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Spring Break
Ch 7
While Maria and I enjoyed our coffee, we were joined by a couple of friends. Elizabeth Townesly and Carol Delk entered the coffee shop. They are both quite well to do and are inseparable. They have been friends since kindergarten and the joke in the county is that no one has ever seen one without the other. Most people have no idea how true that actually is.
Elizabeth and Carol have been a matched team of pony girls since high school, almost thirty years now.
Carol was first tied up by her high school sweetheart when she was seventeen, and she and her boyfriend quickly moved on to pony girl slavery. He'd found an old John Willie magazine and they were intrigued by the drawings of pony girls. She loved it so much that she blabbed to Elizabeth and Elizabeth wanted to play too. They talked Carol's boyfriend into letting her join in, and for a while the lucky young man had two very cute and eager teen aged pony slaves.
Tragically, he died in a yachting accident a few months before he and Carol were to be married. He had tied them together, so they had experienced lesbian sex, and for a while they made do tying each other up. Several years later Elizabeth married her husband Tony, who is a masterful man and he resumed her pony training. Elizabeth told Tony about Carol and he brought her into his stable.
He exhibited them as a matched pair until a handsome gentleman from Boston named Eric saw them at a race meet and offered to buy Carol. For her part, Carol fell in love the moment she set eyes on Eric and begged Tony to sell her to him. He did and they have lived happily ever since. They now live between Texas and Boston and the island of Curacao in the Caribbean.
Tony and Eric became friends and kept the practice of pairing their wives. Carol and Elizabeth have competed in pony events all over the world. At their age they no longer run in races but they still win awards in dressage, beauty, and dance competitions, and their husbands still get offers to sell them.
Now in their late forties they've taken on the name "The Gray Mares". Constant exercise has kept their bodies firm and trim, and thirty years of constant practice has made their performances absolute perfection. They still turn heads whether on the street or in harness.
I waved at them to join us and we made the required kissing noises an inch from each others' cheeks. Carol noticed the rope marks on my neck.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say that someone has been hanging you," she said as she sat down. I smiled sweetly at her.
"We still hang cattle thieves in these parts," Elizabeth said. "Have you been rustling cattle, or have you found a new master?"
"No cattle," I said, "But if it will get me hanged maybe I ought to take it up."
"Oh my dear, they would hang you naked on the courthouse lawn, in front of the whole town," Elizabeth said.
"If that were true, half the women in town would be out stealing cows," Maria said.
We all laughed.
"Seriously, who has been torturing you?" Carol asked, she paused and peered at Maria's bosom. Maria pulled her blouse aside a few inches to reveal the whip marks on her breasts.
"Ok, who's been torturing both of you?" Carol asked.
"We have a new padrone," Maria said. "Mark is coming into his age."
Elizabeth and Carol looked at me in astonishment.
"Your son has been whipping you?" Elizabeth asked.
I nodded proudly.
We told the girls about Mark and Tom and their friends. They gasped when they heard that we were being tortured by college boys for an entire week, and Carol wore a glazed look by the time we finished..
"Do you think we might drop by some afternoon, before your guests leave?" she asked. "We have a new set of harness to show off."
"Its gray leather with silver mountings," Elizabeth added. "And our husbands have several sets of wigs made to go with it."
"Why wigs?" I asked. Their hair was still a rich reddish brown, and they kept it tinted exactly the same shade.
"Our husbands think the wigs will emphasize our age," Carol said wryly. "To go with the Gray Mares name. They bought us white, gray and light blue ones."
Maria and I shrieked with laughter. I could just imagine two blue haired grandmothers prancing naked in pony harness.
"They make us look twenty years older," Elizabeth grumbled.
"My husband says the idea of grandmothers in slavery appeals to some of the more perverse people in the scene," Carol said. "As if there aren't enough perverse people involved already."
"I have to admit that it is fun," Elizabeth said. "We get a lot of surprised looks when they put us on display. The gray wigs catch peoples' eyes."
I reached across the table and patted her breast. "Don't worry, your boobs are still firm enough to
offset any gray wig."
"Thank God for small favors," Elizabeth said.
"Big favors, I'd say," Maria commented, eyeing Elizabeth's breasts appreciatively. Elizabeth shook them at her.
"Your daughter is in high school, isn't she?" Carol asked. "Is your son training her to be a pony?" Carol asked.
"Not really," I replied. "They boys have put her and her cousin into harness but don't really know how to train them. The girls need an experienced master."
"Hmmmm, perhaps we could suggest that our husbands train your girls," Carol said. "And loan us to your boys in trade."
"Oooooh, I like that idea," Elizabeth said.
