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FIRE DEPARTMENT PONIES
Mistress Eve took us to the big Mid-Western Summer Rodeo. We didn’t participate in any rodeo events but she did enter us in races and the dressage competition and she had been inspired by Three's story so she designed fire department style costumes for our performance. We wore high gloss red leather harness with shining brass fittings, red and gold high topped gay nineties horseshoe boots with red stockings, red headbands with fire department numbers in brass and red and gold plumes. Eve put us in panties too, which is unusual but proved very attractive. We wore red panties with gold numbers on the back. The effect turned out to be very sexy.
We pulled a wagon that was a miniature version of an old horse drawn fire engine. It was engine red with lots of shiny brass including a bell, ladders, hose and a smoke stack with a little smoke generator inside. Two, Four and I wore the red harness, but Three wore white leather and red crosses.
Mistress Eve drove the wagon wearing a skimpy costume from the eighteen nineties; skin tight blue shorts, a red shirt with a cut away front that exposed her lovely breasts, brass buttons, gold suspenders, a gold fireman's helmet and big rolled down boots. A toy Dalmatian on the seat beside her added the perfect touch.
We introduced the new costumes at the show in Indiana and got a standing ovation during the opening parade. While the other events were going on Eve gave rides on the engine and everyone lined up for that. We were still giving rides when the dressage started. Mistress Eve uncoupled us from the engine and put us through our routine. The crowd applauded throughout our entire performance and no one could hear our music. And when we finished she touched a remote control and the toy dog wagged its tail and barked. The audience cheered. Afterward we gave more rides on the fire engine. Everyone who saw us wanted to take our panties off and several people offered to buy us.
She collected large sums for each of us when she auctioned us off that night. (I think it was the panties) and she was offered an astonishingly high offer for a photography session by one of the top fetish magazines.
One rich gentleman offered to buy the whole team and had the money to do it. Eve told us about his offer and we went into a huddle to discuss it. He was very nice and offered a ton of money for us to Mistress Karen and an equally large amount to each of us personally. We had to think long and hard because it was the biggest amount ever offered to buy pony slave. We would have been wealthy for life. But after a lot of discussion we decided to stay at the farm. I spoke to the gentleman and explained that we were hugely flattered at his offer, and held no reason against becoming his slaves, but the farm was our home. He accepted this graciously and gave each of us, and Mistress Eve, generous gifts. We in turn offered to spend a month at his home; which was arranged to take place during the winter, and when we went to him in January we gave him the most erotic thirty days (and nights) that we were capable of.
Weeks later we were taken to San Francisco for the photo shoot in an abandoned fire station. It was a high level scale production with a full scale crew of several photographers, lighting men, electricians, prop boys, security, caterers and individual makeup artists. The magazine paid a lot of money to fix the place up and the entire editorial staff showed up to watch. It took four days for the shoot and we were actually stabled in the building at night.
They built four stalls and equipped them for pony girls, except that we had real (king sized) beds instead of bunks. The beds were equipped with tie down hooks and the magazine executives spent the nights with us. There were three men and a woman on the editorial staff and they spend all their creative hours looking at bondage pictures, writing bondage stories and dealing with bondage people so they know a lot about tying up girls. They traded off with us each night and boy did we experience some very erotic bondage!
The goings on attracted a lot of attention from the neighborhood and extra security had to be brought in to keep people from climbing up to peek in the windows.
Additional harness had been ordered, which was an everyday working set but it still managed to look like fire department gear; we saved the dressage costumes for the final shoot. We posed in the stalls with male models rubbing us down and washing us like horses. We were photographed being harnessed to an antique fire engine, in front of mock up buildings with fake flames coming out of them while the male models pretended to out the fires, etc. The first three days were all shot inside behind closed doors but on the final photo sequence of the third day the director got very creative and very daring.
She ordered a semi-trailer truck brought to the station and had them park it in the alley with the loading ramp down, then she positioned the photographers along the street. We were harnessed to the replica fire engine in our costumes, but had no idea what was going to happen until the big door was thrown open and Mistress Eve drove us out onto the street. The photographers clicked away as we turned and trotted along the block. An electric siren had been added and traffic came to a screeching halt. People stared and pandemonium reigned for five minutes as we trotted topless around the entire block.
