Gromet's PlazaPonyGirl/PetGirl Stories

Training Rose 6: Dressage

by AngieF

Email Feedback | Forum Feedback

© Copyright 2013 - AngieF - Used by permission

Storycodes: Solo-F; M+/f+; ponygirls; harness; tack; armbinder; enema; insert; tail; training; stables; arena; crowd; race; display; anal; sex; climax; cons/reluct; X

(story continues from )

Part 6: Dressage

Henry had actually come up trumps, I had barely arrived back at the farm than he took me to the big barn behind the stables, one I had never been to before, and I saw it contained a half decent training arena.

"What do you think of this?" he asked.

It was a little black box with a strap.

"Great?" I said, "wow a box with a strap wonderful".

"Ha, you haven't tried it yet," he chuckled, "strap it around your upper thigh, plug in headphones and try it."

He helped me strap it on, the fact I was wearing a yellow mini-skirt made it easier and he helped me with the headphones and said, "Ok leg level," he said and as I stood on one leg he said, "higher higher, how's that?"

"What?" I asked.

"Bugger, the battery's flat," he said, "Hang on." he fiddled and said, "How's that."

Well it was awful, there was the sound of a tuba through the headphones.

"Great!" I agreed sarcastically.

"Dressage steps go on," I walked keeping my thigh exactly level for as much of each step as possible and the pitch in the headphones changed constantly, "You want concert B flat for level." he said.

"What's wrong with middle C or A 440?" I asked.

"What ever note you want, it's just that this one's set to  B flat for level." he said.

I held my leg level and moved it up and down slightly, it was really easy to pick out when it was level, and that is what is so difficult in Dressage.

"Henry, you're a genius!" I said and I kissed him.

"You can practice on your own if you wants," he suggested.

"Yes, I can, can't I," I agreed.

"Or else I can have the headphones and correct you with the whip," he offered.

"Yes, on my own sounds good," I suggested.

"Spoilsport!" he laughed, "I'll leave you to it then," and he walked away.

It was really good, It gave a really clear indication of when my thighs were level, which is of course the key thing for dressage, and well Bb wasn't a bad note to visualise and I had great fun trotting around with the thing buzzing away, it was a bit lonely though, but it really was a useful gadget.

I went in after an hour or so, "That's really great Henry." I complimented him, "Can I have a few for Melton Villa."

"Sure, Two hundred and fifty pounds each all right," he said.

"Fifteen hundred for ten pairs," I offered

"Done!" he agreed and I realised I had been, done that is, but he had a living to make I supposed.

"I suppose we better get you back home?" Henry suggested, "Shall I get that Tom up here."

"No, I'd rather walk!" I suggested, "Can you take me to the station." 

"Yes," he agreed, "But Georgina." Henry asked, he never called me Georgina, "How do you feel about training Sandra for me?"

"Me, what here?" I asked.

"No down your place," he suggested, "See she's tough as old boots already, her wants softening up see," he said.

"Well yes, why not." I agreed.

"Then I'll tell Harry to send her over first thing," he suggested, "She's got a car and she can drive you home."

It all sounded very good, we had a very congenial supper in Martha's kitchen, I had a lovely long soak in the bath, washed my hair and slept happily in a lovely soft bed, alone unfortunately, and then in the morning I packed and watched TV as I waited for Sandra to arrive.

She arrived at Nine thirty, I was in the yard by then and I just couldn't believe it, she drove a museum piece, a Morris Minor for heaven's sake.

Henry greeted her, "Welcome, welcome!" he said, "I thought I'd subcontract your training to Georgina here."

"What," Sandra snarled.

"Henry asked me to train you as a Pony girl," I explained, "Do you understand?"

"What here?" she asked.

"No down south, why?" I asked.

"So my friends won't be able to see me?" she said.

"I suppose not, why?" I asked.

"Because that would be great!" she actually smiled, her teeth needed whitening I decided.

"Can you drive Georgina down south?" Henry asked.

"As long as it isn't Motorway," she said.

