Pony Racer (The Beginning)

Pony Racer. (the Beginning).

Everyone has heard of Royal ascot and ladies day, and strawberries at the track side, with champer’s in a glass bubbling away. The noise of the start gun, the excitement of betting on the racers, of watching the horse flesh gallop around the circuit. Then there are the trap racers, carriage drivers who thunder teams of horses around a cross-country course, well I am a part of that scene, but not in the normal way!

My ascot is held at Fullerton woods, My carriage race is in the privacy of the Fullerton hotels grounds, and my pony is myself, not an animal with four legs but a young vibrant woman with two legs, and a desire to be driven. My driver is not some old man, but my step sister! She holds the whip and pushes me to exert myself in every race, and woe betide me if I do not give her my all. This is my story of how my life as a pony-girl developed.

My life as a pony started with a single photograph secretly shown by Elizabeth (my step sister) to me on a very wet dull day many years ago. The image was quite simple; it consisted of a young woman in leather body suite with a bridle strapped to her head, and a steel bit in her mouth. Leather reins ran from the bridle to fade from the picture. Her hair had been bound with ribbon and looked to me like a true pony tail as it trailed down her back.

Elizabeth had always been the stronger of us ever since we had first met. My mother had married her father and a new family unit had been created. Elizabeth realised quite quickly that it was she that would hold the whip hand in our relationship, and throughout our formative years she did exactly that, and I willingly accepted my role as subservient to her.

There is no better smell in the world than that of a tack-room filled with leather, I loved it the very first time I smelt it, and Elizabeth noted my pleasure. We rode our horses around the local area for years and each time when we returned it was me that rubbed down, mucked out and polished the leather and metal, not her, she watched, enjoying my labour at her command.

Daddy purchased a single person trap on a whim, and from that day onwards we were committed. Soon after that Elizabeth now aged nineteen whilst I was the baby of the family at eighteen, showed me another photo. This one showed a woman bound up between the hafts of a carriage whilst being driven by her master around a course.

Elizabeth realised my excitement at seeing the image and smiled a knowing smile, her wicked, perverse mind twisting my reaction to her own will. A few days later she showed me more photographs which she had downloaded from the internet and I was hooked. Needless to say Elizabeth had a few ideas of her own, and there was little chance that they would not involve me in some subjugated way.

Our parents went away for a long celebratory weekend and as soon as they left Elizabeth turned to me and said, “Stables Isobel now!” That tone of voice left no room for argument so I went to the stables and stood waiting for her to arrive, she kept me waiting like that for quite a long time.

She flung open the door and entered, wearing her hacking jacket and breaches, she picked up a riding crop, weighing it in her hands and then put it down, replacing it with a long dressage whip.

“Strip, but keep your trainers on!”

I looked up and realised that she was not joking! I stripped as ordered. She held out a leather harness I had not seen before, she had got the local leather smith to make it for her, I bet he was wondering who would be wearing it! Who knows he might even have guessed or been told!

The harness fitted quite well, a few tugs about to seat it, some buckling up of the straps and my head was soon swathed in leather strapping. She added a metal snaffle-bit and once that went into my mouth and was attached correctly my ability to talk was very much reduced. She platted my long blond hair to a length of four inches from my skull and banded it tight, allowing the remaining ten inches or so to float free.

The carriage waited in the stable yard, she had got it out and set it up whilst I had been waiting inside of the stables. I was led by my reins to the carriage and then just like a real horse I was backed between the hafts and into place.

“Stay girl!” She said with a gentle touch to my cheek.

I stood; a leather harness was fitted over my shoulders and buckled to my naked waist and above my petite breasts. My arms were pulled behind my back, and bound with horse tape, which is a roll of decorative cloth much like a bandage. My fingers were stretched out and wrapped as though I was praying but backwards. Then the tape was wrapped all the way up my arms securing them perfectly. No matter how much I tried to move I could not, not even my fingers, she had me helpless! Chain was fitted to the hafts which she then fitted to the waist belt on either side, thus attaching me to the carriage, further leather straps were added securing the weight of the carriage to me and allowing it to be distributed across my shoulders and hips.

She climbed aboard and sat herself comfortably. The two wheeled carriage once occupied balanced quite well, and her extra weight seemed only negligible. I stood naked all but for my running shoes, which she had ordered left on my feet, and the straps which secured me to the carriage.

The dressage whip flicked to my left accompanied by a tug on the reins and a light flick, I leant forward putting my body weight into my shoulder harness, and pushed down with my feet. The carriage moved slightly, it rocked first and then I felt the wheels turn, the whip flicked lightly across my bare back, I pushed harder, we were off.

Elizabeth drove me that day and the next and the next, always naked always utterly under her command and control, the excitement at being drive so, made concentrating on running as instructed very difficult, my training as a racing pony was begun and continues to this day.

Fullerton races occurred a year after my training began I will tell you the tale of my first ever competition sometime soon if you would like to read it?

The End

18.07.10