Lady Laura

 Though upset with Reggie’s coupling with Honor Girl, I do have to remind myself that Chin spent a good portion of the morning orally satisfying my own needs... and with Reggie’s consent.

So I find my wrath aimed more at the statuesque form of feminine muscle currently bent over a bar. In undergoing the voluminous enema, her state of submission proves to be a tempting target for my ire.

And Reggie’s suggestion that I can begin renovations is most heartening. I have already realized there is just so much of the day that I can spend tormenting Honor Girl. Concentrating on the farmhouse and grounds will be a much needed diversion of my attention while he is gone.

I wave as the large, powerful craft ascends vertically, turns and heads east toward Newcastle. Oddly, thoughts of Reggie immediately begin to fade as I realize the enemas should be finished and Theresa should be soaping Honor Girl. Reggie has left orders to have her feathered.

I head directly for the barn.

Honor Girl

 I was thrilled to hear Sir Reggie give the command for a good feathering. But Lady Laura’s exchange with Miss Theresa was most disconcerting. Lady Grace stopped using the rings years ago. I recall the more experienced pony girls and their prodigious lips prominently exposed below their vulvas. And as for the testosterone...!

I calm myself as Miss Theresa removes the inflatable enema nozzle and I am permitted to expel. Such usually signals the end of the day’s anguish, for afterwards I must endure only a shaving and Miss Theresa’s cleansing, inspection and exquisite massage.

And a feathering! My heart leaps again in anticipation.

Lady Laura

                        With Reggie gone I can now explore, examine and in general snoop with impunity.

While Theresa takes Honor Girl into the wash area I tour the large barn. For the first time I enter a doorway at the far end. It is the exercise room and I gawk in amazement. The vast area is filled with treadmills, stair machines and countless other devices used to forcefully build muscles on formerly effeminate frames. The variety not only impresses but also the number. There are half a dozen treadmills alone and a particularly curious one is wide enough to accommodate two girls walking or running side by side. On the nearby wall, an interesting array of electronic equipment is affixed.  

And every piece of equipment has eye-hooks welded in numerous places, obviously used to involuntarily secure pony girls for long periods of exercise.

Most of the equipment is designed to build legs, thighs and buttocks. But on one wall there are machines for the abdominal muscles. With Honor Girl’s physique, I picture her spending much time secured thereto.  

I wander back to the main room. There rests a cabinet with doors unlocked. A quick inspection reveals an amazing assortment of crops, whips, canes, rubber plugs, wrist cuffs, ankle cuffs, chains, ropes, and cords among other things. But most importantly when I slide open a little used bottom draw I find the rings referenced by Theresa in our discussion.

There appear to be some twenty boxes, a set of a dozen each in a box and well labeled as to circumference. I suppose that a trainer experienced in the art of their usage could quickly ascertain which pony girl would require which diameter rings. And there are enough sizes to modify the labia of the largest, smallest, youngest and most mature of genitalia.

I pick up a box. The weight tells me that each ring, well gauged and of pure gold, is probably worth hundreds of pounds.

I am dumbfounded to realize that the value in this one drawer of Aunt Grace’s wanton paraphernalia could probably cover my debts.

Close examination shows that the inside diameter of each ring is grooved, like the cap on a bottle. With the thickness, the rings appear to resemble nuts intended to be screwed onto bolts. Evidently once a tuft of labial flesh is gathered and pushed through the inside of a ring the threading prevents the comparatively heavy circle of metal from slipping off. Ingenious!

So as the weight of the ring stretches the soft, pink and sensitive skin, it can be more or less screwed tighter, thus stretching further. More rings can be added as the skin loosens.

Since each box is clearly marked for circumference, obviously a girl’s size and the consistency of the labial flesh can be considered in undertaking the process.

            I will have to determine Honor Girl’s size. Experimenting with the rings will be an interesting diversion during Reggie’s absence.

The sounds from the wash room cease, yet neither Theresa nor Honor Girl appear. I close the drawer and approach. As I near, soft moans are heard. Then a voice.

“Very nice, Girl. Good pony.”

Honor Girl’s wet and massive body lies prostrate on the wash table. Her physique immediately draws observing eyes to the well-rounded mounds formed by the amazingly large and potent buttocks, well caned in Reggie’s farewell gesture. Between the parted thighs are the fleshy lips seeming to beg for attention.

But my gaze quickly moves forward to where the short pleated skirt of a standing Theresa lies atop Honor Girl’s head. An evidently grateful pony girl lies with wrists cuffed behind her back while Theresa’s dark brown, nimble hands hold her ear rings. She directs a pleasant oral assault of her pudendum. It is apparent that Honor Girl’s long tongue, which I found to be quite fervent, is paying tribute to Theresa. And the moist flesh of the relatively lifeless form implies that Theresa performed her post excursion massage with the usual degree of effectiveness.   

After Reggie’s rigorous caning, I am sure Honor Girl found Theresa’s soft but strong hands to be particularly sensuous. The moans suggest that Honor Girl is returning the kindness. And for the first time I understand the practicality of Theresa’s attire. The brief skirt and lack of undergarments provides instant access to the area of femininity that Honor Girl has been assiduously trained to service.

And Reggie’s orders to have Honor Girl feathered seems to have added a particularly heightened degree of attentiveness.

Theresa’s thighs clench, accompanied by one more but louder moan of pleasure. Her eyes open and she steps away, noticing my presence for the first time.

“She always services with enhanced meticulousness after a brisk caning,” she suggests with a smile of satisfaction.

Theresa’s hands release the large ear-rings and smooth downward over Honor Girl’s cheeks. An index finger tenderly dabs away the wetness from a saturated upper lip.

“Makes me wish she was caned every day.”

Theresa steps away.

“Time for the sling.”

Honor Girl’s form instantly jumps to life. Theresa playfully swats her buttocks as she stands and begins to jog to her waiting chains.