"Our guests are only here until Sunday," I laughed. "That's not enough time to train pony girls."
"It could be a start," Elizabeth said. "The boys could have us until they leave, and our husbands would enjoy having two young slave girls.
"All right," I said. "I'll ask the girls, and see if my son approves."
"Just ask Mark," Maria commented. "He is the master, the girls are slaves, they have no say in the matter."
Carol looked at her in surprise. "Maria, does your husband torture you?" Carol asked her.
"No, he has no idea that I am a slave," Maria answered.
"Even after all these years?"
"Not a clue."
"What about the rest of your family?"
"I think my youngest daughter suspects," Maria shrugged. "But she has never said anything."
"Well, if you ever want to join our stable, just say the word," Carol said, patting Maria's hand. "Our masters would be proud to have to have you,"
"And so would we," Elizabeth added emphatically.
"Thank you ladies," Maria said, looking at me. "But I am very happy where I am."
On the drive home Maria stretched contentedly in the car.
"I am glad that Mark is becoming strong," she said. "Soon we will be whipped the way women ought to be whipped."
I was faintly troubled by the thought of my little boy growing up.
"I don't want him to feel so responsible for us that he doesn't go out and find his own slave girl."
"Mark will be the padrone soon," Maria said. "He will meet his responsibilities, but don't worry, he will place his brand on his own woman someday."
I shrugged.
"And soon he will learn to use "El Toro," Maria said dreamily.
My mouth dropped open. "El Toro" is a twelve foot bullwhip. It tapers from a heavy thick handle to a tiny merciless tip as fine as fishing line. That whip is literally capable of taming a wild bull, and it could kill a woman.
I have only seen one other whip that is more terrible. On a trip to Africa my husband bought a Kurbash, the legendary Arab whip made of rhinoceros hide. The kurbash was made to subdue people, to terrify slave populations, not for the erotic whipping of women. The kurbash can cut through skin and muscle like a hunting knife. It can break bones.
We were on safari and were camped near a small village. A local offered the whip to my husband. John whipped me only once with the kurbash. He strung me up naked and whipped me while the villagers watched. I screamed my throat raw before I fainted from the pain. I could not speak or walk for days, and he never used it on me again. It hangs in the torture barn and I shudder every time I walk past it.
El Toro is perhaps five percent less terrible.
"Mark is not trained with that whip," I told Maria. "His father died before he could teach him how to use it. It could kill you unless used correctly. You could die under that whip."
She spread her legs and lifted her skirt. Her hand slipped into her panties.
"Yes, but what a way to die," she murmured. "To die under the Padrone's magnificent whip, naked in the orgasm while people watch." Her free hand caressed her throat. "Perhaps he would hang me while he whips me to death."
My pussy flashed white hot. Yes, that would be one hell of a way to die! I yanked my skirt up and played with my pussy as I drove. Beside me, Maria slipped her panties off and tossed them out the window. Mine followed. Some truck drivers got a hell of a sight that afternoon.
"Even though your son will be the new master, I will force him to tame me, " Maria said after she had masturbated to a sweet orgasm. "I will antagonize him into a rage and I will defy him until he conquers me with the Toro whip."
"Perhaps I will too," I thought to myself. The whip terrifies me, but it excites me.
When we got home the boys were hanging Anne and Kathy. The girls' bodies were crisscrossed with welts. Kathy was sobbing, whether with pain or passion I couldn't tell. Anne had a dreamy expression on her face. I pulled Mark aside and told him about Maria's comments about El Toro.
"Jeez, Mom. I can't whip anybody with that thing," he said. "I don't know how to use it yet."
I hugged him tightly. "I'll speak to your grandfather and ask if he will train you and Tom on the bull whip."
"Do you think he'll let us practice on Grandma?" he grinned. "She likes the big whips."
"You'll have to ask her," I replied. "But in the meantime, why not practice on us with the lighter whips? You can get out a basket of clothes pins."
"Later, Mom," he said. "For now I think we'll hang you and Maria along with the girls. Take your clothes off."
They spent the evening hanging and fucking us. But the next morning they tied us to posts and practiced snapping clothespins off our nipples with whips. They started with buggy whips, then worked their way up to the light bull whips. They tied Maria and the girls very tightly, but to reward me for suggesting the idea, the boys put me on a teeter board.
What's a teeter board? Normally a slave girl is tied tightly to a post during whip practice. A merciful master will tie her so securely that she can't move. This keeps his target steady and reduces the accidental blows to her breasts.
A teeter board does just the opposite. Its a small seesaw beneath the slave's feet. Its impossible to stand still on one, so there is a lot of jiggling and the slave's breasts catch a lot of the whip. My breasts were raw by the end of the day.
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