© Copyright 2015 - Jackie Rabbit - Used by permission
Storycodes: FM/f; F/f; naked; barn; bridle; harness; boots; cart; bdsm; crop; outdoors; ponygirl; objectifed; punish; con/reluct; X
Part 10: Training the Imperfect Mount
When Beth had finished eating she found herself hitched once again to the cart, but this time by the hand of the well dressed author that she had yet to be introduced to as the editor looked on passively. Her editor had handed the woman the ring of keys that opened all of the barn's doors as Beth looked on, placing them in her outstretched hand in acquiescence to her silent demand for them. To Beth the action seemed ceremonial, like reluctantly handing a teenager the keys to the family car and telling her to be careful and come right back home after the library. The keys in that case implied trust and freedom, and even a certain form of empowerment, but the exact opposite for Beth.
The woman was at least proficient at the task of hitching Beth, letting Beth know that there was even more to this woman than met the eye, as did her earlier words and actions indicating she had the potential for casual brutality, or at the very least instant correction. Both were a contradiction to her hansom features and civilized manor of dress, and Beth was reminded of her driver's snake-like wife back at Grandview. That woman was stunningly beautiful in both appearance and dress, but merciless and sadistic with her whip, practicing a certain affinity for targeting Beth's more tender areas with it.
The editor saw J.M.s proficiency as well, the bridle and cuffs being buckled snugly in a no nonsense kind of way just this side of rough, the crop tucked casually under her left arm as she worked, just like a knights sword at the ready should Beth ponder any resistance. The man knew without a doubt now that this woman wasn't a fictional author, but the real deal, and likely just what both he and Beth needed to get this writing project back on track. It still seemed incredible to him that such an organization as the I.P.R.L. should exist, but less so by the second with the expert handling J.M. was demonstrating with what well could be her next mount.
As the well dressed pair mounted the wagon Beth wondered who this woman was with her talk of ponygirls, competitors, and premium race stock that she has raced against, and what her intentions were toward both her, and HER editor. If the woman were to become a replacement lover in the man's loneliness, what then of her?
Beth's deep thoughts and fears were interrupted by the slap of her reins on her bare shoulders, she knowing what to do by instinct, as well as knowing who held those reins by the firm slap they had made. The wagon surprisingly enough didn't feel all that much heavier with the woman aboard, the wagon itself most of the dead weight she was tasked to pull for her two well dressed passengers.
The perimeter path was rough, (as J.M. noted to the editor as the pair bumped along behind Beth), but despite the woman's rough manor with Beth in the barn earlier she was gentle with her direction until the harnessed ponygirl before them was properly warmed up. At about the one third way point J.M. clucked her cheek and snapped Beth's reins in a precise way, telling her she had better get along and pick up the pace.
Beth responded and broke into a trot, the pair riding in the wagon getting punished by the rough terrain. It was a heavy wagon to move at all, let alone to pull at a trot with two human passengers over the rough ground, but Beth rightly feared the woman behind her more so than the humiliation of being made to perform like a harnessed beast for her, even before the buggy whip cracked in the air just behind her.
In response Beth ran harder to get away from the whip that had as of yet to even touch her bare flesh, even though that was an illogical response as she was hitched to the wagon firmly. Even if Beth were to run herself to exhaustion the wagon would be the same distance behind her, she knew this obviously, but the overwhelming desire to get away from the potential sting of the whip still temporarily overrode her logic as intended.
The editor was impressed, (and told J.M. as much), confessing that he had never driven Beth nearly that hard even while alone in the cart. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the clatter of the wagon's brisk passage over the rough ground, and Beth easily heard his unintended praise. The pace was held constant for the middle third of the perimeter path as Beth was worked harder than ever before in her young life, but then brought back to a trot, and shortly after a rapid walk as J.M. could be heard telling the editor that his mount could pull far in excess of her slight weight.
Beth felt pride at being able to impress this strange and intimidating woman holding her reins for no reason that she could explain. Yes she was harnessed like a naked animal and used for the pure pleasure of a spirited ride in an old wagon by her two passengers, but she had also done so convincingly for the first time since coming to the summer estate.
As Beth was allowed to slow she felt the sweat roll off of her naked body with the wind's diminished flow, her exertions not all that much greater than from a passionate session of fornication with a well moneyed lover, ironically also for the pure physical pleasure of another more so than for herself. Her invigorating run was still a rather poor substitution for the company of a man, her frustrations perhaps an additional motivating factor in her impressive performance.
