Hello and welcome to MM! Have to say I loved Kayla’s tagline for this week’s post – PROCRASTURBATION – using masturbation to otherwise occupy yourself whilst other pressing matters wait. Who would ever do a thing like that? ~Looks around guiltily~ Quite. Moving swiftly on…
All of your grooms have been presented with a ‘magic wand.’ Most of you will be on familiar terms with the implement, but for those who are not, let’s just say it is an intense vibration unit. What you need to do, ponies, is withstand this instrument of intense pleasure for just five minutes. If you manage to withhold your orgasm, congratulations, you get to play in the paddock whilst your friends gather nettles with their teeth. There’s nothing like a little post-breakfast boric acid to destroy your taste buds, I hear. Just in case you weren’t fully aware of what the delights of picking nettles will do to your mouth, let me hasten to assure you that whilst there will be no permanent damage, the onset of facial paralysis, otherwise known in the nettle munching industry as ‘green bearding,’ is a very real possibility. So, if you want my advice, I’d suggest that you employ any means you can to avoid this particular task. “Failure will, of course, deliver you into the confines of the fallow field beyond and an hour or two of nettle harvesting with my whip hand as added encouragement.” He nodded to the grooms and they began the business of unearthing their respective wands.
Jenny watched as Daniel rummaged around in his satchel and brought out what looked like a giant vibrator. It was made of bright white plastic and didn’t look particularly threatening. Like every other female on the planet, she owned a rabbit at home and she could easily withstand five minutes of that upon her clitoris, so it didn’t appear there was much to worry about, other than how to keep warm. Whilst Black Shirt was talking the other ponies had kept their hooves firmly on the ground and Jenny had sensibly decided to do the same. Her backside was still rather raw from this morning’s spanking session and she could feel it throbbing painfully. As soon as he had stopped talking, the hooves immediately started stomping in earnest and Jenny’s were almost jogging on the spot in her efforts to keep warm. The sun refused to break through the thick cover of cloud above and because it was still early, the outdoor temperature had not really had a chance to warm up.
“Grooms, you have thirty seconds to prepare yourselves.” Mr Black Shirt had a digital stopwatch in his hand and his finger was poised above the start button. Counting down from ten, the air was soon rife with the sound of whirring motors. Jenny watched as most of the girls closed their legs tightly together. She wondered why they were all taking this challenge so seriously. Did they all have hair triggers when it came to orgasming? Keeping her legs shoulder-width apart, she gave Daniel a look of disdain and encouraged him to do his worst.
“Two, one, go!” No sooner had the words left Black Shirt’s mouth than the wand appeared on Jenny’s clit. It didn’t take her long to realise that this device was not really another version of the rabbit. A wand was a vibrator on steroids. She could feel the vibrations pulsing through the leather strapping that had been fed between her labia and the waves continued up to the base of her groin. To say that they were intense was an understatement of the grandest proportions. Her whole nether region appeared to be shaking. Snapping her legs closed to give her groom as little access as possible to her sensitive clitoris and finally taking heed of her fellows, at first she was hard pressed to discern whether the powerful pulsations of the wand were painful or pleasurable, but it didn’t take long for her to discover that five minutes was going to be a very long time.
Sir Ranulph Lyle contained his smile as he watched the ponies twitch this way and that, as if they all had some impossible itch to scratch. He supposed, in a manner of speaking, they had. With only their legs of any use to them in the avoidance of the buzzing wand, they could angle their body in different directions, but as all of them were securely tied to a thick wooden post by either their bridle or collar, none were able to escape the incessant vibrations that continued to plague them. Little did they know, but their grooms were under a considerable amount of pressure to deliver up their orgasms. Each had already been warned that a flogging would be issued to them, should they fail in their simple duty. Sir Lyle fingered the black leather flogger which was currently residing in his pocket. Running his fingers over the soft fronds, he was anticipating its use with an eagerness born of three weeks vanilla vacation time, which had been insisted upon by his equally vanilla wife. The break, even though it had been on the delightful island of Mauritius, had nearly driven him criminally insane by its end. Thankfully, he’d taken an extra week off work (unbeknownst to his wife) to catch up on some nubile bottom spanking before he had to return to his seat in the House of Lords. So eager was he to start the flogging procedures, that he had made sure this morning’s little game gave him a double dose to get back into practise. The errant grooms who failed in their task would receive a nicely reddened backside and then he was on nettle patrol, where his hands (he was ambidextrous and could use both left and right) would make sure that anyone not pulling out their fair share of the green stuff came out with a blisteringly sore bottom. It was a beautiful day indeed, even though it wasn’t.
