von Stuka


Unknown to Dori, her new pal Winnie was riding too.

In the smaller of the two indoor riding rings on the property, Winnie sat in a standard English saddle, her polished black boots slipped into shiny chrome stirrups and a pair of leather reins resting lightly in her hands. Her small mount shuddered every few moments and waited impatiently for a movement or command that would direct it to yet another exercise in the dusty ring. Winnie tensed her upper legs just a bit, compressing the flanks of her mount between her knees and the horse moved slowly forward towards a low rail, preparing to jump. Winnie, her black safety cap pulled tightly down almost to the point where the brim met her perfect nose, squinted in the harsh, artificial overhead lighting, trying to judge the distance to the jump, but when her mount began to drift to the right, Winnie corrected with a bit of leg and rein, tugging slightly on the double snaffle and pulling the pony’s tossing head back towards centre and the jump. The pony over compensated and drifted left and again Winnie corrected, this time using her crop smartly on the rounded muscular rump behind her. The pony jogged slowly towards the inevitable jump and then, at the last second, as if someone had slammed on the brakes, stopped in its tracks, ducked its head and straightened its hind legs. Winnie flew out of the saddle and landed a few inches short of the jump rail, dust filling her open mouth, and the ring’s pungent mixture of sawdust, dirt and manure covering the front of her shirt as well as filling the inside of her shirt, the front of her tight white breeches and her bra. She had hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of her.

The pony looked at her with grim satisfaction, then turned, and trotted back to the entry gate at the far end of the ring. Several grooms came running, then helped her stand while another hustled over to the standing pony, seized the dropped reins, and led the reluctant creature back to the centre of the ring.

“Do you want to remount?” a worried groom asked, helping her get her clothes back in order and checking for any cuts or bruises.

“No!” was Winnie’s emphatic answer while she shook her shirt front and pulled the tails out of her breeches. Clumps of dirt and dust emptied and rained down on her breeches and boots. “But that pony is going to get it.”

Winnie limped over to the pony, took the reins from the groom and, holding the side of the pony’s leather halter tightly in her left hand, began to flog the beast with her long, thin riding crop. The pony reared back, steel-shod front hooves flailing and Winnie ducked the flying feet and continued to swing her crop at the pony’s now fully exposed belly and chest.

“I’ll teach you to throw me!” Winnie hissed through clenched teeth, swinging the crop even harder, flailing the pony’s leather-clad breasts and bare belly. The pony fell, rolling over onto its back and all four feet beat the air frantically while Winnie’s crop sought and found the exposed centre crotch, raining blow after blow down onto the pony’s hairless sex. The pony whined and screamed through its gag bit, rolling hysterically about on the dirt floor and sending up clouds of dust while it tried to escape the blows. A ring of curious and frightened grooms had assembled around the pair, watching as rider and mount engaged in a one-sided beating.

The pony, whose real name had once been Tina Martin, was a large, muscular girl with wide hips and a tight belly; strong and hearty enough to carry more weight than Winnie’s weight, but in the fourteen months she’d been at the school, and then been made into a permanent resident, she had not adapted well to jumping. Her breasts had been a problem and the Head, after studying the girl’s training progress, her physical reports, and general health, ordered that her size 40-DD breasts be reduced to a more manageable dimension and then that she be fully jump-trained. Initially the school had not known exactly what Tina would be good at, and so she’d undergone a variety of training before the ‘jumper’ designation had been selected even though one consideration had always been that her tits were prohibitively large. To function as an effective jumper, a pony couldn’t have these eight pounds of fat flopping on her chest while trying to clear a jump and so the decision was made, and several pounds of mammary tissue were removed, her nipples repositioned, and the overall body appearance rebalanced to give Tina a more appealing look as a career jumper. Now, she was being flogged harshly by this bitch who rode abominably as far as she was concerned, and used too much rein and not enough leg. Tina’s exposed crotch was the intended target of most of the crop blows and so she rolled onto her belly and lay shuddering and howling while Winnie switched to beating her stout ass. Finally, the Ring Mistress intervened and sent Winnie to the showers, and the pony to the wash stall. Notes were made in both records and appropriate measures would follow concerning this gross violation of school decorum.