"Of course it's bloody Motorway," I said.

"You'd better drive then," she said, "She doesn't like doing more than forty."

My heart sank, but well at least I would be in charge.

I loaded my luggage while Henry sorted Sandra out with a set of tack, he got Albert to give her an enema and then he was going to break her in, she was bent over the bar in the Tack room when I walked in. "Henry, I think I had better take over now." I suggested.

She looked relieved, "I think she's probably gay," I told Henry but he let her up, took her gag out and let her dress in tee shirt, Levis and rubber boots.

We set off just before lunch, Henry, Albert and Martha waved goodbye as I struggled with the evil clutch and steering of the Museum piece, I think it was a 1956 model, that's older than Daddy, anyway it did more than 40 mph, but not much more, and soon it was screeching and grinding down the M1, "It's got a new engine so it needs running in," Sandra explained.

I never had so little fun, flat out in the slow lane with trucks queueing up to overtake, it was so humiliating, worse than being fucked up the backside by a load of Yorkshiremen with a box over my head, to be honest, but I just kept the accelerator jammed against the floor and prayed, until eventually we found an Articulated lorry to slipstream and that's how we went down south.

Daddy nearly had hysterics when I drove into the drive, "Haha," he chortled, as I drew up by him and wound the window down, "That's one way to slow you down."

"It still goes faster than Tom does," I retorted, "But here's Sandra." I pointed to the passengers seat, "Henry wants me to train her."

Sandra was captivated, Daddy has that effect on people."Sandra, meet Daddy!" I suggested.

She just stared like a love struck puppy.

"Oh hell, I'll take her to her room, " I suggested and I drove round to Melton Villa.

I knew there would be trouble, I was sure Miss Farque would have assumed the role of Daddy's latest girlfriend and would be devastated to be set aside but of course I was wrong.

Sonia, Miss Farque was sitting in the Ponygirl's lounge wearing her street clothes, a blue midi length dress when Sarah and I walked in, "Sonia, this is Sarah Wallace, I am going to train her," I explained.

"You lucky girl," Sonia exclaimed, "I've had the father and Rose's frustrated boyfriend training me for the last week and if I never have another threesome it won't be too soon."

"Sonia please some decorum!" Daddy said but the truth of it was written all over his face. "Now Sarah have you been broken in yet?"

"No sir," Sarah simpered like a schoolgirl.

"Then I think I have a clear duty." Daddy decided.

"Oh no you don't!" I exclaimed but I might just as well have talked to a brick wall.

Sarah simply followed Daddy from the lounge to the Tack-room.

"Over the counter if you don't mind," Daddy suggested and she just bent over the counter with barely a murmur, "And you Georgina, Tom will be here any moment now!"

"Oh look no way!" I exclaimed, "If you think I'm going to..."

"Counter Georgina, come along," Daddy insisted, "I want Sarah to see that you can obey orders as well as give orders."

"Oh, I suppose so," I agreed as I pulled my skirt up and panties down and bent over the counter.

Tom still hadn't arrived when I heard the rustle of Daddy pulling Sarah's shorts and panties down and I saw her grimace and then relax as he entered her.

"Georgina!" Tom wailed as he came in the door, I looked round at him as I waited bum in the air expecting him to ravish me but oh no, this was Tom, so what did he do, he grabbed me, lifted me in a fireman's lift pulled my panties up and kissed me full on the lips, "Oh I've missed you, have you eaten?"

I despaired, what sort of man turns down an open invitation to ask if I've eaten.

"No actually, I fancied a fuck first," I said.

"Quite so, have a quick shower and then we'll meet by the lake at half past," he said.

He really was impossible.

"I said..." I said.

"By the lake, make it special," he said, "Please."

So he put me down, lord knows what poor Sandra thought, she probably didn't notice the way Daddy was going at her, a cross between a Yorkshire terrier and a Teenager, I really worried that he would have a heart attack, but that was Daddy's way.

