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PUNISHMENT 120 – Part
14, ponyboy interlude
“Who goes first? Why, you
do, of course,” laughed Della, and with a firm shove she pushed the officer in
charge of training at Punishment Park flat on her back and in a second she had
strapped the big-busted beauty’s right ankle into a loop and saw that the strap
automatically tightened.
Helga laughed as Della
reached over to her left ankle and similarly immobilised it, and while the
glorious blonde was doing that the training officer reached up and obligingly
placed her right wrist in a loop and watched as the rubber gathered around it.
“My last remaining limb,
please, you bossy bitch,” said the light-haired Punishment Park official, and
Della obliged, helping the woman get totally strapped down by placing her left
wrist into the rubber restraint.
Quickly, Della pulled off
her jacket, leaving herself clad only in the scandalously brief miniskirt, and
then she fell on the bed, her mouth starting its work on the bondaged beauty’s left ankle, then planting kiss after kiss
on her lovely firm calf, then the inner left thigh.
Although she was mere inches
from the superbly-scented, sex-perfumed paradise that was Helga’s quim, Della
delayed the cunnilingual caress, instead dropping
back to the bound woman’s right ankle, then calf, then inner thigh.
Finally, the blonde could
restrain herself no longer, and with a deep inhalation of musky perfume, she
dived on the inviting, broad-lipped labia, thick with the German’s slippery sex
juice.
A gasp of “Fuck that’s
great!” escaped from Helga’s lips and although she was bound to the
rubber-sheeted bed, the woman’s strong thighs pressed onto the TV star’s
cheeks, trapping her in the musky minge.
Della worked quickly, she
loved the sweet taste of sopping snatch, but as she licked, kissed and nibbled
at the bondaged bitch’s quim, she felt stirrings in
her own pussy which were soon going to demand satisfaction.
Increasing her work rate,
the 40-year-old’s mouth was soon flashing over the German’s cunt and labia, and
then, with a grip of her lips on the clitoris, Della brought the Punishment
Park executive closer and closer to climax until, with a yelled “Yaaargh!” the German bucked and heaved beneath the
sweat-stained mouth and came with a roar.
Della softly kissed the
trembling labia, but it was perfunctory. She had urgent needs of her own now.
“That’s you seen to,” panted
Della, moving from between the woman’s thighs, “now it’s my turn!”
Kneeling, one knee on each
side of Helga’s face, Della pulled her miniskirt up to her belly and pressed
her lovely snatch onto the German’s mouth.
She knew her minge was wet, and the initial sounds made by the officer
beneath her were of a distinctly lapping nature, but as soon as the German had
slurped down the excess of sex juice and started to perform exquisite
cunnilingus, the lapping sounds died and were replaced by soft sucking noises
as the strapped-down beauty performed her exciting task.
In no less than two minutes,
it might have been even quicker, Della started to feel the tremors of an orgasm
swelling in her pussy, then the thrill of having her clitoris sucked by a
strong, naked woman tumbled her over the edge to a threshing, throbbing,
shouting completion.
After Della and helped the
training officer get free from the bondage bed, they caressed. “How often you
get a work out on this thing?” asked Della, as the German bitch got back into
her breast-thrusting bustier.
“Every day, if I can manage
it,” said Helga. “There’s always a willing guard trainer to help me get rid of
my sexual frustrations.”
“You always end up in the
straps?” laughed Della.
“Nearly always, especially
for a woman like you,” said Helga. “And the CDs love to get me on my back in
here.”
“The CDs?” asked Della.
“Hmm, I’ve had a fling with one of them, but there are some I can’t say I’d
fancy poking it to me on there!”
Helga laughed. “Let me see
now, you’ve ‘had a fling’ as you so quaintly put it with Staci, I bet.”
Della nodded.
“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?”
said Helga, only it wasn’t really a question, more a statement. “But the one
you wouldn’t fancy would be the muscle-bound Georgie,
eh? Still, she’s got a great cock!”