Meanwhile, down in her sealed cell, Dori was experiencing multiple orgasms. To describe her travail as anything less would have been, to use the cliché, a gross understatement. Her riding clothes were soaked with sweat running from every pore, dripping down her body, then pooling in the leather riding boots and spattering onto the concrete pedestal that Samson was bolted to. The mechanical monstrosity shook, rattled, jumped, bucked and rolled endlessly and his pace was as varied as it was harshly demanding of his hapless rider. At times he went like a wild, unbroken steed, fleeing from the possibility of confinement in a coral and at others he was simply and methodically trying to shake the mounted and impaled girl off his mechanical back. His bucks were slow enough to cause Dori to slide up the impaling phalli, hang there in momentary suspension, then plunge back down their slippery lengths to slam her bisected ass and naked crotch onto the sweat-soaked leather saddle. This in and out action in itself was enough to awaken and boil the girl’s sexual feelings, but the constant side-swings, jerks and starts from the beast multiplied the stimuli by ten. Her breasts swung heavily with the beast’s movements, following in slow motion the movements of the rest of her body. Some motions were violent enough to bring the massive globes into contact with Dori’s chin and neck and in one of her few moments of coherence she thought it was somewhat ridiculous to have her own breasts thrashing her neck and lower face when she careened about on a mechanical horse.

Dori had no choice but to ride it out, sweat it out, and come to orgasm over and over again. In short moments she was constantly panting and shuddering, trying catch her breath before the next inevitable wave of stimulation overtook her senses. Nostrils dilated, eyes wide and blinking back continuous sweat, she fought to somehow follow the irregular movements of the beast, but with nothing to hold on to, she could not have stayed in the saddle for more than a few seconds, had she not been bound there by the various restraints. Her young body, bound and impaled as it was, attempted every possible avenue of escape ... without success and so she remained fastened to her saddle, sliding up and down and rotating on the dual joysticks, her orifices forced wider and more open than ever before while her self-lubricating juices ran beyond any normal capacity.

Another orgasm exploded in her mind, the incredible sensations flooding up from her loins into and through her wildly gyrating breasts then out to her toes and fingertips. Every part of her responded ... over and over again to the incredible action of the electronically controlled monster she was being forced to ride and it already seemed like hours and that it would never, ever end. In one part of her mind, she begged for it to stop, yet in another part of her mind and body, she wanted it to go on and on. All that could be heard within the locked , stone-walled chamber was her continual begging through the bit and gag, over and over again.

“Oohhhh! Aaaaggghhh! Stop, please stop, oh, please please stop it! I can’t stand it any more! Please stop ... please, please ... OOHHH, ohhhh, ohhhhh ...”

Samson settled to motionlessness without preamble, without warning. Dori slumped in her bonds sweating profusely while still shivering and shuddering and finally, unable to do anything more than relax in the saddle, she slept.


“Learning to ride properly requires that you understand fully what the horse is thinking and why.” lectured the instructor. “That’s why you’re each now being outfitted in your pony attire. Your coaches will help today in the early stages, but you must learn to fare for yourselves. Now, we’ll review the equipment and have you each checked to make sure you are properly attired for your lessons. Norma, please take the stand and walk us all through.”

Norma, one of the instructors on staff, stepped quickly to the lectern, thanked the preceding speaker and got right to the crux of the matter.

“You students are now ponies. Not riders, not equestrians, but ponies. That’s why you have been put into the harnesses you now each wear. We’ve gone to the expense of having these outfits custom-made just for each of you. Ingrid, come forward please and demonstrate your pony for us all.”