I stayed and watched for a moment, Miss Farque joined me, "He is so energetic, he makes me sore." she said.

"I'm not surprised judging by that!" I exclaimed, "Oh well I'll sort Tom out."

I didn't have a shower, I took a towel and my old swimming schnorkle and went to the lake, Tom was nowhere to be seen so I hid my clothes by a tree and dived in the lake, it was absolutely bloody freezing, but I swam to the Island and found a place to watch from.

Tom came down the path in a cart pulled by Lynva and another Pony-girl I didn't know and he started to unload a hamper and champagne bucket to surprise me with and he laid it all out on a rug beside the lake.

I felt awful, he was going to so much trouble, like he really cared or something, and then he sat down and sent the girls away and waited.

I didn't have time to get dressed so I swam elegantly towards him and then waded through the mud and slime to emerge more like the monster from the lagoon than anything elegant.

"Sorry," I said, "I think I've spoiled it."

"Georgina, you're the most amazing girl I've ever known," he simpered stating the obvious, here it comes will you do me the honour I thought, "Will you marry me?" he asked.

"What?" I queried.

"Marry me." he said.

"No, not until you start being more fun!" I explained.

"But I got the ring on Ebay, I can't take it back!" he explained as he held this diamond engagement ring out for me to see.

"Oh well in that case Yes!" I said, "We can't waste a good ring can we!"  of course the damned thing wouldn't fit anywhere except my little finger.

"Oh Georgina" he said hugging me close which meant he got pond slime all over his suit, "Let's make love on the Island," he said and he dived in fully clothed, which wasn't very bright as the water was barely six inches deep with two feet of slime and mud beneath it.

Eventually we got to the Island, wet muddy bedraggled, cold, and feeling pretty stupid, but he undressed and kissed me and I felt warmer, and I kissed him and well soon things were pretty hot and all the frustrations of the last few days needed to be swept away and he started to soothe them with his fingers and finally with seven inches or so of solid muscle.

"Tom," I asked, "Why didn't you just fuck me an hour ago?"

"Foreplay is very important." he said.

"Tom, next time just fuck me, ok?" I insisted.

"Ok you're the boss." he said and I just knew I was going to love being married.

But first there was Cannes, arguably the worlds most prestigious Pony Girl show, although maybe the world series in Las Vegas pays better and I didn't know half the rules which was one huge problem, as they were different to regional UK rules in many respects, especially the tie breaks, and oh boy did they enjoy tie breaks, but they do say I'm resourceful and determined, actually they're more likely to call me a ruthless bitch, but that's just sour grapes.

I don't cheat you understand, but there's no point in not stretching the rules to the limit is there? So as soon as I could get rid of Tom on the pretext that Sonia needed him I got stuck into the rule book

Cannes has the usual Dressage and Jump sections but the cross country has a short swim and an awkward rocky landing, which is no fun tacked up,  but it gave me an idea, and the Jumps are really awkward, luckily the complete course is shown in the rule book so we could replicate it at home, but really I was up against girls who dedicated every waking hour to Pony-play.

The type of stalls were also laid down in the rule book, and they were gross, yuck, no better than stables, but I was sure that the rules didn't actually say I had to use them, they specified everything else, and well there were all sorts of little wrinkles I could exploit, or so I thought, so I planned my strategy accordingly.

We went to France by Eurostar train and arrived on the Riviera around eight thirty in the evening, I took Tom to see the cross country course in the faint moonlight of evening.

"Why don't I use schnorkel?" I asked as we got to the swim section.

"Because it's borderline illegal and..." he said

"And what?" I asked irritably.

"It's barely deep enough," he explained, "I'll show you."

Now skinny dipping is alright but do you know he had his swimming trunks on under his trousers, what a twit, and he peeled down to his trunks and waded in.

The water barely reached his neck even when he went the long way around to avoid the rocks and land on the beach.

"See, it will barely reach your chin," he pointed out and I knew then I was in with a good chance.

I walked back with him as he shivered in the cool night air, he remembered his trunks, and forgot the towel.