When Della had her jacket
back on, and had slipped her feet into her high heels, the training officer
smiled. “Right, let’s go find out how Sadie’s making out with
that young slut, Simpson.”
The door leading to the ponyboy practice area featured a large color
photograph of a young lad pulling a pony cart. Seated in the cart was a naked
Priscilla Payne, naked but for knee-high boots and a broad-brimmed black
leather hat.
The cart she was seated in
was being dragged by a slave naked but for his hobnailed boots. The slave’s
body gleamed with perspiration, his right knee was high, his
thigh level with the dusty ground, and his cock was sporting a magnificent
erection.
“Nice picture,” murmured
Della, as Helga opened the door.
“One of our better ponyboys,” said the training officer, “strong as a fuckin’ ox, or perhaps a carthorse!”
Walking down the corridor,
Helga peered through a glass aperture at a room called “Prancing Practice” and
nodded. “Here they are.”
Inside, Della and Helga
found a sweaty slave, totally nude, prancing on a treadmill machine. Behind his
hotly perspiring body stood Sadie, the grabber in one hand, a narrow leather
lash in the other.
Simpson, Della noticed, had
striped red marks across his finely-built upper back, and also across his
glorious buns. The cockslut’s wrists were dragged
behind his neck and cuffed to a leather slave collar.
“Halt!” shouted Sadie,
pressing a booted toe onto a brake which halted the movement of the treadmill.
She looked lovely, Della
thought, wearing a red leather bikini, which revealed large expanses of breasts
at the side of the narrow cups, and a bottom which left her buttocks bare. She
was wearing matching red leather booties, which came to just above her ankles.
The slave grimaced and let
out a grunt as the girl behind him punctuated her “Halt!” command with a
squeeze on the grabber.
“How’s he coming along?”
asked Helga, as she walked in front of the panting slut, and started stroking
his lovely, uncut cock.
“Very nicely,” said Sadie,
wiping perspiration from her forehead with the back on her non-grabber hand.
“He’s getting a lovely high thigh action – wanna see
it, ma’am?”
Helga continued stroking the
lad’s prick. “Sure, but wait till I get him hard, and then you can display his
prancing – I love it when they have a stiffy waving around during a prance!”
Della watched until
Simpson’s pretty penis had risen to its full nine-inch glory, then Helga nodded to her trainer-guard.
“He’s all yours again,
Sadie,” she called, and the low buzzing of the treadmill resumed as the trainer
pressed her boot onto the mechanism to get the mill back to speed.
The lad began prancing, bringing
his thighs smartly high, just above the horizontal with each prance, his thick
prick waving wildly as he continued his exertions.
“Fuck,” said Helga,
impressed, “that’s some prick this cunt child’s got! Lovely, they won’t be able
to keep their hands off him!”
“They?” asked Della.
“The CDs,” laughed Helga.
“Fuck, they’re gonna love this slut!”
Helga and Della watched on
as the boy, perspiring freely again, continued his prancing efforts, encouraged
every now and by a cracking slap of Sadie’s whip across his bare back or
buttocks.
The lad was torture-pranced
for about five minutes until his cock was now flapping around, but pointing
directly to his feet, rather than up at his chin, when Sadie snapped “Halt
slut!” and squeezed the grabber, bringing a yelp from the 16-year-old.
“He’s doing well, and now I
think it’s time he started to find out what it’s like to be in harness, eh,
ma’am?” asked Sadie, above the boy’s puffing pants.
“Great idea,” said Helga.
“Get him harnessed to a sulky and bring him into the training ring.”
“Come on Della, let’s go and
wait for Sadie to bring him out.”
Helga led Della into large
sort of indoor arena, with a four-lane track of some springy surface, not
unlike the artificial turf used in baseball parks about a century ago.