Ingrid, another instructor, instantly brought her crop down on the rear of her pony-student; the crack of the leather making contact with the pony’s hide was resonant. Her charge shrieked into its bit and jumped forward, but tripped on its hobbled legs and fell on it side. The harnessed girl’s restricted legs thrashed in the air and more shocked gurgles and whines issued from its bit. Even though strictly confined by her the soft, cowhide harnessing, the young woman tried gallantly to regain her four feet but it really wasn’t possible for her back legs were encased in tight leather bags that held her heels pressed into her buttocks with calves doubled up against her thighs. Her little feet were moulded to the contours of her rump while her kneecaps bore small boots with steel horseshoes. Her arms were similarly enclosed in tight leather sheathes, these extended so that when standing on her four legs, her back was parallel to the ground. The apex of each foreleg was also fitted with a hoof and steel shoe at the point of each elbow, so that her helpless hands were strapped to her shoulders and useless to her. She wore a complete suit of snug, thick leather that fit precisely over her entire well-developed body and just above her buttocks a horsehair tail hung down, swishing back and forth.

Her head was completely concealed within a very realistic horse head complete with well-shaped ears, while behind, down her back, she wore a mane of fine blond hair to match her palomino colouring. Her the body shape and small size gave away the fact that she was not a real pony, as well of course as the swelling breasts that pushed the leather hide of the costume outward and down between the fore legs. The so-called pony also had a fine, narrow waist, (tightly corseted as it was), and a well-proportioned, firm and rounded rear end that supported its strangely configured the hind legs. A crupper strap encircled the base of the tail, forcing it to jut up from the base of the pony’s spine, but what wasn’t apparent was that the tail was mounted to a rigid steel strap under the suit that descended to cover the pony’s anus. At this position on the inner side, a large conical butt plug had been inserted into the girl’s body and the tensioned crupper strap dragged continually at the tender, sensitive sphincter. Her hanging breasts were confined by the suit, but each nipple had been pulled through a hole in the leather garment and fitted with small, spring steel rings. The rings had not yet pierced the nipples, but had split springs that held them firmly and painfully in the stitched leather holes. The instructor reached down and unsympathetically yanked hard on the nipple rings making her pony shriek with agony and flail all four of her hobbled legs frantically while she tried to escape the additional torment being inflicted. The instructors laughed at the girls hysterical antics, while the other ‘ponies’ watched in horrified fascination, feeling their own harnessed helplessness even more intensely and knowing that they might soon join their sister. They all knew that their own times of this type of discipline and control would soon come.

Eventually, with the assistance of two grooms, the pony was righted and the class resumed. Dori was the third in the first row and stood with her hobbled feet about a foot apart, trying the watch the instructor, but also distracted by her suit, corset, the hobbles, the plugs so deeply inserted in sex and behind, and the weight of the pony head helmet she wore. All of the tethered pony’s shifted at the ends of their instructress held reins and knew they were indeed lost. Dori stared out through the eye hole’s lenses, partially blinded by their intentional blurring and un able to see directly ahead, and with horror realized that none of her fellow ponies could be identified, although they were different colours and sizes. She’d seen her own outfit before it had been put on, and so knew that she was a small, chestnut pony with a dark brown tail and mane and with white socks on each leg. Her leather suit fit like a glove and getting into it had been a trial much more difficult that getting into the first day’s riding apparel. Once inside the suit, she found that it moulded itself to her figure when it was zipped up and sealed. Once inside, she had ceased to be human female, having become only a captive animal. She’d been fitted for this new attire several times and during each one, a different, tighter corset had been wrapped around her waist then larger plugs had been jammed into her openings. With each successive fitting the suite seemed to fit more snugly than before and this was, in fact, true. The tailors and fitters of the school had clear instructions to make the suit fit like a second skin and so at each fitting, Dori found that some new place in the suit was more a part of her than before. Around her thighs, at the shoulders and above and below her breasts, the suit had to be smoothed out and pulled, then smoothed again by the fitters in order to get it correctly onto and around Dori’s trim torso. Her diet at the school, plus the rigours of extreme exercise like the Samson sessions had quickly removed every bit of baby fat and now she was as lean and trim as ever. The pony suit ensured that her body would be properly displayed, even though it was totally encased in the thin hide.