"Georgina," he shivered, "The tie break."

"Yes," I agreed, "What about it?"

"You can't possibly win on a tie break." he said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"The panel will judge you on remaining still and keeping an even facial expression..."  he pointed out the obvious.

"Yes," I agreed.

"While you stand at a bar and a designated person tries to have anal sex with you." he stated.

"I know, I'll just have to pull out a big lead." I explained.

"No, they like tie breaks, but Georgina how about..." and he whispered his plan to me, I'm afraid I thought it was hilarious.

"Is it legal?" I asked.

"Oh y'yes I read the rule books several times," he insisted through chattering teeth.

"Then I'll do it!" I agreed.

My plan was to spend the nights in an Hotel not in the disgusting stalls but somehow Daddy and Tom conspired and on the pretext of making sure my tack was perfect, they had me get tacked up and as soon as they had my hands trapped they gagged me and dragged me down to the stables, where they led me in and incarcerated me in a stall. Oh boy was I angry and of course I always perform best when I'm angry so I suppose they did the right thing.

I missed all the pre-event parties, maybe that was a good thing, and really the first I saw of the event is when they changed my tack for the highly polished competition version and led me from my stall along a maze of corridors and along through various marquees and finally out of the tunnel into the arena.

I think it was a railway station once, the Arena, it had this immense Victorian roof, rather like the old part of Temple Meads station at Bristol, and under it was this huge arena, I think it normally had a cycle or an athletics track around it and seats for literally thousands of people, certainly there was ample room for both Dressage and Jumps courses to be set up at the same time, as well as an elaborate podium for the winners and of course a raised Tie-break platform.

Even that first morning for the heats, where they whittled down the field to the best forty or so, there were hundreds of people present and we were expected to be pleasant and placid like nice little ponies, well I'll tell you when I'm angry I kick like a mule. "Ah monsieur Melton," a swarthy little pompous frenchman exclaimed, as he stroked my hair and stuck two fingers in my vagina, "What a beautiful pony,"

I tolerated it for ages, three, four maybe even five seconds before I kicked the swarthy little sod.

"Kicks like a mule," Daddy laughed, "Best to stroke her clitoris first old boy," he said as the Frenchman ran through his entire vocabulary of curses as he hopped on one leg and clutched his ankle.

"Bloody French never heard of foreplay," Daddy suggested to no one in particular.

I sulked, boring Frenchmen and women poking me, the women were worst their nails were terrible, huge and cracked and jagged, and I didn't know who slept with which judge so I just had to pretend to like it when they prodded and felt and fingered, and not just my vagina, thank god Tom had given me a early enema before all the hot water was used up.

The first event was as always dressage, I hate dressage, walking round dead upright with ones thighs exactly level is not my idea of fun, but perhaps I should explain about the sounders, you see the tack required was an arm clincher behind my back, knee length, heel-less hoof boots, corset to thrust my breasts up with a wide waist belt, and a skeleton bridle and leather skull cap with my hair led through as a pony tail, a padded ball-gag bit and the obligatory ostrich plumes added to the equine look as did the reins, but in addition I wore the garters which housed the sounder sensors, which we were sure were permitted under section 115 /3/iii of the rules, Decorative Garter(s) may also be worn..

It was Tom's plan for me to wear the garters but without the sounder system I used  to make sure my legs were level, because Tom thought if I had a lead the French dominated judges could use the "Illegal Sounder system," which was actually legal as a way to dock me some points, so I wore the garters and Tom told everyone I was using the sounder system, and I think that's why I did so well, joint second, I think the judges thought I was cheating so they didn't deduct many points because obviously my legs were level if I used the system but they could rely on getting me disqualified or dock me some points at a later stage.

Dressage ran three heats with the top fifteen from each of two heats going through and then a third heat for those in the top thirty who didn't get through in the first two heats, from which the top ten went through.  That took all morning, I won the first heat and then sat around forever and got cold and stiff so I ended up joint second in the final with  "Argonought's Daughter," while "Resenbalm," took the win and then after a meal served in buckets which was absolutely disgusting even by French standards we had the jumps, again three heats and a final.

