Gymkhana

Today was not a particularly relaxing one. Not that
that is a problem, of course – I’m not a person who feels the effects of nerves and stress – but it would be nice to have a little bit of peace every now and again.
It was always going to be busy, of course. I’ve been working hard for months to co-ordinate the annual Gymkhana and today was the big day. Half of Cruella was due to descend on my country estate but the prospect didn’t perturb me. I can look back now, from the luxury of this jacuzzi, and say that it was a success. The day began with breakfast: chocolates for me (to refill my energy tanks for the exhausting day ahead) and a taste of my boot for the slaves – plenty of roughage. The chocolates were delicious; and so, I imagine, were the soles of my riding boots. Rick and Andy – the two houseboys I selected for feeding – certainly didn’t complain.
I took them out into the paddock just after dawn and made them lay down in the dewy grass. It was cold but who cares – I like to keep a man’s ardour under control and there is no more effective way than by inducing the shivers.
“Right,” I said. “Breakfast; who’s first?” There was no immediate reply. The two boys seemed to prefer to remain prostrate in the wet grass so I selected Andy for the first course. I gave Rick a kick to get him up onto his hands and knees, then plonked myself down on his shoulders. I crossed my legs to present my left boot for cleaning, then flicked my whip over Andy’s neck to inform him that dining was about to commence.
I was rather disappointed when he rolled over onto his back. Clearly he knew what was expected of him so my legitimate disciplinary opportunities were going to be limited. I could not remember ever having used that particular slave for ‘breakfast duties’ before, but clearly I must have done. I don’t know… I have so many slaves that I find it hard to keep a track of who’s who. Not that it matters, of course – one piece of meat is just as rotten as any other.
Anyway… Andy made a good meal out of the clotting rubbish on my left boot.
He cleaned the sole and the upper with such fastidiousness that I couldn’t fault him. I gave him a good beating for it.
I dislike slaves who try to avoid punishment by ingratiating themselves with me.
Eventually Andy took his place on his hands and knees, presenting me with a seat for Rick’s meal.
This slave was a little less skilled in the gustatory arts, a fact that I exploited with his subsequent beating.
The slaves had barely finished their breakfasts when the first team of work- males arrived to construct the fences for the gymkhana.
I abandoned the feeding session and went off to get on with some proper punishing.
The layout of the course took me the whole morning to compose and complete. I hoped that my guests and the competitors would approve.
They did….
To spice the day up a bit, many of the girls turned out in PVC, rubber and leather costumes.
Others had simply decided to go topless, or even – in a couple of outstanding cases – naked.
My best friend, Natalia wore the more conventional riding kit: skin-tight white jodhpurs, riding boots, a teeny white T- shirt to contain her bulging breasts, leaving a band of sun-tanned flesh exposed around the waist. A word about Natalia: her waist is trim, her navel small and cute, and her hips and bum very firm and perfectly curved.
A row of naked boot-boys polished frantically to make the ladies’ boots gleam in the hot, summer sunshine.
One lady was most dissatisfied by the shine on her PVC thigh-boots and gave the hapless slave an almighty slap across the face which set the heads turning. I made a note of the inept slave concerned with a view to exacting more permanent retribution. A group of younger girls giggled joyously as they made one particular hapless male lick their boots clean, then kicked him over onto his back and trampled across him in their sparkling footwear: traditional spurred riding boots with long, ferociously spiked heels.
Natalia and I fratemised with a group of delectable old friends, all chattering excitedly and drinking large glasses of vintage champagne. In the saddling enclosure, an army of stable lasses were saddling, bridling, bitting, and fitting martingales and bearing reins to the horses who were audibly stamping and champing, sweating in the blazing sun.
We all looked across as a lass yanked up a bearing rein, causing her charge to let out a loud, pained neigh.
The lasses were working hard, wet patches of perspiration darkening their crisp white blouses. Most of them prefer to go bra-less on the big occasions, hoping, no doubt, that some rich and powerful sugar-sister might spot their talents and whisk them away to a life of utmost decadence.
It is certainly erotic to see their breasts becoming intermittently visible as the pretty girls stretch forward or bend over to pick up tack.
A strong, loud female voice rang out across the P.A. system to announce the first event – the show jumping. I had hired a certain Mistress Sharon to do the announcing. She is a large lady with a deep tenor voice that purrs like the song of a cat.