At day’s end, they were placed in stalls, their necks locked in metal stocks and their feet closely hobbled, then they were watered and fed a grain mixture and left for the night. Each girl, alone in her locked stall had to sleep in this standing up position and if they fell, an alarm went off and eventually a groom would wander in sleepily and prop them up again, then beat them with a crop for the annoyance.

This was the attire the ponies wore for over a third of their time at school and while helplessly confined in this costume and their harness, they were trained in all aspects of pony behaviour. Outside they were allowed to ‘graze’ ... an activity that required serious concentration for in each paddock, the ground was planted with fake brush and bushes that held small rings in their limbs, much as a real bush would have buds or blossoms. It was the pony’s work when turned out, to acquire as many of these plastic rings as possible. On each bridle bit gag combination were two small steel hooks, one on each side of the mouth, and with proper manipulation and careful, slow moves, a pony could slip a hook into a ring and remove it from the bush. At the end of the day, the rings were removed from the pony’s bridle and counted. The daily quota was set depending on the pony’s behaviour and so a poor showing in ring grazing ensured that other punishments would soon follow.

Dori was learning about punishments. One night, chained in her bed, she was astonished to look up and see another girl bound to the wagon wheel chandelier directly overhead and recognized the girl as one who had earlier that same day, and on other occasions, made some obvious “come-on” moves at her. Not at all interested in such a partnership, Dori had ignored the apparent offer, but now here she was again, tied spread eagled over Dori’s bed, her mouth packed with leather gag and head nearly obscured with a heavy bridle and bit combination. The girl was cruelly bound with leather strips around her wrists, above the elbows, at shoulder, waist, knee and ankle while a harness gag secured her head to the wheel rim, and more leather strips bisected her crotch. More leather bands encircled her chest and others were wound tightly around the bases of her hanging breasts with their ringed nipples. A weight hung from each nipple and swung, enhancing the erotic aspect and increasing what must have been, Dori thought, considerable discomfort. The girl flapped her hands feebly and whined behind the leather packing in her mouth and all the while her pendulous breasts wobbled with her every breath, making the nipple weights juggle up and down. Salty tears dripped from her eyes and fell onto the bed, but neither girl was able to do anything. Dori lay in her now standard sleeping position on her left side, neck chain tight from headboard to collar, feet closely bound with the cuffs and hands behind her back, pulled to the edge of the bed by the chain that led to a ring on the floor under the bed. Her own gag was tight and she was exhausted. She glanced at the suspended girl above her bed and wondered how in the hell she’d gotten up there and considered several possibilities, wondering as well how the girl’s nipples would hold up under the continuous, all-night tension. Dori finally fell into a troubled sleep, dreaming that her own tits were being similarly abused. The night passed slowly and uneventfully for them both.


“Today’s ride is designed to improve your seat. Your contact with your nipples as sites for extra stimulus should prove most persuasive.” said the Mistress Wright, looking quite serious over her half framed spectacles. She peered at Dori who was again bound in the saddle over Samson’s monstrous hulk. The dreams of the night before suddenly came back to Dori while she sat rigidly upright in her saddle, only half listening to the Head.

“Most authorities on sexual stimulus agree that there is a strong tie, no pun intended,” she smirked, “between what goes on in your head and what your crotch and your butt and your nipples are telling you. For example, as I’m now demonstrating, your nipples harden quite readily when they are gently massaged. You see?” she asked pointedly, staring closely at the pinioned girl while her long sharp nails pinched and tickled the twin turrets.