Beth heard the editor attempt to start a conversation in the cart behind her, but J.M. just cut him off most rudely. "We likely will have much to discuss in private once I have had a chance to read your manuscript Jim." The implication being that Beth was to be left out of that conversation despite it involving her intimately.
"As you wish." was the response Beth heard, but she couldn't believe it. Nobody talked to the editor like that, and since when did he acquiesce to any woman so easily, or for that matter at all? Beth thought that perhaps the two were already lovers, meaning her potential last ditch leverage over the man had been greatly diminished. If that were in fact the case, Beth thought that she herself could be the price of admission to the woman's bed, and just as easily forgotten in the barn until she grew old, the irony of such a situation not lost on her. She knew certain women could be quite spiteful and jealous, she had been on the receiving end of that more than once, and this particular woman had already demonstrated to her in the clearest terms possible that she was not to be taken lightly.
Beth was lead back to the barn at the conclusion of their perimeter run, after she was unhitched with instructions to shower and sleep well. It was an easy order to follow with her rather strenuous workout, but given by the mysterious new woman friend of her editor instead of himself. Beth's stall door would lock on it's own once the heavy door was closed, and she knew to do this from the inside less she be caught with a freedom she knew she wasn't entitled to.
J.M. Smith, celebrated author and three time I.P.R L. grand champion jockey later that night read Beth's account of her time at Grandview, marveling at the perfection of their training regime for which to recruit racing ponygirls from, as well as the sketches Sam had made to document the event. The ponygirls she had raced against wore the same harnesses without identification, but were buxom and blond as well as muscular and tan, and absolutely stunning in the flesh. She had watched those girls intently as they were made to perform, (many times from behind), their pretty jockey brutally efficient with her whip on their exposed and marked bodies, their terrified expressions a stark contrast to their other lovely features.
J.M. had always wondered where that particular woman found such girls, they were young and strong, and if one looked carefully one could see their brief tan lines peeking out from under their dark leather harnesses when they struggled. This, and their reluctance to utter a single word of complaint other than a surprised yelp when the whip struck had always suggested to J.M. that those girls had spent many months at the very least in harness before the races.
It was difficult to train a harnessed woman not to speak even though there were tricks of the trade as it were, but the I.P.R.L. rules were rather specific on this. Vocal emissions emulating any form of speech from any racing mount were grounds for an instant disqualification, and some of the teams had taken to surgery to remove the ponygirl's vocal cords as a precaution. It was rather permanent, and made the women in question useless for most other purposes after their brief racing career was over, but at the same time understandable with the time and effort one puts into training a winning mount. This also kept their complaints down to near zero, as long as the girls recruited to this sport were not missed, and here using convicts that were to be relocated anyway was a stroke of brilliance. Their were other rumors of what happened to some of those teams lovely beasts after their racing career was over, their stunning and mute absence in the general population always a mystery to reputable jockeys like J.M.
J.M. refused to alter her ponygirls like those of some of her competitors, (other than a simple tattoo of ownership to protect her investment), instead relying on training and a strict regimen of silence throughout their training. Her ponygirls could therefore have a post racing life, as she herself did, a portion of any winnings going into a dowry of sorts for when their brief career had run it's course.
It bothered J.M. that the purity her sport was being slowly eroded, most especially by that one particular opportunistic young woman. It would be one thing if that woman had trained her ponygirls up personally, but it was apparent now that she merely stole the fruits of another's labor, just as she stole the girls themselves after their debt to society had been paid. Many teams likely recruited ponygirls in deceptive manners that she might not have agreed with, but she now knew about this one and was honor bound to do something about it for the good of the sport. Revealing that woman's source of abducted racing stock would just be icing on the proverbial cake J.M. thought. The only question was how to do so discreetly without harming her own interests, nor those of the many active members of the I.P.R.L. She knew Beth was the likely key, but would the editor lend her out for such a purpose?
Sleep wouldn't come easily that night, but a renewed sense of commitment from J.M. along with a fantastic plan befitting a woman with intellect and experiences such as the author brought to the table did...
In the morning J.M. told the editor in private that she would bring Beth her breakfast, after the pair ate together in the company of the hired help, there being of course an ulterior motive to her apparent charity. Along with a plate of food fit for two was the editor's own copy of J.M.'s book, she not only intending to bulk Beth up with the increased diet, but give her food for thought as well about what she could accomplish in J.M.'s possession. If her true intention was to save the girls of Grandview from their inhumane treatment as her manuscript suggested, would she be so committed as to endure a much more harsh version of their treatment under her training to achieve her goals?