On one wall was a long sort
of stand, with comfortable chairs. Helga and Della sat back and waited for the
trainer to arrive with the tyro ponyboy.
They didn’t have to wait
long. Soon, a door swung open by some remote mechanism, and into the arena pranced the naked Simpson, only now looking different from
when he was merely on the prancing treadmill.
Gone was his grabber and he
was sporting a thick, mouth-watering erection, Della saw, which may have been
helped by a butt plug which had been inserted in his anus, to display a thick,
dark black ponytail. On his feet with shiny black leather running boots, shaped
at the front like a horse’s hooves.
His wrists were strapped to
the two shafts of a little sulky, such as those used by drivers of pacers.
Seated on the leather saddle was Sadie, her crotch gleaming where the red
rubber of her bikini just covered her pretty pussy.
She held in one hand reins
which went to a red rubber bridle and bit arrangement in the pony slave’s
mouth. Blinkers had been strapped to the sides of his head to keep him staring
straight ahead.
In her rein-free hand, Sadie
clutched a lovely, slender and vicious-looking buggy whip, which must have been
about four feet long – exactly long enough for her to stripe the lad’s upper back
as a signal to increase his pace.
Helga nodded approvingly.
“He looks every inch a ponyslut,” she said. “That Sex
Sinema pony program will want this lad!”
Sadie made the sweating
slave strut around the arena for four, high-thighed
pacing laps, at just a walk, then she clicked her buggy whip onto his striped
back and announced: “Pick up the pace, cunt!”
The ponyboy
obeyed, going slightly faster, this time for some five laps, until a slash of
the buggy whip across his lovely buns and a shouted “Faster, sprint, you cunt!”
command came from the lovely blonde trainer.
The lad’s legs flashed,
gleaming in the strong lighting in the arena, his cock waving madly as he
increased the tempo to satisfy his strict young trainer, and after a couple of
laps at breakneck speed, the blonde flogged his upper back to slow him back to
a canter, then a leisurely, high-prancing stroll until she reined him to a halt
in front of the interested two spectators.
“May I have a little chat
with the cockslut?” asked Della, as the lad stood
there, snorting and panting from his punishing laps around the ponyboy arena.
“Go ahead,” smiled Helga,
and Della strode in front of the lad, pulled her jacket lapels back and rubbed
her glorious breasts, the nipples erect, against his sweating, heaving flesh.
“Nice work out, ponyboy?” asked Della, with a sweet smile, taking his
flaccid cock in her right hand and stroking it slowly.
“Yeth,
thank-you, mithtreth,” the slave lisped.
“Like your lovely little
trainer, do you, cunt?” asked Della, still smiling at the handsome young
teenager.
“Yeth,
theeth’s lovely, mithtreth,”
came the reply from the still heaving-chested youth.
“Looking forward to her
training you, eh boy?” Della asked, feeling the boy’s cock thickening in her
grasp.
“Oh, yeth,
mithtreth, theeth tho thweet,” said the speech-impedimented
youngster.
“Want her to train you up to
the standard of a Punishment 120 slave, do you?” she asked, licking her tongue
across his slippery cheek, tasting the salty sweat.
“Yeth,
pleeth, mithtreth,” he
panted.
“That would be nice,
wouldn’t it?” asked the long-legged blonde beauty, as the boy’s cock stood now
to rigid attention in her grasp.
“Yeth,
lovely,” he nodded, before hastily adding the required “mistress” word,
although he couldn’t say it properly.
“Sadie,” asked Della, “how
long before he’ll be trained to my standards?”
Sadie stepped from the sulky
and walked to the front of the shafts, then pressed
her rubber-clad breasts onto the muscled side of the boy’s upper torso.
“Oh, I’d say around six
months, Mistress Della,” she said, cupping the boy’s balls, as Della still held
his turgid erection.
Fuck, thought Della, kissing
the pretty boy on the cheek, and still stroking his hard-on, I’d take the cunt
today!
To be continued.
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