Jenny was beginning to feel as if she had entered the World’s Greatest Disco Dancer contest. Her hips were bouncing off the girls to the left and right of her, whilst her breasts bobbed up and down in time to the non-existent beat. The nipple clamps she wore had begun to jingle furiously. She judged that no more than two minutes of time had elapsed but already her previously chilled-to-the-bone flesh was starting to warm up nicely under the wand’s carefully directed pulsations. She had no choice but to take Mr Black Shirt’s threats seriously and as she had no idea when rescue would arrive, she decided to play the game. Five minutes wasn’t really that long, anyway. They’d be at least half-way by now.
“One minute has elapsed, Grooms.” Black Shirt’s strident voice had no trouble breaking through the girls jingle bell chorus.
Jenny had heard that time was supposed to fly when you were having fun. Whoever had said that, had obviously never been a pony-girl at Albrecht Stables. Her dark thoughts did nothing to slow the quickening of her body. Squirm as she might, she could not elude the slippery instrument of pleasure in Daniel’s hands and the wetter she became, the easier it was for him to wield. He ran it up and down her clit, pressed it against the end of the fat dildo in her pussy and then teased it around the edge of her tail. The sensations it produced were indescribable. Jenny’s toes began to curl as the buzzing seemed to take on a life of its own and move throughout her body. The ease with which he brought to edge of orgasm was shocking.
“Just two minutes left, all.” A few seconds after Sir Lyle had spoken the first pony succumbed to the power of the wand. Shrieking through her bit, while her body tried to dislocate a few limbs by thrashing out in earnest, she finally slumped against the hitching post, breathing heavily. Her eyes bore the dark and hollow look of defeat. It didn’t take long for her to be joined by several others. The sounds of pleasure seemed to multiply rapidly until just about everyone in the paddock was screaming. Those that weren’t were almost crying.
Jenny was trying to avoid being whipped by the two pony girls on either side of her. Their tales were flying about and striking her outer thighs, one after the other. They produced quite a sting on an already very pink backside. Her concentration was intense in the desire to fight off her impending explosion.
The word seemed to propel Daniel into a frenzied kind of action and he began twisting and pumping the plugs buried inside her, while the pressure he applied to the wand was so hard it was as if he were trying to force it out of the other side of her body. Jenny knew the point of no return was swiftly approaching and there was little she could do to avoid it. Daniel had now clamped an arm around her waist, pinioning her in a static position, so that the vibrator could work more effectively. So hard was Jenny trying to avoid the inevitable, that her teeth were trying to bite through the rubber of her bit. Her arms were battling for escape inside the armbinder and her head was shaking the word, ‘no,’ as if that might help her fight the treacherous trembling that had begun to take over her body.
“Thirty seconds to go and only seven ponies left in the game.”
Daniel started to curse the fates that ever introduced him to Pretty Pink Petals. In the first morning she had already earned him a public flogging by screeching the place down and by the looks of things, he would soon be getting another courtesy of her incredibly stubborn nature. Short of pulling his pants down and going deep and dirty with her on the grass, he was at a loss of what more he could do to make her cream. As another two ponies began to writhe and moan, he could only hope they spurred Petal on to give herself up. If they didn’t, he was in trouble.
Jenny was crying with the effort it took to hold her body back. She could feel tears rolling down her face as her body bucked beneath Daniel’s hands. Her whole being was shaking with a force that would have loved nothing less than complete surrender. It was sheer force of will that held her back from release; nothing more and nothing less.
“Time’s up.” Sir Ranulph surveyed the area of panting, pitiful bodies and gazed upon them with contempt. Why did such a simple task always yield such dismal results? It never ceased to amaze him how weak the female sex was. From the looks of things, just five pony-girls had managed to make it past the five minute mark and all were openly crying. How pathetic. Only the new horses could be forgiven, as they had yet to be trained in the art of orgasm denial. Scraping a clot of mud off his riding boots, he named each pony that had successfully passed his test.
Enjoyed that? Keep hopping!
|1.||Naughty Office Nonsense||2.||Caught In the Act – Helen Karol Writes|
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