J.M. knew it could be indicative of Beth's character one way or the other. She could either prove herself worthy of J.M.'s respect and commitment, or become nothing more than a beast of burden for the editor, and of course a failed author. That being the case an anonymous tip to the authorities could put Beth the failed author back where she belonged at Grandview, she also revealing the whereabouts of other Grandview girls that should be back out in society instead of still in a harness. That solution lacked the suitableness she was seeking, and of course could backfire depending who was in on this little conspiracy. Among her personal racing fans was the governor himself who was known by her to be a ponygirl racing purist, so she was secure in the knowledge that any repercussions wouldn't reach her directly, but those around her could be made to suffer depending on how high this conspiracy reached. It was a certainty that the sadistic jockey had friends of her own in high places, there being no other likely way she could have access to the girls without it post Grandview.
J.M. unlocked the outer door with her set of keys, Beth stepping to her feet in respect already knowing who's light footfalls were visiting her. The massive breakfast plate was a surprise, as was the book under J.M.'s arm, Beth not bothering to cover herself in the dressed woman's presence this time, but continuing to stand at attention. At least this time the woman was dressed casually, Beth thought.
"I have read your words, it only seems fitting that you be able to read mine. It sees however that we have a common foe, and similar goals, and the only question I have for you is if you have the intestinal fortitude to do something about it, rather than just write about it. Don't speak your answer though, that part of your training seems spot on, but I can also tell that you haven't been properly broken yet. As tough as you may think you are mentally, I have many years of experience with this, and one on one with me in the practice compound you would become a mindless ponygirl in mere hours. That would make what else I propose actually easier on you in the long run, but that is a decision I intend to leave up to you."
"Author to author, or even woman to woman, I admire your courage up until now. Here is what I offer in exchange for your willing cooperation..."
To Beth it seemed both too good to be true, and too horrible to be true at the same time. Her book would be profound, and expose a criminal conspiracy to shake the nation. The price was pretty steep though, with the remote possibility that she still could find herself back at Grandview to answer for her escape if things went very poorly. In the end the chance at vengeance and the ability to right a societal wrong outweighed those considerations, the mysterious author and professional ponygirl jockey J.M. Smith promising Beth she would not be subjected to anything J.M. hadn't been herself, confiding in the young fellow author that she had herself been a ponygirl once.
Beth would have time to read J.M.'s book now in her own hands to see what she could potentially be getting herself into before she committed, but she needed to do something, J.M.'s potential training more in keeping with her overall intentions of harsh treatment to spur her creative juices to write. The rest of the story was out there, (insane as it was), all she had to do was live it, and then survive to tell it later, J.M. even offering her help as an uncredited ghost writer if necessary. Beth thought J.M.'s plan just a little to subtle, but it was her community, and she knew there would need to be an unbreakable trust between the two women for this to work.
Beth handed J.M.'s book back to her after looking at the cover closely, disappointment clearly on her face as the two made eye contact, and sorrow as well at the same time for what would befall the petite caged woman before her once the authorities were notified as to her location.
"I'll do it ma'am" Beth told a shocked J.M. in clear violation of her no speaking order, her unused voice scratchy. "I don't wish to read your book beforehand either, only because I don't want to know any more than what any other racing ponygirl would beforehand. I already have some idea what to expect, but I doubt that you had such a book to read beforehand, so neither should I. Since I already have earned my first ten lashes with you for speaking out of turn, might I ask a final question or two ma'am, I wishing to get the most for the price I am about to pay as it were?"
"Yes, of course," the now smiling J.M. said.
"Who is to race me, and if you were to break me properly how long until I could be unbroken?"
"I have my own ponygirls to compete with, and Jim is too fat to make a winning jockey for any ponygirl, most especially a tiny one like yourself. We will find one suitable to run you when the time comes, but you will be branded as the property of my stable so our friend and certain others will know to whom you belong and not attempt to steal you away from me. Breaking you simply means that you will respond to any command without first thinking about it, it can be a little rough depending on the mount in question, but will make your overall training easier on both of us. You're a smart girl, six months after your last race you will be back to normal, mostly, the details obviously different ponygirl to ponygirl."
"Is this to be ten lashes for speaking out of turn, or twenty my petite little ponygirl for the two occurrences?" J.M. asked with a broad smile on her hansom face, despite the promise of what was to come, or possibly because of it.
"I will leave that up to you ma'am."...
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story continues in The Investigative Reporter 11: Contract Negotiations