I was calmer by then and came third, both in my heat and the final and and then it was back to the stables for me until the cross country.

The course was about ten miles, mostly around the Arena, along the disused railway line towards the town of Cannes but with a big inland loop followed by the descent beside the stream to the secluded private bay and private beach, followed by the short swim and the steep climb to the finishing line which was a quarter mile of so from the Arena, but we had to wear cloaks from the line to the Arena because that was along public roads.

Tom's plan worked like a charm, I ran well within my capabilities and I was in fifth place coming down the rocky path to the secluded beach and going into the sea I was fifty yards or so behind the leader and coming out on the beach instead of the rocks I had a twenty yard lead simply because I went really wide and deep and went the whole way on soft sand with water up to my chin, while some waded waist deep and had to pick their way over the rocks, and others went wide but swam and when I left the water it was just a final sprint for the line.

Sprint, you try sprinting in waterlogged leather hoof boots with a horse shoe on the bottom, it was more like a half hearted jog but it was the same for everyone and I was still twenty yards clear when I breasted the tape, I would have raised my arms in celebration if I could, but actually I felt awful as my tack was soaked with salt water and it itched abominably.

Tom quickly slipped the cloak around me and we made our way back to the arena building to wait for the provisional results, which I knew would put me in the lead overall.

I sat around itching for ages until an official presented Tom with provisional result which put me first with twenty five points for the CC, seventeen and a half for the joint second Dressage and fifteen for 3rd in the jumps total fifty seven and a half, while "Caro Mio" had twenty five for the Jumps, ten for the Dressage, (4th) and twenty for the CC (2nd). "Resenbalm," had the Dressage win twenty five, ten for 4th in the jumps and fifteen for 3rd in the CC also fifty, while "Argonought's Daughter," aka Sandra Rogers, was fourth with seventeen and a half for dressage, twenty for jumps and ten (4th) for CC, total forty seven and a half.

"That's provisional," Tom reminded me unnecessarily so he took me to the stewards area for final checking to ensure we complied with the regulations in every way.

Tie breaks were the highlight of the event and scores were manipulated to make sure two or three tied for points every year and so after keeping me hanging about in salt encrusted damp tack for over half an hour, together with much prodding and poking, the Stewards announced they were docking me seven and a half points for using a device outside the spirit of the rules, specifically the sounder, thus reducing my score to fifty and creating a three way tie.

Tom lodged an immediate appeal on my behalf, which caused consternation.

"We did not use the equipment for the competition," Tom explained, "She only uses the equipment for training, Indeed your own official photographs clearly show there were no senders in Rose's garters." and he had a set of their photographs with him in his holdall.

The judges were outraged, but could not find anything to contradict Toms explanation especially when they asked me about the system.

"Where do you keep the battery," they asked, after releasing my gag.

"In my special tail," I said, well I couldn't say up my bum could I? "You can see the wires when I wear it," I explained, "It runs over my thigh and spoils the line so I can't use it for competitions."

M. Gauchmont, chief steward was not pleased, I thought he was going to hit me but after a few minutes heated argument he had to admit our appeal had been upheld and thus I was the winner with fifty seven points, but then M. Gauchmont  and the other stewards huddled in their office in intense annoyance and in their inscrutable Gallic way they docked Caro and Resembalm two and a half points each for some imagined infringement and set up a Tie break between them and "Argonaught's Daughter" for second and third places and announced a Tie break would be held at seven o'clock.

Surprise surprise.

Every year they managed to stage manage a tie break through some imagined rule infringement or other so two or better still three girls had to endure a tie break, standing immobile as a well endowed ACC, which translates as Cannes Pony Club, official has anal sex with the girls, any change of posture or facial expression loses marks right up until the man's final releases and pulls out of the girl, three pony girls sodomised before a crowd of getting on for fifteen hundred paying enthusiasts, each of whom had paid two thousand dollars for the privilege, not to mention journalists from Pony Girl Monthly and the French and German publications, trainers grooms and other Pony Girls who filled the lower places. 