Natalia, in her excitement, signed up to enter every event of the day and was competing on one of my own stallions – Strongboy. My friend is not the most experienced of riders – far from it. She does, however, possess a natural talent for equine pursuits. Strongboy himself is equally inexperienced but Natalia selected him herself and would not be dissuaded. She has developed a particular affinity for huge, sturdy, chestnut stallions.
As she mounted her ride, a young stable lass handed her a swishy black schooling whip, adding the advice that she would have to take a firm hand with the stallion. Natalia poked out her heels to display a wicked set of swan-necked spurs and the lass let go of the reins, pleased that Strongboy was not going to be mollycoddled.
I have no doubt that many women would have had a mount as frisky as Strongboy gelded without a second thought; not me. It’s hard to explain but I dislike having that cruel operation performed on studs; there are other, lesser animals far more deserving of it.
Gripping the leather tightly in her slim fingers with their little red manicured nails, and using all the strength she could muster in her slender arms, Natalia tugged hard back on the reins. The stallion jumped and stamped with the sudden shock. Natalia, being only a novice rider, did not at first realise the sharpness and severity of the bit which the lass had fitted to the unruly mount. Rather than loosen her grip, she determined to bring the horse to heel, giving it six very sharp cracks across its rump with her whip.
The large beast, with terror in its eyes, stood still, rattling the bit ferociously in its foaming mouth. Natalia smiled and casually slipped on her sunglasses.
A sharp dig with both spurs and Strongboy moved forward at a steady walk, Natalia holding the reins firmly as she guided the horse from the saddling enclosure. Many ladies had gathered around the practice jumping ring where riders of all shapes and sizes, riding mounts of all shapes and sizes, were warming up.
The warmest thing on display, observed one lady, must be the horses bottoms as they were receiving ample doses of the whip for any refusals or misbehaviour.
With everyone gathered around the practice ring to view the jockettes preparing (and place any bets) I was a little perturbed that nobody seemed to notice, or to care, that the jumping poles were not held aloft by conventional wooden uprights. Whilst designing the practise arena earlier in the day I had hit on the idea of using naked male slaves who had the poles tied about their necks, right under the chin. This effect was wasted on the ladies who seemed to think that there was nothing unusual in the mounting.
A young, mysterious, blonde girl wearing jodhpurs and no top cleared a practice fence with inches to spare, then indicated for the supervising stable lasses to raise the pole. An ambitious request, I thought, considering that her small, ugly, pale-bay gelding was already struggling. The crouching male posts were ordered to stand up a little straighter and the lasses manhandled them into place, thrashing their rumps until the pole between them was exactly level.
Natalia was soon at the front of the queue and ready to make her first practice jump. Pushing her chest forward, digging the spurs into her steed and giving it two encouraging smacks on the rump with her whip, she accelerated rapidly towards the fence. The stallion seemed wrong-footed and she angrily gave him a spank. Charging towards the fence, Strongboy hesitated and came in right under the jump. His hooves sliced into the air and whacked the pole on the way up.
The pole and upright posts flew upwards then crashed backwards into the dust. In the confusion, Strongboy span around and stamped down, catching one of the fence posts wildly in the groin.
Natalia was livid. She used the whip on her disobedient mount again and again. She then shrieked at the stable lasses that the fence posts had moved just as she was about to jump. In her anger, she rode deliberately across the males who were still groaning in the dirt.
The stable lasses attempted to whip the posts up from the ground, but to no avail: one of the males had suffered irreparable damage to the area between his legs and was insisting on making a shrill fuss about it. He had to be silenced, which made his undamaged partner equally redundant.
More posts had to be sent for. In fact it turned out that several posts were ruined during the practice rounds and had to be replaced. No matter – I can always get hold of more.
Natalia was drawn tenth out of fifteen competitors in the novice jumping. She practised relentlessly on Strongboy before going off with the other ladies to walk the course.
I had spent my time (and ingenuity) constructing twenty fences each cleverly (I think) devised by using naked male fence posts and equally exposed male fill- ins.
The first fence was a straight forward cross-pole. Hitched along the length of the pole, however, were three inverted males. Their arms were tethered wide apart and each had its ankles tied to those of the next so that their legs were all splayed wide apart. As the riders looked at the obstacle, Natalia fiddled the tip of her whip around a male’s cock and balls. She looked across to me and called out: “Vicky, you clever darling, these little things will certainly be bashed to kingdom come if any hooves catch them.” The observation was the signal for a chorus of raucous laughter from the other riders. The blonde girl in particular seemed to be smiling broadly, relishing the commencement of the event.