Now we are all horrid exhibitionists but we'd never been displayed like that on a public street, and boy, was it exciting! We looked at each other in astonishment and had trouble keeping our pace and our discipline. Eve used her whip to try to get us into proper order but we were so excited that we barely felt the sting, but people's jaws dropped when they saw the red welts appear on our breasts.
After the first corner we got ourselves under control and ran like the wind and we just couldn't stop giggling. We circled the block (and ran a red light, which almost caused and accident), and when we returned to the fire station Eve stopped us. We stood at attention for ten seconds while she jumped off the fire engine and tore our panties off, which brought gasps and astonished applause from the people on the sidewalks, then she drove us around the block again tossing our panties to the crowd. That almost started a riot. Men in the crowd started grabbing at us but Eve used her whip to keep them away. Other people ran after us and Eve made us sprint as if we were being chased by lions. When we reached the alley Mistress Eve turned us toward the waiting truck and snapped the reins on my shoulders. The security men were in a line across the alley. They parted long enough for us to pass through then closed and kept the crowd at bay.
I lined us up with the truck and we went up the ramp at a dead run. Eve yanked us to a stop with the reins and pulled the brake with all her might. The security men slammed the ramp closed and the driver threw the truck into gear and we drove away shrieking with laughter.
That photo shoot was enormously popular and the magazine divided it into several different editions. Each one sold out the day they appeared in the book stores. We became famous and got invitations to attend pony shows all over the world, (and requests that we come in our fire team costumes.)
As a sidelight: somehow one of the pictures appeared in a fire safety trade magazine. It was actually a copyright violation but no one got upset. We are galloping toward the camera with smoke pouring from the stack. Our faces are in full view, showing the excitement in our eyes and Mistress Eve has her whip arm raised.
The safety magazine sanitized the picture by drawing bras over our breasts and airbrushing away the whip marks, but the picture is still very erotic. They added a caption saying that the Fulton Street Fair now had its own fire department.
I remembered that the photographer had knelt in the street directly in our path and he was so intent on getting the shot that he almost got run over. He jumped out of the way just in time or he would have been trampled.
One of our guards, who is a fireman at his day job, saw it and gave the magazine to Mistress Karen. She had the photo framed and hung in the main house.
She gave Number Three a copy for her stall and she gave Number Three to the guard for a night, to thank him for his thoughtfulness. She was delivered to him in her Fire Engine costume.
The guard is big and strong and handsome and Three was quite happy to be owned by him for the night.
The Nurse (part two)
Ellen handles our injuries, aches and pains, and provides wonderful massages for everyone, even the slaves. When she isn’t doing medical work she helps out in the office or around the house. She is a submissive and has been trained as a pony but she rarely works like a true pony. She is permitted to wear harness two or three days a week and sometimes is attached to a working team but she has never been trained to perform. She is a true masochist and enjoys being punished and while she is content to submit to male masters she prefers women. She eagerly volunteers to be auctioned to guests and delights in public humiliation and punishment.
I don't know how she is listed on the farm roster, but I think of her as a slave/ nurse. She has lived in Europe and has a faint German accent and a delightful way of addressing Mistress Karen as ‘Madame’.
Her skill as a masseuse has made her very popular with everyone, mistresses and servants and visitors alike. Ellen is an accomplished legitimate massage therapist but she also delights in masturbating people and she ends every massage by giving her subject a fantastic orgasm. The mistresses enjoy her massages so much that she is in great demand in the evening after the farm work is done. So many mistresses wanted massages that she had to create a signup sheet, and even then there were arguments.
She was given a room in the stable to put her table but in warm weather she sets it up outside under a shade tree. It is very pleasant to get an open air massage.
Her massage techniques are so good that even the gay males can’t resist spurting under her expert manipulations.