Tom had brought my things and had released my arm clincher and so I sneaked away and had a shower and changed from my tack into my white gown with sequins, the one that sparkles in the light, with Granny's old pearl necklace and Mummy's pony brooch and a little fake fur jacket set off by sheer white stockings held up with good old fashioned suspenders and a little wonderbra to make the most of what I had, oh and of course impossible heels, rather like pony boots but cut away and in dazzling silver, I think I was just about dressed to kill..

My hair wasn't even wet or salt encrusted like the others, and I felt like a million dollars as I sneaked back into the arena.

"You cannot receive your medal like that," pompous M.Gauchmont stated, as he saw me re-enter the arena, and wave to the crowd. "You must wear the regulation uniform." he insisted,

"And where pray does that appear in the regulations?" Tom asked as he came across and placed a protective arm around my waist, of course it didn't mention it in the regs.

"Is common sense," Gauchmont replied.

"Not to me," I piped up, "It says absolutely nothing I checked and neither," I poked a finger in Tom's ribs, "Does it say I must use that horrible stable before the event."

"But it is tradition!" Gauchmont continued, but he had to go, It was 7 p.m. and the equipment for the tie break had been assembled, and the girls were ready and the waiting to draw lots for the men, the three swarthy Mediterranean coast Frenchmen, chosen quickly from among a queue of volunteers  and almost identical in every respect, dressed neatly in blue blazers and red cravats and except for their boots, naked from the waist down.

"Medames et messieurs, Ladies and Gentlemen," M.Gauchmont announced, "After the last event and careful checks by the rules committee," which always produced a ripple of laughter, "We have a tie of the points for." he paused theatrically, "Second place."

There was an audible gasp, "Oui, Melton Stud Rose, with fifty seven and a half points is our winner but  with forty seven and a half points each we have Caro Mio and Resembalm and Argonaught's Daughter".

Not that it mattered, three fit Pony girls still sweaty and salty from the cross country were led onto the stage where there were three identical whipping rails for want of  better description, but the girls were merely to use the rails to brace themselves as the men forced themselves on the them, points being deducted for any change of expression, the ideal being total indifference, personally I would rather come fourth than get my bottom prodded in public by a swarthy little Frenchman but that not a popular opinion around Cannes. 

For while I as a competitor thought that, it was obvious from the packed seating around the arena that I was if not alone in my thoughts then very much in the minority.

Of course the three Caro Mio, Argonaughts Daughter and Resembalm had spent every possible second practising with their trainers since the Tie break had become inevitable, live practice with the trainers well lubricated penis and toy practice with the largest butt plug they could find, oh and all in full public view in "Parc Ferme" conditions in the holding pen in the arena.

Poor Argonaught, I didn't know her personally but with her father or so I thought screaming at her she made it very plain she didn't want a 45mm tail butt plug in her rectum, I laughed when one of her wild kicks finally made contact with his crotch, and he fell back clutching at his manhood, but Resenbalm took her trainers live warm but smaller appendage with hardly a ripple of interest across her face, I felt bad, she would have been champion if we hadn't pulled the pretending to cheat scam, but then that's what life is about isn't it? pushing the boundaries.

At exactly Seven o'clock the tie break started.  Argonaught lost five points instantly with a well aimed kick which took the wind out of the Frenchman's sails and very nearly took his penis off as well, but it was her twisted smile of satisfaction which did the damage to her score while Caro and Resenbalm just braced and stood still their faces showing about as much enthusiasm as for a Monday morning lecture on Molluscs.

Argonaught's man finally forced himself up her at about ten past seven by which time the other two had worn out their first swarthy Frenchmen and reserves had to be sent for, it was all getting rather farcical, so I went on a meet and greet, "Hello, I'm Rose this years supreme champion," I said which was a bit different to the "Mmppphhh," nods and foot stamps they were used to from champions.