The second fence was my interpretation of a water jump. Instead of a pool of water being situated immediately behind the fence, a number of males are spread- eagled, face up, on the ground, held down with pegs. This meant that should a young ladies mount not jump long enough, one or more of the males would be flattened.
I lit a cigarette as the riders went on to one of my favourite hurdles: the straddle fence. This obstacle consisted of two males, each suspended from a tall upright post by one of his ankles. Each male’s other leg was stretched out at a right angle to his body so that it was horizontal. The two horizontal legs were lashed together at the ankle to form a spread over which the horses could jump.
The slaves were positioned so as to face the oncoming rider, presenting their sets of cocks and balls so that any mistiming on a lady’s behalf would result in the post suffering permanent damage. Naturally the ring crew had many replacement posts standing by. Another tricky fence was the roasting spit. A horizontal male was mounted on a pole between two uprights, and a second slave at one end had to use a handle to revolve the pole, just like a roasting spit. The male tied to the spit had his body adorned with brightly coloured ribbons which I hoped would serve to distract approaching steeds confusing them and making them attempt to avoid the jump.
Good riders would be able to propel their mounts into the fence by use of whip, spur and voice, thus convincing their animals jump it. I envisaged that many would refuse whilst others would quite simply crash into the fence. Either way, it was designed to provide a great deal of amusement for the ladies in the crowd.
The most popular fence with the riders was a simple cross pole with a row of males bent across it and tied so that their posteriors were sticking up into the air.
Natalia and some of the other girls could not resist giving these vulnerable rumps a few playful cracks with their whips. The popularity of the fence puzzled me because it had been by far the easiest to design and construct.
Near the end of the course there was an obstacle made up, again, like a standard cross pole fence, except that males were tethered upside down at either end. Their legs were splayed with the ends of the pole resting on their groins. If the stout wooden post were to be nudged by a competitor it would obviously rise up into the air and then crash back down directly between the open legs. The results in tests were very gratifying.
Natalia and the other girls returned to the practice ring to give their mounts one more round. Once again, the mysterious blonde girl had the practice fences raised. As she kicked on and drove her mount with whip and spur the animal sped towards the jump. It was a beautiful sight to see the powerful mistress atop the sweating gelding galloping towards the cringing, pallid males. Thinking thus I grinned, watching the pale-bay which the blonde girl launched at the obstacle before it.
There was a clutter and a crash as its legs hit the dull structure and sent the entire construction flying, posts and all. Digging her mount sharply with her spur, she turned the disobedient animal and yanked on the reins, drawing him to a halt. She was wielding a very heavy, sturdy plaited riding crop which she brought down with enormous force on the beast’s flank. I walked over to stand beside Natalia and we both watched as the blonde girl’s boobs swung frantically to and fro whilst she thrashed the gelding with a vengeance. Meanwhile the crushed and battered fence posts were quickly dragged away and replaced with fresh ones.
The gathered ladies all began to applaud the blonde girl’s administration of the whip. She commented with a huge grin that: “Firm discipline is the secret of successful riding.” A glance at Natalia confirmed to me that this was a fact that she found entirely acceptable.
With the fence reconstructed, Natalia was determined to show off her prowess as a novice horsewoman. Her long, thin whip struck her mount’s rump repeatedly and she charged towards the fence. She lost her breath as the chestnut beast flew up into the air and sailed easily over the jump. As its hooves landed heavily into the yielding earth beyond, Natalia’s crotch fell hard onto the saddle and slid along its length. I know from experience (what horsewoman doesn’t?) that the smooth leather feels soft as it rubs along one’s sex and buttocks. My young friend was excited by this new delight and continued to ski backwards and forwards along the seat as she reined back her mount.
Natalia rode slowly off in no particular direction, seemingly in a daze. The blonde girl noticed and directed her mount to follow. I was too far away to hear what was spoken but it was rounded off with a pretty kiss, the blonde leaning over and planting her lips lengthily on a not unwilling cheek.
I watched a black-gloved hand reach instinctively to Natalia’s crotch. I could only imagine the slender fingers caressing and fiddling as their juicy tongues began to roll frantically around one and other, their lips pressed firmly together. Natalia’s movements suggested a little gasp and she reached out to fondle the large firm breasts which swung freely before her. I hoped that the sucking, licking and rubbing would not leave Natalia’s jodhpurs visibly wet between the legs…
But who would have cared?