The first time she massaged a gay pony he pushed her hand off his penis. Mistress Agnes, who was supervising, promptly tied him down and told Ellen to proceed. The male, who is named Teddy Boy smirked and told Ellen that no matter what she did, he would not come. This turned into a contest of wills and people gathered to watch. It took Ellen almost an hour and Teddy smiled complacently at her, but she moved her hands over his body so skillfully, never touching his penis but getting closer and closer until he was frowning in frustration. He scrunched his face and tried not to give in but as her fingers circled his groin his cock rode until it stood straight up. Then when he wasn’t expecting it she pressed her finger between his balls and rectum and grabbed his penis in a fierce grip! Half a dozen hard strokes sent Teddy Boy into a thrashing, roaring orgasm with his back arched and his feet drumming on the table! His climax was highlighted by a very impressive fountain of cum that shot several feet into the air. Teddy's teammates had been cheering him on as he resisted Ellen's efforts, but they were silenced in awe when they watched as he nearly tore his bindings loose when he came. He convulsed so violently that he almost toppled the table. Ellen caught it and held it firm while she kept her hand pumping his penis. She didn't let up when he reached the point of over sensitivity. He was shrieking for her to stop, and when she did he collapsed and lay sobbing. Ellen smiled triumphantly down at him and counted silently on her fingers for thirty seconds, then grabbed his cock. Three light strokes made him hard again and about a dozen hard, slamming ones sent him wild again, and created another impressive fountain of cum.
Mistress Agnes released the sobbing pony boy's bonds and rolled him off the table. He landed with a thump on the ground. She snapped her fingers at the next male and he climbed on. Agnes tied him atop the table and Ellen went to work. He looked at her in confusion but didn’t seem to hold back. She had him spurting within twenty minutes. The rest of the gay team didn't even try to resist. Ellen was quite pleased with herself after making each of them spurt.
Ellen's reputation went up after word of that got round and she has been heard to boast that if she were given a free hand (great phrase) she would be able to make the gay males get hard merely at the sight of her. I don’t doubt it, especially after she teased and tormented Teddy Boy another time and had him so excited that he agreed to eat her pussy if only she would allow him to come!
I was present and watched as Ellen took off her panties, climbed on the table and lowered herself onto his face. The world seemed to spin backwards when I saw Teddy Boy, our self-proclaimed gayest of the gay, stick his tongue out and lick her pussy. Ellen rode Teddy’s face until she had an orgasm, (or pretended to have one), and her victory started a debate among everyone. Could she truly turn a gay man straight?
The mistresses over the male teams have been debating the question and there has been talk of giving one of the gay boys to her for a week with no restrictions to see if she can make him want a woman instead of a man.
Gay, lesbian or straight, one of the most incredibly erotic experiences on earth is to be strapped down to a massage table, given a two hour massage by Ellen which finishes with celestial fireworks that begin in your pussy and end by lighting up nearby galaxies. I expect that it is the same for a man.
One effect of Ellen’s presence is an increase in the harshness of our whippings. The mistresses, knowing that she is here to tend our wounds, have gotten very cruel with their whips. We all like punishment but now there are occasions when the after glow of orgasm fades when we really do need some painful stripes tended. It’s nice to look forward to a soothing treatment at Ellen’s hands which always includes having her fingers up our pussies or wrapped around the males’ penises. She also has a very talented mouth and her tongue is a heavenly delight for both sexes.
Mistress Eve remarked that she thinks that Ellen's treatment to injured slaves has increased the degree of masochism on the farm. She thinks that more slaves seem to beg for harsher punishments, and some misbehave just for a chance to be treated by her afterwards.
I didn't tell Eve that I've been guilty of just that myself.
Ellen lives in the stable like the rest of us. She's a likable person and we enjoy having her as part of the group. A few nights after her arrival we heard the story how she came to be here.
It was a cool evening and we were sitting around a fire in the stable yard. Mistress Karen had sent bottles of wine, pastries and fruits and as we enjoyed her gift we asked Ellen about herself.
“I grew up living in the United States and Germany,” she said. “My Mom is German and my Dad is American and I speak a number of languages. I went to nursing school in New York and after working for a few years in local hospitals I decided to move to Europe for a while.
“I was hired to be a nurse in an exclusive girls’ boarding school in Switzerland,” she told us. “The school is small and only accepts daughters from very wealthy families.”
