Summer School & After School: The Ponygirl Omnibus Edition by Jurgen von Stuka

turned and left the cold cellar room with a puff
of acrid cigar smoke hanging in the cold cellar air as she exited. After
setting Samson’s controls to give the girl the ride of her life, the
instructors too left. They filed out of the room, locked the door and went
upstairs where they’d watch the show on video from the six cameras mounted
throughout the basement room.
    Dori had no idea
what she was going to do now. The room was brightly lit, but there was no sound
and nothing for her to see as she stared at the overhead beams in the old barn.
She tried to move but found that any movement sent waves of pain and other
feelings from the impaling shafts that filled her lower body. She couldn’t lean
back because of the steel strut and there was no way to lean forward because of
the straps holding her to the strut. The single sleeve pulled her hands back
toward Samson’s tail, and up until now, she had not even considered the
possibility that the horse could move. Furthermore, she could not have
anticipated the extent of movement that such as device could and would produce once
activated.
    Dori focused on
her multiple discomforts one at a time. Over the last few days, she had
adjusted slowly to the constant strain on her arms as they were held behind,
her forearms together and elbows touching most of the time. The bridle was an
annoyance, and not being able to see beyond the binders and always looking
upwards was unpleasant and painful as time went on. The grooms and instructors
released her head and arm bondage periodically and allowed for some exercise,
but the positions were a terrible trial. Her legs went numb during the long
periods inside the breeches’ single leggings and the bridle, bit and gag plug
were little more than annoying inhibitors. Until she mounted the horse, she had
stoically endured the torments of the strange apparel and bondage, but this
“riding lesson,” like dinner the first night and her odd sleeping arrangements,
was yet another twist. The personal attention of the head mistress was an
unnerving assault and she was confounded when the training crew exited the
downstairs room and left her mounted on the horse and riding two throbbing
dildos.
    Considering
this, Dori thought she felt a brief shudder through the heavy leather saddle
and the probes. For a second, the entire horse seemed to vibrate and another mild
ripple seemed to shake the mechanical breast. Samson was starting the ride.

Chapter
Seven
    Reducing the Double D

 
 
    Unknown to Dori , her new pal Winnie was riding too. In the smaller of
the two indoor riding rings on the property, Winnie sat in a standard English
saddle, her polished black boots in shiny chrome stirrups and a pair of leather
reins resting lightly in her hands. Her small mount shuddered every few moments
and waited impatiently for a movement or command that would direct it to yet
another exercise in the dusty ring. Winnie tensed her upper legs just a bit,
compressing the flanks of her mount between her knees and the pony moved slowly
forward towards a low rail, preparing to jump. Winnie, her black safety cap
pulled tightly down almost to the point where the brim met her perfect nose,
squinted in the harsh artificial overhead lighting, trying to judge the
distance to the jump. The pony began to drift to the right and Winnie corrected
with a bit of leg and rein, tugging slightly on the double snaffle and pulling
the pony’s tossing head back towards center and the jump. The pony over
compensated and drifted left. Again Winnie corrected, this time using her crop
smartly on the rounded muscular rump behind her. The pony jogged slowly towards
the inevitable jump and then, at the last second, as if someone had slammed on
the brakes, stopped in its tracks, ducked its head and straightened its hind
legs. Winnie flew out of the saddle and landed a few inches short of the jump
rail, dust filling her open mouth and the ring’s pungent mixture of sawdust,
dirt and manure