Dori’s bridled head nodded vigorously as much as the tight double bridle allowed for the sensations from her chest were now quite vivid and she also had flash memories of the bound girl over her bed. Four leather reins hung from her headgear and these and their metal fittings rattled when she tried to shake her bound head. She wore the first bridle, a nylon webbing that encircled her head around the crown from forehead to behind, under the outer leather bridle. The nylon webbing was about an inch wide and held a fat rubber bit pulled well back into her open jaws, forcing her fine white teeth wide apart and it had no give at all. When tightened as it was now, it confined her head with a firm, unrelenting pressure in the same places a hat might fit. The vertical webbing went from the hat band-like circle down each cheek, under her chin, across the front of her chin and back around her throat. Another part of the webbing went around her neck and secured the chin band at the rear. The rubber bit was held firmly in place from the vertical pieces. The leather bridle encompassed the parts of her head and face that the nylon bridle missed, holding enclosures around her ears, straddling her nose and supporting close blinders that allowed only a narrow forward view. In some places it overlay the nylon bridle and in others, it held its own space on her small, mostly obscured head. Dori’s long hair, braided as the school required, had been threaded back through the maze of leather and nylon, ana a steel ring had been embedded in the twisted hair rope a few inches from its end.

The leather bridle also held a steel ‘correction bit’ in her mouth and this was a less than humane adaptation of the spoon-like bit used on young horses for dressage training. With the double bridle arrangement, the huge metal spoon was inverted in the mouth so that the tongue fit inside the concave depression, and when the reins were pulled, the spoon pressed down, forcing her tongue against the floor of her mouth. The spoon had additional refinement, this being a series of small metal spikes in its top and bottom and these functioned as an added incentive to the pony wearing the device. These spikes normally rested in the air space between the roof and the bottom of the mouth, with the spoon poised midway in the pony’s opened mouth, but when reins were pulled, the mouth closed and the spoon’s spikes went against the tender flesh on either the top or bottom and sometimes both if the reins were pulled hard enough. The school had discovered that Dori and a few other new students had an interesting little piece of jewellery that allowed even better use of the spoon bit, for in keeping with fashion trends, the girls had allowed their tongues to be pierced and had small metal balls mounted on either side of their tongues. This impaired their speech somewhat and many students wore the balls only at night, but now, at the school, once these decorative devices had been discovered, the one time jewellery was made more or less permanent and adapted to function together with their bits and so each girl’s bit had a bolt that fastened the spoon to the top of her tongue, using the piercing as the attachment point. This of course forced the spoon into closer contact with the tongue and brought the girl into far more intimate contact with the metal surfaces filling her oral cavity. When all four reins were pulled together, the spoon pushed the tongue down, the spikes made deep and firm contact while at the same time the rubber bit pulled the cheeks back, thus making a strong impression on the pony being trained. For added emphasis with stubborn ponies, a pair of nose hooks was added and these diabolical devices hooked deeply up into each nostril so that when her reins were pulled, the hooks jerked her entire nose upward, stretching the nostrils painfully. The combination of four reins, two bridles and two bits and the nose hooks usually worked on even the most recalcitrant of animals, but there were, of course, Mistress Wright had pointed out, other ways.

Wright tweaked and twirled Dori’s nipples until she got the desired reaction from the helplessly bound and bridled rider, then immediately produced two shiny, metal thimble-like devices from her vest pocket. They jingled quietly while she showed one to Dori, turning the open end towards the girl and inside the hollow cap, Dori saw a circlet of tiny, sharp metal teeth that looked like the multiple circular sets of teeth of the lamprey eel. On the outside of the dome were two small disks about the size of collar buttons and centred on the top was a small silver ring. This was what caused the faint bell-like jingle, but, fascinated by the ugly little instruments, Dori wondered silently what the Mistress was going to do with them.

“These must be some of those ‘other ways.’” Dori thought.

“These are to sustain what is now erect.” The Head Mistress murmured in the rider’s ear.