“Ah,” observed Debbie. “It sounds like a school for rich bitches.”
“Exactly,” Ellen said. “The students were troublesome little brats who had been spoiled all their lives, and when mommy and daddy realized that their little darling was growing up out of control, they sent her to us to straighten out. No expense spared and no questions asked about methods.”
“Spare the birch and spoil the bitch, right?” Number Three laughed.
“No rod was spared,” Ellen agreed, “Nor were any of their cute little asses. The director was a very strict Teutonic woman right out of a bad S and M movie.”
“Let me guess,” Karla laughed, “She had a perpetually stern expression, ice cold blue eyes, blonde hair in a bun and wore gray suits.”
“And big breasts,” Number Three added. “Don't forget big breasts.”
“That is exactly how she looked,” Ellen laughed. “And she went by the name of Madam Ingrid.”
“Ingrid Von Stern?” Three asked. “I saw her in a bad bondage movie.”
Everyone laughed.
“Oh, you would never believe Madam Ingrid’s real name,” Ellen said.
“What is it?”
“Eisenhower.”
The room shrieked!
“Madame Ingrid used very harsh physical punishments to keep her wards in line,” Ellen went on. “When they misbehaved in the slightest way they were bent over a spanking horse and caned until they were blistered. That’s where I came in.”
“Did you get to wield the cane?” asked Angie.
“No, my duties were to treat the injuries and keep their little bottoms from being permanently scarred, all the caning and flogging was done by Madam Ingrid. She reserved that pleasure for herself.”
“Ooh, did she flog just their bottoms?” Four asked.
“No, they got their boobies smacked too,” Ellen said. “Madame Ingrid was very creative.”
“Sounds like my kind of school,” Gloria chuckled. She turned to Angie. “You should apply for a position there, professor.”
“No thanks, I prefer to be smacked on my boobs, not to smack someone else’s.”
“But just think, you could teach classes while naked,” Karla said.
“To a room full of naked teenaged girls,” I added.
“Ok, now that I might be able to handle,” Angie laughed.
“How did you find such a job?” I asked Ellen.
“I saw an advertisement in a newspaper. I checked around and found out that it was a school for difficult girls but I had no idea what really went on until I arrived for my interview.”
“What happened?”
“I was shown into Madame Ingrid’s office, and she subjected me to a very detailed interview. I didn’t worry because I’d worked in institutions before, but toward the end I detected that her questions were slipping toward my sexual orientation.”
“Did you have to be a lesbian to work there?” Gloria asked.
“Yes, although I didn’t realize it at the time.”
“Are you?”
“I am now.”
“Oh, you weren't before?”
“No.”
“Let's see your tongue.”
She stuck it out.
“Excellent,” Three said. “You will fit right in.”
“Welcome to the club,” Gloria said.
“Thank you.”
“Let’s get back to Switzerland,” Angie said. “What about the sexual nature of the interview?”
“Madame Ingrid hinted that since the students were all wicked little monsters, who were devoid of morals there was only one way to control them; very strict discipline, and no sex.”
“Wow. No sex at all?”
“Yes. No men lived or worked at the school and few were allowed to visit, and when men did come to do work or something they were under constant escort by one of the staff. Our wicked girls had to satisfy their wicked urges with one another.”
“And Madame Ingrid tried to prevent this?” I asked.
“That's what she told me,” Ellen said. “But I didn't buy it for a moment.”
“Oh?”
“I suspected that the girls actually had quite a bit of sex, but it was always controlled by Madame Ingrid.”
“Were all the students lesbians?” Four asked.
Ellen nodded. “If they weren't to begin with, they became gay soon after arriving. Their parents accepted it as the alternative to teen pregnancies among their little darlings.”
“Holeee cow!” the professor gasped.
“Oh, it gets better, Ellen laughed wryly. “Some of the mothers were graduates of the same school. They knew exactly what went on there.”
“How old was that Madame Ingrid?” Two asked. “How many decades had she taught?”
“Oh, she wasn't very old,” Ellen answered. “But the school had existed for over a hundred and fifty years. She was just the latest in a line of stern, lesbian head mistresses.”
