Blonde Fury II (8 page)

Wilbur reached out and grabbed Lightning’s reins as she was brought to a halt in the winner’s enclosure, he let her continue to toss her head and cavil as she got her wind back and
gradually
stopped stamping.

“Good girl!” he said and unclipped the stabilising chain from between her breasts and pulled it free of the nipples so that her rosette could be pinned to her.

Her driver jumped down and came round to her head.

“If she wasn’t running again this afternoon, I’d have her strung up and thrashed! Never had such a hard puller in my life! If I’d given her her head, she’d have run out of steam a clear
half lap
short.”

“Yeah, she is head
strong over longer distances,” Wilbur agreed. “And after the cross country I’ll happily join you in thrashing her hide for her
. But I do need her to win!”

The driver looked at him shrewdly. “You sound like you mean that Mr Floyd,” he said.

“I surely do.”

“Ok, what rules we running?”

“Usua
l over three miles cross country
.”

A slow smile spread across the man’s face. “Good! In that case let me loose in your kitchen, make that a number three
instead of a number two
at the front of my paycheck and I’ll deliver.”

“If you deliver I’ll
gladly do that and
add another five hundred at the back of it for good measure.”

The men smiled at each other, shook hands and went their separate ways. The driver headed for the house, Wilbur led the now calm White Lightning to her stall, where her groom took her harness off and rubbed her down.

She was given a light lunch which she ate as usual from her wide trough set on the front wall of her stall. She had a long drink from her bottle which hung just above it and grimaced as usual at its rather sour taste of fruit juice and sperm, then she lay down and managed to sleep until she was roused again. Before she was tacked up this time she was led round the yard on a leash from her collar to loosen her muscles up again and was trotted on the
lunge rein
for a few minutes before she was led back
. The traces of the whip from earlier on had largely faded and only a slight discomfort remained. But with the application of oil, even that disappeared beneath her groom’s massaging fingers.

She knew she
was
going
in a
cross country when the tack was laid out and she stamped her foot to show her enthusiasm. The sense of running free was even keener when she was away from a track altogether with only her driver and the rig rumbling across grass behind her. For cross country the ponies wore tails, it was considered that away from a formal track a more natural look was desirable. It also allowed the owners to add a further spur to performance that Sophie had not yet experienced, having not raced over three miles before. But she had worn the crupper strap that went between her legs and which buckled onto a thin belt around her waist. It supported an upward curving prong on which hung her palomino tail. She loved it and didn’t mind the butt plug that assisted in
holding the whole thing steady
at all.

It
w
as the last item they put on her and she got a shock when she bent over in obedience to a downward tug of the reins. The groom’s fingers delivered something icily cold straight into her rectum and then rammed the plug in straight afterwards
. She had no way of knowing that she had been carefully kept from seeing the large ice cube in a steel dish and what it contained. She was allowed to step and prance for a minute afterwards to get used to the strange feeling inside her and then she was led out again.

This time they went down to the river which ran through the ranch.

“Don’t worry,” the driver told Wilbur as they waited for Lightning to be delivered to them. “All the others will have done similar and it’s within the rules. But mine is the best in the business. Hell, I’ve won on an eight year old gelding
at a hundred to one
with that stuff!”

Wilbur raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t worry! I toned it down
a bit and went easy on the spices. Well some of them
!”

Just then Lightning was led towards him, looking graceful and fast with her tail swishing as she moved. He was going to have to watch this and see what havoc was wreaked inside her. He just hoped it wouldn’t be too much for her. If it wasn’t and the driver’s magic jollop worked then it would be the last time she raced in his colours anyway.

Sophie was pleased to see the same driver
as
her last race and tried not to get too restive among the other rigs that jostled for position at the top of the bank beside the river. There were just as many as before but the sulkies themselves were a little different. The wheels were smaller and had pneumatic tyres on them so that
they were
less likely to tip over on rough ground
and for the same reason there was rudimentary suspension
. She could feel the slight extra weight as she was squashed between other ponies, snorting round their bits
and once again she was lost
somewhere in the pack. She hoped her driver would be as
cool
as he had been in the morning race.

The pistol cracked again and they were off. This time her driver slammed the brakes on before she had had a chance to move. The bank sloped steeply down into the water and he wanted a clear view before he let her tip toe her way down, even in dry conditions. With her bit pulling cruelly against the corners of her mouth, making her keep her head up, Sophie had to feel her way forwards, trusting in her driver to steer her because she couldn’t see anything ahead and below her. Beside her
,
other ponies were rearing their heads and snorting as their drivers hauled on the reins too but eventually they were down and into the water. It was only a few inches deep but chilling and refreshing on a hot day like this one.

As soon as she had level ground under her, her reins were eased off and on her own back and on those of the ponies around her she felt and heard the whips again. The tyres of the rig behind her allowed it to bump over the stones behind her without too much effort and soon she was splashing up the far bank between ranks of cheering spectators. The gradient was quite testing and she was panting as she crested the slope and trotted off across a wide meadow, heading for woods. There was a wide swathe of mown grass and they kept to this to make it easier to pull the rigs. Sophie settled in behind some others,
her driver obviously
content to let things take their course for the moment. Cross country races were always longer than track races and called for different tactics.

