another volley of lashes across her thighs.
As they took the corner into the home straight, yet another rig went past. And then suddenly with the crowd noise beating against her ears as they went past the stand, Sophie found herself in the pack. She was running close to the rails and now there were ten or more rigs on her right and she could no longer even see where the leaders were.

This was not where she was used to running. She liked the freedom of the air on her body as she ran; here she was hemmed in and the air was thick with the smell of sweat and oil. She began to panic, she tossed her head and tried to veer away from the fence. Immediately she got a strong downward tug on the reins that made her tuck her chin in and she found she was looking at her own breasts, quivering and rippling as she ran but not swinging. And instead of the lash being plied across her thighs, it merely touched her back lightly with the point of the shaft, not the stinging whipcord that was attached to it. She felt herself calm down as the driver
was telling her that
he knew what she was feeling. She was being told to ignore the rest of the field and she kept her g
aze fixed downwards as they
completed a second lap. Of course she never knew how many laps a race consisted of – it was her driver’s business not hers.

As they entered the third lap, the pressure on the reins eased and the whip stung her middle back.
She picked up her pace and gained on the rig ahead, then she felt the right rein tug and got another three hard lashes to her back. She was being let off the leash and jumped at the chance. She overtook the rig she had been following and saw two more ahead of her with space between them. She went for it and got more whip on her back and an encouraging cry from her driver. He and she were at one again. With a brief increase in noise from either side
, both ponies were gasping and slathering,
she sped through the gap between them and could see the leaders spread out before her. The reins tightened again and she was steadied
round the bend
into the back straight. This time she obeyed and
then
in response to the whip as they thundered down the straight she began to creep up on the next few rigs. She was kept behind them on the turn but unleashed once more as they came into the home straight
and
was stretching her legs past them as they got
to
the bell.

Behind her she heard her driver yell at her and felt the lash criss cross her buttocks and back time and again. The pressure on the reins eased altogether and she w
as free. Her legs felt fresh but
for the first time she broke
into a sweat as she easily passed
a pony whose saliva was hanging in trails from her mouth and bedewing her breasts as she fa
ded badly in
the last lap. Sophie
was steered back into the railings again until the back straight
lay
ahead of them and again the whip was played on her back. Joyfully Sophie accelerated once more, proud of how easily it came to her and now, as they neared the final turn she was pulled away from the rails again and they flashed past another rig. The whip was constant now, not hard but demanding
that
she keep giving her best. Sophie ducked her head and gulped in breath as she pumped her legs that
now
just began to register some tiredness
. Sweat began to run into her eyes and she blinked it away and shook her head, rattling her bit, then suddenly she was tugged right again and then straightened. She managed to look up and saw she was drawing alongside a rig on the rails and that ahead there was nothing but the tape at the end of the home straight. She felt saliva begin to drip from her mouth as fatigue began to set in but it couldn’t stop her now. Behind her she heard her driver yelling her on as he worked the lash on her burning back and buttocks and she found that she still had more in the tank and accelerated again.