“Was she the granddaughter of the original head mistress?”
“No, I don’t think so, but I always have wondered how the school trustees found such women generation after generation.”
“So teenaged girls have been getting their cute little bottom caned there for generations?” Two asked.
“Since the eighteen sixties.”
“Wow.”
Ellen went on. “Naturally it was impossible to call in an outside doctor to treat the blistered bottoms so I had to be both medically competent and discreet. The school didn't want stories about the disciplinary practices circulating around the town.
“Madame Ingrid told me that a student was in the next room awaiting punishment, and suggested that I witness it and decide if I wanted the job.”
“Wow,” Susan said.
“Now I had never had sex with a woman, not had I any lesbian tendencies,” Ellen said, “But my pussy was tingling when we went into the room. I was astonished to see a whipping horse in the center and a pretty teenaged girl standing in a corner.”
“Was she naked?” Debbie asked.
“No, she wore the school uniform dress.”
“Oh.”
“How old was she?” Gloria asked.
“Seventeen.”
“Oh, I guess that’s not too bad,” Gloria said. “I thought you meant something like a thirteen year old.”
Ellen gave her a meaningful look.
“Oh dear,” Gloria said.
“Madame Ingrid selected a cane from a rack and showed it to the girl,” Ellen went on, “Who curtsied, kissed the cane, then draped herself over the horse. Madame Ingrid buckled the girl's ankles and wrists to hooks on the base, then raised the girl's skirt over her back.”
There was a deep inhaling of breath.
“Panties?” whispered Angie.
“Yes.”
Everyone waited expectantly.
“Madame Ingrid pulled the girl's panties down and rubbed her bottom.” Ellen said. “The girl looked up at her and smiled.”
“Ooh,” Susan sighed, “That kind of girl.”
“Yeah,” Ellen said wryly. “And her smile got bigger when Ingrid's hand slipped between her legs.”
There was a deep collective sigh.
“Madame Ingrid stepped back and swung the cane across the girl's bottom. The girl squealed and wiggled her butt. Ingrid gave her twenty slow, severe strokes, which left big red welts across her legs and bottom. The girl looked back the entire time and never took her eyes off of Madame Ingrid. When it was over she was breathing very heavily, and there was a faint smile on her face.”
“Did she come?” Susan asked breathlessly.
“There was no doubt about it,” Ellen said. “The little slut loved every moment.”
“That kind of girl,” Susan repeated.
“Just like you,” Four said.
“Just like me,” Susan agreed.
“And me,” I said.
“And me,” Three said. There were similar murmurings from the group.
“Then what?” Number Two asked.
“Madame Ingrid walked out of the room. One of the assistants came in and released the girl and took her by the arm into infirmary, the lazarette, as it’s called over there. I followed. The assistant left without a word and the girl draped herself over the examination table. She smiled when I lifted her skirt up. Her panties were still down around her knees so I took them off and tossed them aside. I went through the cabinets and found the things I needed. I washed the girl’s bottom and legs and rubbed antiseptic ointment into her stripes. As I was doing that the girl opened her legs, reached back, took my hand and guided it to her pussy, then she smiled, closed her eyes and began humming a little song.”
“I TOLD you she was that kind of girl” Susan said.
“Holy Cow!” Three gasped. “What did you do?”
“I thought about my professional oath, the risk of losing my license, of going to jail or at least being kicked out of the country,” Ellen answered.
Everyone waited.
“I thought about if for about ten seconds,” Ellen sighed. “Then I caressed that beautiful little pussy.”
There was a huge collective sigh.
“She was absolutely adorable and made soft little kitten sounds while I tickled her clitty,” Ellen said. “That was the first time that I'd ever touched a girl sexually and after she came I her pussy a little kiss and told her that she could go. I opened the door but she climbed off the table, closed the door, then knelt at my feet and raised my skirt. I should have gotten out of there but I was frozen in place. The girl pulled my panties and panty hose down and tossed them aside, gently pried my legs open and gave me the sweetest little kiss on my pussy.”
Several of the ponies groaned softly.