As suddenly as she had begun, the blonde girl pulled back, with Natalia trying desperately not to let her go. A huge smile came over the predator’s face. She raised her crop and whacked it down across her gelding, sending the creature off like a rocket towards the fence. Natalia was rubbing her probably knickerless pussy through her thin jodhpurs, watching proudly as her new friend approached and leapt over the practice jump, clearing it by an easy two feet. The competition in the main jumping ring soon got into full flow. Natalia and the blonde, waiting their turn, trotted their steeds over in my direction and I was introduced to the mystery competitor. Her name, it turned out, is Lorraine and she is the youngest daughter of a certain Lady Clarissa with whom I am vaguely acquainted.
She revealed a plummy English accent which made both Natalia and I positively ooze with delight. My young friend seemed clearly to be in awe of Lorraine. Such a body, such a face, with piercing dark eyes which could melt or destroy any young, impressionable creature.
Before the relationship could develop further an announcement was made over the P.A. system and Lorraine’s number was called. Like an adolescent schoolgirl with a crush on the head prefect, Natalia wished her friend all the luck in the world.
Lorraine sliced her whip in a long arc and brought it down with a resounding crack on the mount’s hide. With steel grating on teeth and tongue, the beast lined itself up on the starting line. One sharp dig with the spurs, one firm stroke with the whip and the animal was hurtling forwards, driving on towards fence number one. Natalia started to pant as Lorraine’s bum left the saddle and was raised high into the air in all its glory for everyone to ogle.
At the last moment Lorraine seemed to lose concentration and a hoof dropped low. There was a thud. The arena filled with a shrill scream and a great cheer came up from the crowd all around me. Girls were turning to me and saying things like “Well done, brilliant design.” Lorraine looked back to see whether the fence would fall or had merely been rattled. The centre support shuffled about, desperately trying to sustain balance of the horizontal pole. A moment later the entire fence collapsed in a heap and a great, sad sigh arose from the ladies of the audience. Lorraine was livid that the fence had dared to fall. She ground her teeth and snarled for her mount to wake up, then gave it half a dozen lashes in quick succession.
The next few fences went better for the blonde but the roasting spit caused another problem. She charged towards the fence and, at the last moment, the pale- bay suddenly shied off. It bucked in the air and before Lorraine could bring the wretched beast to heel, it threw her clean off its back.
Natalia jumped from her horse and ran as fast as she could to see if Lorraine was all right. The gelding took the opportunity to run off and had to be caught by a couple of stable lasses.
Lorraine jumped to her feet, her breasts and jodhpurs covered in dust. Unashamedly, Natalia gave her a tight hug and kissed her fully on the lips.
Again a great cheer rose from the crowd as Lorraine picked up her whip and marched in the direction of her wayward steed. Tapping the thick crop menacingly down the side of her boot, she waited while the stable girls got a good grip on the bridle, bringing the animal under control. The crowd gave voice to their admiration for her pluck as the dusty blonde bravely climbed back aboard her mount and slipped her boots into the stirrups. With great pride Natalia watched her friend rein back the unruly beast without a hint of fear or hesitation.
After lifting her crop high in the air above her head, Lorraine swirled it round and round in a gesture which amply demonstrated that no animal alive would defeat, dominate, or disobey her. I noticed, as, no doubt, did Natalia, that it was not only the whip that was rotating round and round – so were the girl’s delightful breasts.
It was with a firm hand, a cast iron determination and an unshakeable pride that Lorraine finished the rest of the course faultlessly. As the blonde rode out from the ring the spectators applauded appreciatively. She hauled back on the reins, stood her gelding between. Natalia and myself, and dismounted.
Natalia instinctively wiped the dust from Lorraine’s breasts, then knelt down and licks them squeaky clean.
Without shame or inhibition, Natalia slipped her thumbs into the waistband of Lorraine’s jodhpurs and slowly slid them down across the soft, silky buttocks. Her tongue gently flicked at the wispy bush in between the blonde’s legs. Lorraine responded affectionately by stroking Natalia’s hair, then gently pushed her head away. Feeling that she must have upset her new-found friend, Natalia displayed a worried pout, but with a beautiful big smile and deep wet kiss, Lorraine explained that she had some unfinished business to deal with.
