GOOD BREEDING (9 page)

“To hell with manners, girl! I’ll have the doxies instead!” he roared with laughter and turned to the guests. “Isabelle! Good to see you! Archie keeping you well beaten and that cunny of yours nice and tight?”

“The answer to the first is ‘yes’. The answer to the second you will doubtless
discover for yourself later on,” Isabelle said throatily.

George didn’t reply except to reach out and grip her breast as well. For a moment, Clara saw their eyes lock and
a sort of challenge seemed to pass between them. But then George was moving towards her.

“And this is the lovely Clara, is it, by Jove?”

He gripped her chin between thumb and forefinger and Clara could feel his steely strength in his fingers.

He pushed her back a little, into the light from the doorway.

“By God, she is a beauty isn’t she?” he murmured. “Archie told me you’d ridden a double up here, girl.”

Clara nodded.

“Then show me
.”

There was no mistaking his meaning and for the umpteenth time that day she began to gather her skirts up. It was all very flattering but
why oh why would nothing else do for men but that they must fiddle
with their women all the time? s
he wondered as George squatted down in front of her.

“A fine pair of legs, naturally well sinewed and a good shape to boot,” he murmured almost to himself as she gathered armfuls of rustling petticoats up and parted her legs. “They’ve felt the whip alright…….” Clara felt his hard fingers trace the lingering m
arks of her various recent
floggings and shivered as they neared her cunt.

“Ah! Yes, Adam’s orders fully carried out. That is one very sore little cunny, I’ll be bound!”

In spite of his words he
had absolutely no compunction about
sticking two of his thick, calloused fingers straight up into it. Clara gasped and wi
nced at the abrupt penetration but was immediately aware that he had had no problem in getting into her. He stood up and put his face close to hers.

“Sore but still eager. That’s good.”

She leaned back against the door jamb while he sampled her cunt some more before being disturbed by the two black men dragging the next new slave in through the door on the other side of the shed. Each man had
hold of
an arm but she was screaming in some strange language and putting up quite a fight.

George grinned at them as he withdrew his fingers and wiped them on his breeches.

“Work calls, girls! Anne, take them for a spin as we planned and I’ll see you at the house later.
You’ll oblige me by wearing the black and gold for dinner.
” He turned and plunged back into the dim interior.

“We thought it might be pleasant to take a turn around the estate on such a fine afternoon. And a carriage will be a welcome relief for you both!” Anne said with a smile as they left the shed and heard another shriek behind them. “Come this way.”

She led them a little further from the house and they found the
mselves in another yard, s
tanding in the middle of which were three Surreys, lightweight, two wheeled traps and between each carriage’s shafts stood a human pony.

Clara stop
ped and stared in disbelief. Eve
n after her months on the island, nothing could have prepared her for the sight of naked slavegirls in full pony harness.

They stood patiently in the sun, their wrists shackled to the shafts of their carriages. One was pure black, her skin oiled and shining in the bright sun, the other two looked as though they might be Hispanic/Indian half breeds. As she watched one champed softly on her bit and the black pony shifted her weight onto one leg, cocking her graceful hips as she rested one leg.

Clara started as she felt a touch on her arm. It was Anne Presteign.

“Are they not beautiful? Come and take a closer look, George and I are very proud of our stable, we won a rosette at the Rosebowl meeting last year you know.”

Gently but firmly, Clara was propelled forwards.

She had to admit that the three ponies were indeed beautiful as she neared them. They simply exuded sex, cruelty, submission
and all those thing
s
she had come to love about the island.

From the crowns of their heads
, where the straps of their bridles met, two peacock feathers nodded in the slight breeze. One strap ran back to the nape of the neck while two others descended the cheeks and ended in large steel rings to which a leather covered bit was attached. Running from the backs of the rings were more straps which
had buckles on them, allowing the bridle to be tightly fitted so that the bit sat snugly a
t the back of the mouth. T
hese straps
ran round the back of the head and met the vertical one at the nape. Where all three joined, there was a hole to allow, in the case of the Hispanic slaves, a thick black pony tail to trail prettily onto the
upper
back.
Each girl’s neck was encased in a thick
,
black leather collar with large silver rings at back and front.