“She knew what she was doing,” Ellen said. “She pushed me back against the table and lifted my legs up then smiled sweetly and put her tongue inside me. I had a delicious orgasm in that dispensary. After I came, the girl got to her feet, curtseyed and thanked me. She retrieved her panties and tucked them into the sash of her dress. She arranged them so that there was no mistaking what they were, then she folded her hands and waited. When I was finally able to sit up and put my clothes in order the girl touched a button and a buzzer sounded in the next room. The assistant reappeared and I jumped off the table and tried to look innocent.” She smiled wryly. “It didn't really matter since my underwear was on the floor but the assistant didn't bat an eye. She picked up my panties and panty hose and neatly folded them on the examining table. Then she nodded to me and took the girl away.”
“So you passed the job interview?” Susan said.
“Not quite,” Ellen said. “The final test came the next morning.”
“What was that?”
“The school is so remote that there is no hotel for miles so I spent the night. The following morning Madame Ingrid took me back into the punishment room and informed me that if I were to be able to properly tend to the students, I must understand what is it like to take a flogging myself.”
“Uh oh,” Gloria giggled.
Ellen nodded. “Madame Ingrid said no more, she just stepped away from the whipping horse and waited. I thought about it for a few minutes, then took off my clothes. Madame Ingrid watched very closely, and seemed to approve when I was naked. I let her look for a few minutes, then placed myself over the horse and she strapped me down.”
“What kind of horse was it?” Susan asked.
“A simple box with a padded top,” Ellen replied. “It was built at an angle so that your butt is higher than your head, and it had hooks all around the bottom to tie you to.”
“Were you already a masochist?” Angie asked.
“No. I’d never done anything like that.”
“Not even bondage?”
“No. I was terrified.”
“Just terrified?” Number Four asked.”
Ellen blushed. “I was excited too,” she confessed.
“What happened next?”
“Ingrid walked around very slowly, patted me on the bottom a few times, and explored my pussy.”
“Mmm,” Two breathed.
“After a minute or two she began spanking me,” Ellen went on. “She started with her hands and spanked my bottom and my legs, working her hands up and down from my knees to my waist. Then after a very long time she switched to light paddles.”
“Did it hurt?” I asked.
“Not at first, but she slowly increased the strength of her blows. I was feeling the pain even before she began using a paddle.”
“Did you like it?”
“No, not the first time she spanked me. It was very painful. She used just about every form of paddle or whip imaginable. By the time she had run through them all I was sobbing with pain and trying very hard not to scream,” Ellen said. “She offered to stop and release me, but I knew that my job depended upon staying, so I told her to continue.”
“Was the job the only reason?”
“No,” Ellen answered softly. “Even with the pain I felt a sort of freedom to let everything go.”
“Were you turned on?” Susan asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you come?”
“Not right away. Madam Ingrid went from paddles to canes, and finally whips.”
“What kind of whips?”
“Floggers, horsewhips and finally bullwhips.”
“You felt a bull whip the very first time you were punished,” Three asked.
“I certainly did.”
“Wow!”
“Madame Ingrid finished up by using the biggest whip on my pussy,” Ellen told us. “She stood at my head, pressed her belly against the top of my skull and swung the whip right into my pussy. It hurt horribly but I liked it.” She looked shyly around the room. Every one smiled sympathetically.
“But I didn’t have an orgasm until Madame Ingrid slid something up my pussy.”
Everyone sighed. A few moaned softly.
“What did she put inside you?” Three asked, “A vibrator?”
“No, it was the handle of the whip,” Ellen answered. “I had an orgasm within seconds.”
There was a deep inhalation in the room.
“After that she left the room. I remained tied over that horse for a long time. I tried to think about what I had done but I was very confused by all the conflicting emotions going through my head and sensations in my body.”
“What did you feel?”
“My legs and bottom hurt but my pussy tingled. My nipples were so hard that my breasts ached. I was embarrassed and ashamed that I had allowed someone to do that to me yet I wanted more. I was a mess.”
“Yes, we can all understand how that can happen, especially the first time,” I said. Everyone nodded. “How long did she keep you tied down?”