She placed the first thimble between her left index finger and thumb, pressing the two small metal buttons on either side of the dome. The spring-loaded buttons, when depressed, opened the semi-circles of sharp teeth inside and Dori had a sudden flash of cognition, knowing with dread what was coming next. Wright moved the thimble over Dori’s stiffened left nipple and lowered it to enclose the entire pink flesh bud and even though Dori tried to shrink herself away when she felt the dozens of tiny sharp teeth slide over and along her tumescent nipple flesh, she couldn’t manage it. The thimble quickly enclosed her entire nipple, and grinning happily the Head Mistress slowly released her finger pressure from the buttons. Dori responded with a start and a jump in the saddle when the springs released and the teeth sank into her tender, pink flesh and twisting and surging against her bounds, Dori once again slid up and down on the doubled prongs invading her lower body when she tried to free herself and get the biting little thimble off her sensitive and sensitized breast. Mistress Wright seized her right nipple and, despite the girl’s attempted struggling, proceeded to cap the second target as she had the first. The result was two metal enclosures over the girl’s alert nipples and her thrashing struggles slowly subsided as Dori realized that this was just another torment she could do nothing about. Her nipples screamed from the sharp-toothed metal clamps inside the thimbles, but the more she shook herself, the more they hurt.

“All this unnecessary struggling will get you nowhere, Dori.” said Mistress Wright. “I feel some additional restraint is in order, but I must, as usual, take care of other business, and so Margie here will see that these little fleshy towers of yours are properly restrained while you enjoy your ride. See you later.”

Mistress Wright left the cellar and Margie stepped forward to attach twin bungie cords from the overhead to the little rings on the thimbles fastened to Dori’s heaving chest. With this completed, the instructor departed the cellar and left Dori and Samson to their afternoon’s exercise.

With each jump and twist, Samson threw his rider to the extent of her bound restrictions and Dori flew about in the saddle, moving with starts and stops in all six possible axes. Up, down, forward, backwards, left and right. Not to mention the diagonal motion! Each move caused her stimulating distress fort her nipples were pulled in all directions, her head pitched back and forth, her body leapt out of the saddle and the penetrations lodged between her legs slid in and out, building up friction and sending waves of pleasure/pain throughout her racked body.

Unlike her previous session on Samson, this time Dori felt that she was being taken well beyond the limits of her endurance for Samson’s moves were more violent, the pace much too fast, and the duration of the pauses far too short. When Samson stopped to rest, it was only for seconds instead of minutes. The alternate and combined waves of discomfort and orgasmic elation began to all run together in Dori’s jerking head and to her astonishment, when the horse stopped for a moment, she found her hips continuing to jerk and spasm, riding the imbedded probes even while the horse was still!

“Na-guun-naa, ha-guann-na, na-ggag-GAAA, aaa, ahhhhh, ahhh!” Dori sung and moaned through the bit and gag while with each thrust the horse flipped her forward or sideways with greater intensity. Her involuntary oral responses were punctuated with a louder groan when she hit the end of the toss and was jerked back into the saddle, the prongs jamming themselves deeper and bringing a painful “Gnaaa-AAAAHHHHH!!!” from the girl’s plugged and bitted mouth.

The bungie cords on her nipple caps were an additional sensory trial for as the horse moved and Dori’s body followed, her D-cup breasts jumped and flopped on her chest, tugging and stretching the bungie cords, only to be snapped back to a thrumming tension, pulled out from her chest, nipples on fire. There was a minute delay as each body part responded to the horse’s moves, then there was a long sequence that flowed together and brought continuous stimulation to every nerve in her pinioned frame. Samson jerked up and back then Dori’s torso followed a millisecond later, with her breasts delayed another split second, and her stretched and fettered nipples, enclosed in their little silver caps, delayed a second longer. Dori’s upper body was in full back swing at the very moment her breasts were just beginning to start to follow and as she began to swing back forward, her breasts were flying backwards, tugging the bungies tight and pulling her tortured nipples forwards. Dori was certain that her treasured tits would eventually give up and simply tear away, but they remained firmly melded onto her chest and only served to excite and pain her more.

Samson ran for nearly twenty minutes, but to Dori, it seemed like twenty hours and at the end was in and out of consciousness. When Samson finally shut down, Dori had collapsed as much as her bonds permitted, in the saddle, limp and pale, her small hips jerking forward and backward still, her tight little buttocks jiggling and spasming while her internal muscles unwantingly embraced the internal phalluses. Her eyes were closed and no sound came from her throat. Only the pounding of her heart and the jingling of the nipple caps’ rings could be heard in the sealed and locked-closed, stone cell.