The ponies’ breasts were oddly, but v
ery attractively displayed, Clara thought. Another
narrow
leather strap ran round the back of each slave and was buckled tight, but at the front it swept under the breasts and widened just a little so that each breast was lifted up enough to give it a most appealing forward thrust. The whole contrivance was steadied by two thin straps running up from one point between the breasts and over the shoulders
to join the strap across the back
.

As Clara walked around to stand in front of one pony she saw that their nipples were pierced and tiny bells had been attached to the rings and the same arrangement was repeated at the navel. But it was at the groin area that Clara got an erotic shock to her belly quite as powerful as taking a whip strike there. Each cunt was split by a s
lender leather strap that ran
between the lips. It was dragged up hard against the pubic bone making the lips very prominent and pushing them against the thighs. They were also pierced and ringed, Clara noted with a shiver of excitement. Just above the labial cleft the strap divided into two and curved gracefully up to each hip where each was buckled tight to another strap that ran – Anne tugged on the slave’s rein so that she turned slightly and Clara could see – down into the buttock crease and from the anus a tail of real horsehair curved proudly out and down.
And carved into the silk smooth flesh of the right buttock was the italicised G brand for Greenlawns.

“Magnificent aren’t they?” Anne asked.

Clara could only nod; her corset suddenly felt suffocatingly tight.

Anne tapped the back of the pony’s thigh with her hand.

“Show your hoof, Misty,” she ordered and the slave raised a foot behind her. Clara saw she had pretty little slippers of soft leather on with slender wedge heels and under the ball of the foot was a delicate, dainty iron horseshoe.

“
They’re plugged front and rear, like you were today.
The two straps down her arse join under the tail to keep it raised. The strapping under the breasts is to raise them for the whip,” Anne told her calmly. “You’ll note the guards on the forearms and upper arms.”

Clara did note the leather worked wit
h the italicised G again
.

“They’re to take the lash when you whip their breasts or crotch from behind. George and I think the bruises on the arms look unsightly.”

Clara felt her heart pound as she surveyed the strapped and harnessed, pierced and branded vision before her. It felt to her as if everything she had experienced up to that moment on the island had been leading up to 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 and then Clara slackened off the reins and laid two hard lashes across her pony’s quivering bottom. Immediately she leaned forwards and the trap began to rumble after the others.
Clara nearly laughed aloud with sheer delight as she struck out again, lashing the deliciously wobbling buttocks and sending the pony into an exaggerated trot, the knees lifting abnormally high; a far more decorative and showy step than the more prosaic one of the hacking ponies.

Clara surged ahead before she fully realised what was happening and was about to rein back when Anne called after her to; ‘Run on, girl! Stop and wait for us at the ford!”

Clara
was only too happy to comply and shouting encouragement while she tried a few breast shots and got them on target, she propelled Greenlawns Pride into a full run. It was simply the most exhilarating experience of her life. The Surrey rumbled and shook behind the flying heels of the pony. Little puffs of dust rose as her feet pounded the dry earth and at last, as Clara worked the whip tirelessly across her and around her, her skin did begin to show dark red lines where she had been flogged. It came as a real disappointment when the track began to slope downwards and she had to rein the girl in and then at the bottom under the shade of several large trees
there
was a ford. Clara hauled back on the reins until the pony’s head was angled sharply up and her feet were skidding as she fought against the trap’s momentum but it was too late and the ensemble splashed into the water before it came to a halt. A sheet of refreshingly icy water was thrown up over Clara and even the pony audibly gasped as her legs churned up a froth that drenched her to her breasts.
Once stopped, the pony just stood, chest heaving, sweat and water dripping off her.