“All morning,” Ellen answered. “I was released by another staff member at one o’clock. She watched as I got dressed. I wanted to get out of there but she took me to Madam Ingrid’s office, and I didn’t resist.”
“What happened then?” Four asked.
“Madam Ingrid made me stand close to her and she touched my breasts. I was so overawed that I didn’t protest. She squeezed my breasts and asked if I wanted the position, and I told her that I did.”
“Did she make you put your tongue in her pussy?” Gloria asked.
“No,” Ellen blushed. “That didn’t happen until a few weeks later. Madam Ingrid had one of the staff drive me to town and collect my things from the hotel. When we returned to the school I was shown my quarters and as I was unpacking one of the students appeared to help. She had been assigned to be my orderly.”
“What does an orderly do?”
“Anything and everything that I desired.”
“Did you desire her?”
“Yes, she was so pretty and so sweet . . . and so sexy.”
“What was her name?” I asked.
“Camille, she was nineteen.”
“At least you weren’t having sex with an under aged girl,” Three commented.
“Did she sleep in your room?” Debbie asked.
“Sometimes, the fiction was that the girls were strictly watched in their dormitory by the night matron but many of the nights girls would be absent.”
“When did you have sex with Madam Ingrid?”
“A few days after I started she called me into the punishment room and gave me another caning, then she made me kneel on the floor and lick her pussy.”
“Did she return the compliment?” Gloria asked.
“No, Madame Ingrid never does anything for her lovers. She is the giver of punishments and the recipient of pleasures. She let me know what she wanted and I did it. I had to bear pain from her and give her anything she wanted, but she never touched anyone's body other than to spank them. It was the same with the rest of the staff, Ingrid took and we gave.”
“And you took your pleasure from little Camille?” Three asked.
“Yes, most of us had a special relationship with a favorite student, she was mine.”
“Whooo!” breathed Debbie. “Were they your personal slave girls?”
Ellen nodded. “That was just about the gist of it. They cleaned our rooms and did our laundry and such and made love to us, but we didn’t coerce them. They always seemed eager to please and we were allowed to take our girl, or any girl for that matter to bed so long as she wasn’t in a close relationship with another teacher. Camille and I were close from the very beginning but I still experimented with some of the other girls. Within a couple of months I was a confirmed lesbian.”
“How many staff worked there?” Angie asked.
“We had ten teachers, two clerks, six cooks and myself,” Ellen replied, “And there was a female groundskeeper and her female helper, and everyone one was a hard core dyke.”
“It sounds like that school was a hotbed of lesbianism,” Gloria observed.
“Every bed in there was hot,” Ellen laughed. “And Mistress Ingrid’s practice of allowing all that sex between the staff and the girls was an effective way to keep everything quiet.”
“Ah, of course,” Angie said. “No one could reveal the goings on without incriminating themselves.”
“Precisely.”
“But how old were the students?” Gloria asked. “Some must have been too young for that.”
“The youngest was fifteen,” Ellen answered. “Ingrid wouldn’t take girls younger than that. And the oldest girl was twenty. I don’t know how she picked them, there must have been some secret method, but every new student took to the arrangement like a duck to water.”
“None of them ever complained?”
“No, we often had visitors from their families and no one ever spoke up about what went on. The fathers seemed quite oblivious but I noticed a few knowing looks that passed between some of the mothers.”
“Ah, the alumni mothers?” Three asked.
“Oh my God, I wonder what the class reunions were like.”
“Once I was called to the lazarette to attend to fresh welts that Ingrid had applied to the bottom of a visiting mother.”
“What?” Angie gasped.
Ellen nodded. “Apparently the mother had fond memories of her own school days and asked Madam Ingrid to punish her.”
“While her daughter was there?”
“The daughter was in the school but she didn’t witness her mother getting caned. That was done in private, and I don’t know if the girl was aware of what happened to her mother.”
“Did all of the alumni ask to be caned?”
“Of course not, that was the only case that I was aware of.”
“Did only your Madam Ingrid administer all the spankings?” Debbie asked.
“Yes, only she. The teachers might smack a girl on the bottom for a minor infraction but Ingrid was the only one to spank or cane or whip anybody. And my job was to repair the injuries.”
