Charles Richards - A Kingdom Of Love

The pony tasted the salty sweat and licked his tongue between the girl's legs. She moaned when the hot flat tongue cleaved her torrid thighs and licked off the salt. She did not hesitate at the gate to the ring when she reached it but instead hopped lightly over it and urged the pony to move around the outside with a slap on his behind.

When Myrna arrived Clyde was already trotting in a circle around Joan, and the younger girl tossed the training whip to Myrna.

"All right, I'll use it. But keep your leathers on in case I nick you."

"No," countered Joan petulantly. "I want to feel every inch of Clyde that I can on my body. And besides, the nicks might be fun." She took her clothes off swiftly. Myrna swore beneath her breath because there was no way to stop the girl. More than that, she wanted Joan to know what it felt like to be ordered around with a whip popping near her every action.

And well, if Joan got cut, it could not be stopped. Then, too, if she enjoyed it-fine-as long as Myrna herself did not become involved with the ministry of pain. She would treat the girl as she would an animal.

Fairly and without hate. And if for nothing more, Joan would perform because she was bored.

She unfurled the whip with a snake-like graceful side step and a flick of her wrist. It whirred in the air, until she popped it once high above. The sound cracked way up on the whip's hiss and snapped like a spark. Then swiftly, as if she were an adder striking a wisp, she popped one between Joan's eyes, about an inch above the slope of her nose.

"All right, kitten, I want you to mount Clyde while he's trotting.

Move!" Myrna snapped the whip an inch above Joan's hip; but the girl's eyes were still dazed, almost crossed, from the sound before her eyes and she hesitated. Pop! The whip snapped again beside her ear as Myrna's voice ordered: "Mount the horse, Joan."

Pop! The whip above her hip caused the girl's body to start in the direction Myrna wished.

Clyde was trotting quickly about the ring now. Skillfully, Myrna slowed him just a bit with a snip at his forelegs. Then she snapped one again to Joan's rear and saw the girl's ass twitch in response. She popped two quick ones over her buns like dimples, and effortlessly, Joan started to trot.

She timed Clyde's passing after one loop of the ring. With Myrna's whip snapping through the air like a firecracker, Joan ran along beside Clyde and jumped on. Pop! Crack! Myrna snapped the whip high in the air and Joan felt the pony's tempo quicken. Her naked loins sweat against his coat as she slid into the valley between his shoulders and his rump. She felt the bunched bundle of muscles throb beneath her own buttocks and she squirmed her crotch more tightly against the small horse's back.

Myrna's whip popped another order, causing the pony to lengthen his stride until he fairly flowed around the ring. Joan was a flesh-colored blur on he streaking pony's back. His long silver mane and feathers trailed from his gun metal coat and she was forced to hang on to his straining neck. Her breasts pressed on either side of his thundering shoulders and Joan felt the horse hair slick with the mingling of their sweat. The effect was volcanic in each nipple. Blood swelled the nubs of her nipples as the coarse hair rubbed and bounced against her gelatinous tits.

Myrna cracked the whip before the pony's outstretched nose and suddenly he slowed down to a walk. It would not do to run the tiny horse into the ground. After all, she wanted him to be able to perform. Crack!

Myrna used the whip to bring Clyde to a halt.

"Dismount, Joan," she ordered.

The girl got off without speaking. She was too much out of breath to utter a sound. When she was on the ground she leaned against the horse's flank for support while her tiredness overcame her. Her face was nearly purple from the tight collar and mutely her fingers fumbled with it.

Myrna saw the movement and popped the whip beside Joan's ear. "Leave it on!!"

But Joan knew that if she did, she would soon pass out from the blood gorging her head. Awkwardly and still unable to catch her breath to the point that huge black spaces were appearing in the world about her, she managed at last to loosen the collar. She gulped huge draughts of air into her starved lungs while she felt the blood rush from her head. So fast it went that her throat pulsed heavily with its passage, and she staggered. She felt as if she was going to vomit, and without wishing to, fell to the earth and was sick for a moment.

As she looked at Myrna hot tears scalded her face from the subsiding burn of the vomit in her nostrils and her esophagus.

"Kick some dirt over the puddle and go wash your face off in the water trough," Myrna wryly suggested. "You'll feel better in no time."

Without waiting to see if Joan was going to obey she turned her attention to Clyde.

Joan raised herself from her hands and knees and pawed through a bleary world to the trough. She tossed the cold water into her face, then dunked her whole head into the wooden water tray. Softly, it washed off the sickness. When she raised her head the water poured down her neck and across her breasts. She shook her head like a dog with a coatful of rain.

Myrna was standing next to Clyde and the pony was sitting on his rear haunches with his forelegs up as if he were begging.

"Come here," Myrna commanded, gesturing with the hand that held the now coiled whip to a spot just in front of Clyde. Joan complied.

"Make it hard." Myrna pointed to the pony's sheathed cock. Joan kneeled and grasped both hands around the protective sheath. She began to pump her hands up and down on the shaft and was rewarded at once when the pony's blunt purplish-black prick emerged from its hole.

"Kiss it."

Joan dipped her head in obeisance and placed a light pouting kiss on the blunt end.

"That's enough." The girl's head withdrew. The shaft extended itself farther from its case and a drop of crystal fluid formed on the slit.

"Lick it off." Joan's tongue slid from between her teeth like a pinkheaded snake and wet her lips expectantly. She pouted them slightly so that she could surround a kiss about the drop, and then with a dart she licked the semen off.

"Have you ever sucked an animal's cock?" Myrna asked.

"Yes," replied Joan, "a man's."

"Only men?" Myrna's voice was surprised. "Why?"

"None of the other beasts have been noble enough though I have thought Andy would be."

"Would you like to blow the horse until he cums?"

"As you wish." Joan bent her head to comply.

"Not so fast!" snapped Myrna. "I asked you if you'd like it."

Joan turned to face the woman for the first time. "I don't know. Do you wish me to find out?"

Myrna was caught in her own trap. She still wanted to punish Joan somehow. But at the same time the sight of the beautiful girl kneeling with the horse's cock in both hands excited Myrna beyond delight.

Despite her fully justified anger Myrna was caught up with the erotic sight.

"Yes, I do," she admitted. "It's something I want to do and perhaps have been afraid to admit to myself before. Suck it. I want to watch."

As if the now fully distended pecker were a clarinet, Joan turned to the instrument and lipped it, licking a ring around the face with her tongue. It was salty and hot. She stretched her mouth as tightly at the corners as she could, then slipped her taut, elastic lips over the blunt-ended tool. It barely fit between the circle of her lips; how could she get her teeth down the shaft without scraping off a pound of flesh? It was an impossibility. Her mouth would not open that far. A growl full of frustrated rage trembled from between her lips. But when her neck muscles tensed to open her mouth farther the collar cut her wind off. Joan was perplexed.