They both got onto their steeds. Lorraine took the lead, Natalia following with no idea what her friend intended.
They rode to the stable block and returned a few minutes later, each bearing one of the bullwhips that I stock there. Uncoiled, the heavy whips are about twelve feet long and made from very finely plaited leather. They paused in front of me and I watched Natalia copying Lorraine who was tying a series of little knots into the last foot of the whip, giving extra weight to the tip.
I turned to a couple of stable lasses standing nearby and gave them some instructions. Soon the fence post which had fallen when tipped by Lorraine’s horse was goaded into the centre of a fenced area by the lithe-limbed teenagers. He was having difficulty in walking (some problem with the parts between his thighs, I expect) and had to be kicked and whipped to keep him moving. When they had him in the centre of the paddock, the two stable girls looked over, waving and smiling to indicate his readiness.
Slapping her gelding with the coiled bullwhip, Lorraine galloped off towards the dizzy male. A second behind her, Natalia whipped her mount and pursued hotly.
The male was quite rightly frightened but made no attempt to get out of the way. Lorraine licked her lips and sent the whip cracking out with a noise like thunder. It cut into him and she galloped past. There was a scream and, with Natalia riding in ready to repeat the blow, he span to one side to avoid the stinging slap from her whip. Much to Natalia’s annoyance the whip flicked wastefully into the dust.
Lorraine turned her mount on a sixpence and quickly galloping back towards the male who suddenly seemed to understand the danger he was in. He turned to run, peering over his shoulder as Lorraine caught up with him from behind. She sliced the whip round and round like a helicopter blade, whooping excitedly.
With a swift downward turn of her arm she lashed the whip diagonally across his back.
Determined not to be outdone, Natalia rode in on her chestnut stallion for a strike of her own.
Once again, the male jumped away as her whip lunged out and thwacked into the dust. The chase really began to heat up with the stupid male running this way and that in his attempts to evade the whips.
Eventually he fell flat on his face, allowing Natalia to hare in and catch him a swinging blow across his rump and legs.
Quickly scrambling to his feet he ran until he could run no more.
Exhausted he stood before the two ladies on horseback, his rebellion confined to a shiver, his eyes awash with fear.
Lorraine began to laugh. Natalia likewise. Their laughter became loud and uncontrolled, and all of us in the audience went silent, anticipating the magnificent denouement.
Lorraine sent her whipcord streaking out and it cracked as it made contact with the flesh on his neck. In an instant it had snaked three times around his throat.
She jerked it backwards and he began to choke as it tightened.
The blonde girl quickly tied the handle end of her whip around her saddle and the male tried desperately to grip the leather to stop himself being throttled. Natalia gave the sitting target two good slashes of her whip across his shoulders.
Yanking her mount round, Lorraine sharply dug in her spurs and charged off at a gallop. By now Natalia was laughing and cheering excitedly (as we all were) to see the male being dragged by the neck across the paddock, his flesh being torn and bruised. The pale-bay gelding may have been small and ugly but his strength was augmented by the encouraging threats of his beautiful owner. After a few moments the male’s screams abated.
Lorraine and Natalia simultaneously dismounted. They jointly kicked him in the sides but there was no audible response. Together they rolled him over with their boots so that he was laid on his back. Standing between his ankles, Lorraine kicked open his legs so that they were stretched wide apart. His equipment had already been softened by the kick it had received from the blonde’s steed during the competition.
Lorraine loudly assured Natalia and the audience that if there is a breath of life in a male then there is one sure way to find out. With a cruel glint in her eye and a satisfied lick of her lips, the blonde stood back, took deliberate aim then launched the toecap of her heavy boot right in between his legs. There was a dull thud followed instantaneously by a shriek.
Natalia moved up behind Lorraine and cuddled her, cupping those delightful breasts in her hands, rubbing the nipples and gently kissing the blonde girl’s smooth shoulders. Then, whilst still in this position, she too swung back her leg and let fly a kick into the male’s worthless tackle. The target screamed again, so the two girls laughed madly and began to kick him and kick him repeatedly.
When, sadly, the screaming ceased, Lorraine reached out to Natalia and ripped off her shirt. Jodhpurs also were mutually torn away and the pair fell to the ground and rolled passionately about in the dust, fingering, sucking, fondling and squealing with delight.
After watching THAT for half an hour, I really needed to sit down on someone and light a cigarette.