“Wow. Did you get to attend to every pussy in the school?” Gloria asked.
“Every one,” Ellen said, “Including the staff.”
“The staff? They got spanked too?”
“Yes, Madame Ingrid was as strict with the staff as she was with the students, and any mistress, or cook, or clerk who displeased her would find herself strapped over that whipping horse.”
“How old were they?”
“Between their thirties and sixties,” Ellen said. “The chief cook was sixty two.”
“And she got whipped?” I asked astonished.
“She sure did,” Ellen affirmed, “At least three or four times a week.”
“And she liked it?”
“Of course she liked it. I had to listen to her humming contentedly while I applied antiseptic cream to her welts.”
“My goodness!”
“And what is wrong with a sixty year old woman getting whipped, may I ask?” from Gloria.
“Nothing mama, but I thought that you were the only one.”
“Just wait until you’re my age,” Gloria said. “I’ll bet that you will still be happy to be bent over a whipping horse.”
“I’m sure I will but I would rather be double crossed with you when I’m sixty,” I said.
“And I’ll be eighty by then,” she laughed. I jiggled my breasts at her.
“What about the school nurse?” Number Four asked, “Did she get whipped too?”
“Oh, especially her,” Ellen laughed. “Madame Ingrid was very strict with the nurse.”
“Well, it sounds like that school had some nice employee benefits,” Number Three observed.
“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” Ellen said.
“Why did you leave?” I asked.
“The authorities found out what was going on and were planning a raid on the school,” Ellen said.
“Uh oh.”
“The cook and I were in town buying food and medical supplies and we saw a lot of police officers gathering outside the prefect’s office. As we walked past we heard them talking about a raid on the school. I hurried to a telephone and called the school. I warned Madame Ingrid, then I ran for the border.”
“Incredible,” Gloria said.
“What happened to the cook?”
“I don’t know. She dropped me at the station just in time to catch a train. We said good bye and she drove away.”
“You were wise to leave fast.”
“I had to,” Ellen said. “I was an American in a foreign country, and even though I was in Switzerland legally I did not want to be dragged into their courts. I caught the train into Austria.”
“Did you leave all your things behind?”
“Just my clothes,” Ellen said. “I kept my passport in a safe deposit box in the bank, so I had time to retrieve it and empty my bank account before I left.”
“What happened to Ingrid?”
“She was escorted to the border and was invited not to return to the country for ten years. The school was closed and the girls were sent back to their families. I don’t know what became of the staff but the authorities didn’t want a scandal so I suppose that they were permitted to leave quietly.” She chuckled, “And with typical Swiss efficiency they sent my final paycheck to my home address in New York.”
“What did you do after that?”
“I came back to the states and worked in a hospital in Portland for two years. I got into the local fetish scene and found a cruel dyke mistress to dominate me.”
“Was she good?” Gloria asked.
“Not really, she was a professional dominatrix but had lost her enthusiasm. She had become perfunctory about punishing people. We had no emotional connection at all.”
“Pity,” Three commented.
Ellen nodded. “I heard about this place through a kinky doctor and contacted Mistress Karen.”
“How did the kinky doctor know about us?” I asked.
“He is a pony boy and had visited here.”
“Why didn’t he get a job as our doctor?” Two asked.
“He was married, had kids and a successful practice and didn’t want to give that up.”
“Does his wife know that he is a pony?”
Ellen shook her head.
“So you decided to be a pony girl?” I asked.
“Not really, I just wanted to be in a place where I could be in the open.”
“What about pony life?” Three asked. “You seem to like it.”
“Sure, now that I’ve experienced it,” Ellen said. “But I just want to be dominated and punished. When it comes to wearing harness and pulling a wagon, I can take it or leave it.”
“Why did you pick a female dominated farm?” Susan asked, “You seem pretty good with the men.”
“I prefer female sex but I still like being screwed by men. I rediscovered men while I was in Portland. I was dominated by males at bondage parties and realized that I like men and women, in fact I’ve been talking to Madame Karen about putting myself up for visitor auctions like the rest of you.”
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