Once in the shade of the woods the track took several sharp turns between shrubs with sharp thorns and the drivers had to make precise manoeuvres to avoid their ponies being damaged. When they emerged
, Sophie saw another meadow stretching out ahead of them with another broad swathe of mown grass for a track. She made an attempt to pull, eager to pass a couple of the rigs ahead but was reined back in hard and whipped again across her thighs. She normally responded well to the whip being applied to that region, it usually meant sex wouldn’t be far away, but she didn’t like the irritation she
felt from the driver and accept
ed the pain as due punishment. She made a real effort to leave it to him and be obedient, but it still irked her that she knew she
could go so much
faster.

However at the far end of the meadow she saw why he had held back, the track ended in a water hole used by the ranch’s cattle. A great sea of rich brown mud spread out between the ponies and a small stream. Out in the grassland, it was hard mud; sun dried, but under the trees the drivers had to pick their routes across to avoid becoming bogged down.
Sophie’s driver picked a line that took them close to the tape that held the spectators back and they made it with only a few jerks on the sulky’s wheels and with Sophie’s feet only sinking in to the ankle. Then they were in the cold water of the stream and the track, marked out by flags on poles, was taking them along the stream bed. Sophie’s feet slithered and slipped on the stones that lay a few inches deep in the clear water and her driver
kept her reined
in until, a hundred yards on, the track
,
in a gentle climb on their right
,
turned off from
the stream. Wet from
mud,
water and spray, Sophie was glad to get back out in the sun and equally glad to be whipped up to a run as the track joined a tarmac road. Once the wheels were safely on the blacktop, she was whipped up again and eased past two more rigs before the road section ended and a grass track took them back into woodland. But it was still broad enough and straight enough for overtaking. Sophie plunged ahead when she saw another rig just exiting the woods
ahead of them
as they entered it, but again her head was wrenched back and she was made to hold station. Still struggling against the restraint and with her head raised back and twisting they trotted down a slope and back onto tarmac. Still champing at her bit she was trotted along until being steered right again and finding herself crossing the car park in front of the house itself. From there the track left the car park as a narrow lane between ranks of spectators all cheering and shouting as each rig passed. From there they had to go straight down broad terraces on the lawn
. The track was marked out clearly and ran directly down the terraces. The slopes were steep and grassy and the level terraces were only j
u
st wide enough for a rig
and pony
to stand on. As they approached, her driver slowed her almost to a walk and let her get one glance down the three slopes and the tw
o terraces. It was the fiercest
obstacle she had ever encountered and she baulked at it for a second, but three savage
ly hard
cuts across her buttocks as her head was dragged back so she couldn’t see down the terrifying slope
calmed her. A
nd
with
the whip transferring its attentions to her breasts, she cautiously stepped down, digging her heels in.

She was terrified that at any moment she would feel a foot give way and she would be propelled helplessly down the slope with the weight of the sulky about to topple over onto her. But having the bit wrenched to the back of her mouth and being only able to see blue sky from between her blinkers did actually calm her and she made the first slope, but was only able to take one step forwards on the level before the next slope began. Once again she leaned backwards and dug in her heels, staring at the sky as her driver just tapped her back with the whip to urge her on carefully. Again there was only
one
step on the level and then the third slope had
to
be negotiated. She made it down and realised that once again
, after a short space,
the track was a narrow defile between the spectators who were applauding loudly as the rig made it. Immediately
they were safe, Sophie felt a succession of hot, stinging lashes across her shoulders, followed by two that wrapped her
and
struck across her breasts again. Sh
e was required to speed up
and f
or a couple of hundred yards they ran between the ranks of the crowd and then they were back into the open and before she knew it she was being reined back to negotiate the bank that led
down
to the ford across the river. That had been just the first lap and Sophie realised this co
uld be the most testing race she had ever been entered for
.
Gritting her teeth around her bit s
he ducked her head
as she felt the whip spur her up the opposite bank and out into the country again.

Wilbur stood with his hands in his pockets and watched as White Lightning made it down the terraces. She was lying third and well placed with three more laps to go. His other entry was lying eighth and he had hopes the Pretty Pony ranch might get two podium places at the end of the day.

“That blonde su
re is a fine creature, Mr Floyd.
” The voice belonged to one of his best customers; a banker from New England. “You could name your own price in the sale ring for her – especially if she does well today.”

“I do not sell my ponies, Walter,” he replied. “Indeed I do not.”

“Pity, w
ith the
Open
Classics starting up soon, it’ll be a seller’s market,” Walter persisted.

Wilbur pretended not to hear and gazed out across the meadow as Lightning was whipped on towards the starting line and the river. I do not sell my ponies, he repeated to himself. At least, not up until now.

The second lap was fairly uneventful and her driver just
kept her moving comfortably. On
one of the meadow stretches a rig did try to come from behind but Sophie was given her head for once and joyfully she lengthened her stride under the lash and they saw the challenge off easily. When they came to the terraces, again she was slowed almost to a walk and again her head was wrenched back and the whip drove home the message that she was to be careful. However, by the time she was leaning forwards and powering her way up the far bank of the river and setting off into the country again, something very odd
began to happen
inside her. Slowly a heat was building inside her. Deep in her entrails, right at the top of her rectum in fact. It was a stinging, itching sensation
that was maddening and agonising without being frightening, but which – as it grew in intensity – left Sophie entirely c
onvinced that she had to get that
tail out of her bottom as fast as possible. Hardly realising what she was doing she broke straight into a gallop as she crested the rise and set off across the meadow.