"I'm Lucy Rosenbalm, I was Ice maiden, I won in 1985," a well preserved middle aged blonde lady explained, as we shook hands, "Are you a model?" she asked.

"Lord no - student," I said, "I'm a trainer really, I just wanted to get some experience!"

"You're not interested in modelling then," she asked.

"Maybe," I agreed and moved on, there were a surprising number of former winners and competitors, and of course owners and a considerable number of enthusiasts or perverts as we called them.

"Oh my lord will you look at that," the Countess of somewhere or other exclaimed as I shook her hand, I turned in time to see Caro blow her chances in a graphic display of orgasmic bliss, which incidentally earned her a million dollar porn film contract, and then Resenbalm got the same bug while Argonaught's daughter gazed impassively as her wounded Frenchman did his worst with a less than fully hard penis thrust up her bum.

Of course the proceedings then entered the farcical stage as I was nowhere near the stage when  M Gauchmont declared a result, usually the tie break is for first, second and third, so I had to scramble to the Podium which I refused to do, and they had to find some me some steps, and I was not popular as dinner time approached.

So it was Resenbalm third, she climbed the lowest step of the podium. M Gauchmont put the sash round her neck, M. LeJeune handed her trainer the cup and in true Gallic style M.Gauchmont slipped two fingers into her hot wet vagina making her gasp as the flash bulbs exploded in a barrage of bluish white light.

"In Second place Argonaught's daughter!" M.Gauchmont intoned through the archaic PA system and the place erupted with wild applause, as apparently they thought she was really the true winner because I cheated, but she came fourth on initial points, couldn't the people count? She also got a sash and a feel from M.Gauchmont, and her trainer got a cup, and then it was my turn, I think about ten people clapped as I climbed to the podium.

"And the winner of the Grand Prix de Cannes," M.Gauchmont announced. "English Rose" the bastard never even got my name right.  I ducked for him to put the sash round my neck and nearly avoided his hand as he pushed my knickers aside to feel me, but of course my hands were free so I slapped him, hard, and then as M. LeJeune handed the big cup to Tom I grabbed it and held it above my head as I did a podium jump.

That got the camera's flashing, a good job as the podium collapsed as I landed which was a bit unfortunate but the photo's of me all excited, well faking excitement to be honest, but me jumping, with the cup and the sash fully dressed in my lovely sparkly dress well it was a wonderful image, no nudity, just pure unadulterated glamour something the sport could use to attract mainstream sponsorship even.

The Dinner was exquisite, I sat by M.Gauchmont, traditionally the winner had remained tacked up but for her bit and with her arms free for dinner but I wore my sparkly dress and ate one handed whilst M.Gauchmont tried to pretend my hand wasn't down his trousers as I gently masturbated him to at least two orgasms before we finished the main course.

There was of course the obligatory speech from M. Gauchmont which I'm told lasted ten minutes, I would have believe three hours, and then unscheduled I grabbed the micro phone and made my speech, "Medammes et Monsieurs, Ladies and Gentlemen," I started and I thanked everyone from Mrs Grimes who lent me her name, through Henry Bryant, Phil the Euphonium player for Rattenthorpe Brass Band who made the sounder, Daddy and Mummy of course and Tom my fiancee.

"And finally I would like to announce my retirement from pony play competitions as a pony-girl, as I wish to concentrate on a career as a trainer."

"But Mam'selle," M.Gauchmont cried, "Your entry for Las Vegas, for the world series, you have an automatic entry as  winner at Cannes, you cannot let us down, the honour of France, I mean of Cannes is at stake!"

"And about half a million quid for the winner," Tom whispered.

"I meant from Cannes, of course I'll do Vegas," I said with a sinking heart, god Frenchmen were bad enough what on earth would the yanks be like?


You can also leave feedback & comments for this story on the Plaza Forum


story continues in


If you've enjoyed this story, please write to the author and let them know - they may write more!
back to
ponygirl stories