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Storycodes: Solo-F; F/f+; bond; susp; lycra; harness; gag; ponygirls; cart; crop; outdoors; discovered; cons; X
The Farm 1: Afternoon at the Farm
I vaulted the wall and dropped into the cover of the high corn. All those long hours in the gym had kept me limber as well and given me a hard body any athlete would have envied.
Keeping low I started to press my way through the corn, part of me enjoying the way it brushed roughly against my bare midriff and the long legs that trailed below the hem of my tight denim shorts. But I was on a mission and I could let nothing put me off my goal.
Who am I ? Well, I have come looking for my friend. One day she was working down at the kennels, the next she was gone. But I asked around, had a chat with that nice chap Max down at the pet shop and finally I heard this place mentioned. The Farm they call it, and word has it there is fun to be had here, and if my friend is here I want in too.
I crept slowly through the corn, peeking over the top of the waving stalks occasionally to keep some sense of where I was going. The breeze stirred the corn and I froze as I sensed rather than heard a faint sound at the very edge of hearing. Straining my ears I could hear what might have been a faint whimpering. Rising to my knees I peered about, but the only thing I could see was a scarecrow of ragged clothes.
My hand was at my lips and I heard my own sharp intake of my own breath as I noticed two very human feet protruding en-point from beneath the ragged tweed trousers. Their toes just barely touched the ground, and from behind the bland white mask I could hear very faint whimpering sounds.
Fingers trembling I reached out to the scarecrow and gently unbuttoned the tattered coat. The whimpering ceased the moment the occupant of the coat felt my touch, and as it fell open I whistled softly as I took in the impressive female breasts and the slender body pulled tight by the agonisingly tight pose she was forced to endure.
Her pale naked flesh shivered as I reached out and touched a nipple in spite of myself. It rose immediately at my touch and I heard a faint gasp from behind the mask. I felt myself lick my lips as I cupped the breast in my hand and caressed the nipple roughly with my thumb. This time the gasp became a soft moan.
Still caressing the rock hard nipple I reached out my other hand and lifted the mask from her face. Big brown eyes were revealed and I smiled as they looked deep into the smiling blueness of my own eyes. Confusion danced across her eyes as she was clearly expecting someone else’s caress.
“Hi there” I said softly, “It looks like what I hear about this place is true”
She started to make desperately inarticulate sounds, and for the first time I noticed the huge ball-gag that bulged between her lips.
Leaving alone her breast I reached out and pressed back the shoulders of her jacket to reveal a rough pole across her shoulders to which her crucified arms were tightly roped.
“My my but you are well fastened” I said, “What does a girl have to do to get treated like this round here ?”
There were more garbled sounds, and when one of my fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her trousers and caressed her intimately they became even more incoherent.
When her eyes were suddenly wide, staring over my shoulder I whirled and found that while I had been occupied a cart had pulled up quietly behind us and we were no longer alone.
It was a cart like no other I had ever seen. Two magnificent specimens of womanhood stood between the shafts, one before the other. The one at the front was a tiny little thing barely over 5ft tall with a tight body and quite the loveliest face I had seen in years. As she turned her head to look at me hazel eyes sparkled either side of the cutest little turned up nose you can imagine.
Every inch of her body was covered by a tight black lycra catsuit that hugged every curve like a second skin, and over that a wicked harness of black leather and gleaming chrome buckles kept her tightly between the shafts.
She gave her head a shake and for the first time I noticed the mane of blonde hair that tumbled down her back from the top of a black leather bridle that kept her head it’s prisoner. Somewhere on her harness I heard the tinkle of tiny bells as that mane of glorious hair waved at me and I felt a pang of lust as I saw it’s very ends caress a tight little arse. An arse I wanted to be caressing myself. Ideally in private with both of my hands.
As she watched me my eyes wandered to the figure that stood behind her in the shafts. Identically sheathed in black lycra her companion was a mighty figure of womanhood. She stood six inches taller than her companion before her, and every time she shifted her weight I could hear the leather of her harness creaking gently.
Her harness was tighter then her companions, stricter in it’s confinement. Heavy buckles held her to the shafts of the wagon while her companion seemed more lightly confined. More remarkably, her head harness was wrapped tight about her eyes. All I could see of her features were a pair of lips working silently about the cruel steel bit between them. Her eyes and hair were both swathed in a hood of tightly laced leather.
As my eyes panned down the curve of her spine to a magnificent arse I flinched as I saw her muscular buttocks protruding from within the lycra. And each gleaming globe wore a smattering of red marks.
“Do you like my racing pair ?” I shook myself out of my reverie and turned my attention to the driver of the rig.
She was a tiny lady of mature years, iron grey hair pulled back in a tight bun. Her features wore their years well, and she sat resplendent on her upholstered seat in a garb plucked straight from a Victorian riding magazine. A prim black hat perched on her head, her sharp eyes peering out from behind a short veil. A short red jacket with red lace trim was buttoned tight about her waist and spike heeled button boots peeked out from beneath a long black skirt
“The one at the front is named Arianna.” The smaller girl shook her head in acknowledgement to the accompaniment of those jangling bells, “It’s her job to guide the rig. And this” She patted the muscular bare rump of the rear girl, “Is Victoria”. Victoria turned her blind eyes back and forth at the mention of her name, flexing herself in the shafts making the leather harness creak gently as she moved. “It’s her job to pull the trap along to Arianna’s lead.” The lady gave one of Victoria’s buttocks a sharp smack with the flat of her riding crop and she whinnied past her steel bit and tried to move in her traces with little success.
“She’s quite a figure of womanhood, don’t you think ? I got them both in lieu of a debt locally and they make the most delightful pair. Far better than going about the place in a smelly old Land Rover.” She patted the seat beside herself, “Hop up girl. Lets gets back to the farmhouse and have a chat. I am sure you have all sort of questions for me.”
Not quite sure what so say I perched myself on the thickly padded burgundy leather seat and was barely settled before the lady cracked the whip across poor Victoria’s glorious arse and we were away across the fields.
I watched spellbound at the way Arianna was leading the little cart, but my mind was on Victoria’s rolling buttocks and pumping limbs as they drew us across the rough fields until some buildings and a farmhouse came into view.
“I’ve lived here for years,” the lady said cheerily, “And I do fear we have, made something of a name for ourselves” A wry smile twisted across her lips, “A name of which we are very proud I might add.” she added.
And as I watched the buildings come closer I admired the pumping limbs and writhing buttocks of Victoria accompanied by the jangle of those delightful bells and wondered what awaited us inside.
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story continues in The Farm 2: Morning at the Farm