He Rode Her Wooden PonybyColinGraham©
He awoke groggily, uncomfortably aware of the pressure on his arms, which were suspended straight out toward hooks in the opposing walls by ropes attached to leather cuffs around his wrists. A wide leather collar around his neck was connected in similar fashion to a hook in the ceiling. The cool air wafting across his skin told him that he was also naked, although the blindfold prevented him from examining his surroundings.
His ankles were bound with what felt like leather straps, forcing his legs together against a smooth hard object that was placed between them. This was a board of some sort, perhaps 2 inches thick by 10 inches wide. He judged from the feel of it against his inner thighs that the top of the board lay a few inches below his crotch and scrotum.
Leaning backward slightly he felt a hard narrow pole restricting any movement in that direction. It pressed against the small of his back and ran up his spine. Its slightly wobbly movement suggested that it was not mounted securely to the board. It was in fact a broomstick, running set in a hole that had been bored down through the plank. The hole was large enough to allow the pole to move freely up and down.
He heard the creaking of a pulley and felt his collar being pulled upward even higher. The painful stretching increased until finally he had to lift himself up onto his toes to prevent from being suspended completely in the air by his neck. The board stayed rigidly in place, sliding down between his thighs as he raised himself.
"Are you ready to ride my wooden pony?" The woman's voice was close, so close that he could feel her hot breath against his neck.
"Wh-what is this? Who are you?"
"You've been a bad boy."
"What the hell is this? Let me loose!"
Whack! A sharp pain as a leather strap struck his exposed his buttocks. He screamed in pain and indignation.
"Shut up! You are in no position to demand anything, except mercy." She hit him again, eliciting more protests. She patiently repeated the cycle until at last he learned -- and fell silent.
Suddenly he felt her force a hard narrow object between his thighs. It was not much thicker than the other board and seemed to fit firmly on top of it, perhaps on pins. A bulbous head on the end of this object forced the soft flesh of his inner thighs apart. Its smooth oiled end touched his exposed anus, causing him to yell and struggle some more. These efforts were futile since he was unable to move more than a fraction of an inch.
His loud protests were met with more savage blows from the strap. This time the savage beating continued until his protests turned to screams, and finally to sobbing whimpers. As her subject hung gasping in his restraints.
Brenda quickly stepped forward and wrapped his chest and abdomen against the post in back with leather belts. Now he was prevented from moving his pelvis forward, though he could still slide up and down as the post moved freely in its greased hole.
"Now you will ride the pony," her voice came low and menacingly.
He heard the pulley creaking and felt the pressure on his collar ease a little. Lowering his uncomfortable stance, he immediately became aware that the bulbous object between his legs was now firmly—and painfully—pressed against his anus. He stood back up on his toes and tried to remain there. Brenda settled into a comfortable armchair nearby, picking up a glass of wine that lay next to it. She sipped the dark red liquid, enjoying its pleasant warmth almost as much as the scene before her.
"Riding the wooden pony" was a torture originally designed for women. Initially the subject would hold themselves above the board by standing on their tiptoes. As her legs tired and weakened she would come down, allowing the board to dig into her tender genitals. After a brief and painful rest the unfortunate woman would stretch frantically upward again, repeating the excruciating cycle of pain, fatigue and more pain.
It was always a futile effort, with the exhausted woman finally having to resort to sitting on the sharp edge of the board. There she would squirm and adjust herself, attempting to avoid those tender areas already bruised by the wood. Eventually there were no such areas left and subject had to rest her weight painfully wherever she could.
Brenda was now administering her own version of this brutal torture to the male who had fallen into her trap. She had constructed her "pony" especially with a male subject in mind. The cleaving action of the board would not be as effective as it was on a woman since a man had no "cleft." Instead she had fastened a huge "butt-plug" into the crotch of the saddle. Her subject, constrained by the saddle and the broomstick belt-post, was held in position directly over it so that the only way down was for him to impale himself.
She sipped her wine and sat back comfortably as he "rode the pony." The subject's eventual fatigue and his willingness to trade pain for rest assured penetration would ultimately occur. Brenda savored the wait. There was definitely something erotic about observing the pain and fatigue working against each other in her victim. In this way Brenda's pony was similar to the woman's version of the device.
After awhile he began to weaken and fall. Brenda admired the beads of sweat that ran down his face and the quivering of his overworked calves. He might have made a good ballet dancer she mused, watching the last of his strength wane. Finally, exhausted, he settled down onto the blunt head of the shaft, struggling without success to make it "miss the mark." The greased round head—nearly 2 inches across—lay directly against his anus.
"Bullseye," she exclaimed softly to herself.
He clenched his buttocks tightly together to prevent entry, but this would not last either. After a few minutes of struggling he was forced to let go. Gravity pushed him down against the shaft, stretching him open slightly. Only the enormous size of the head—opposed against his tight hole—prevented entry. His pain was obvious.
"Ahhh. . .Unnnhh!"
The man's grunts and cries were music to her ears. This is why she had foregone gagging him, and spent two days soundproofing the basement instead. She wished she could see his eyes too, but knew his terror would be more complete in darkness. Amazingly, the man now summoned enough strength to raise himself back up on his toes.
Brenda, flushed from her second glass of wine, was getting thoroughly aroused by the man's struggles. She unbuttoned her blouse and took it off, then removed her brassiere. Her nipples stood out prominently from her firm breasts, begging for attention. She complied, rubbing the reddish-brown nubbins between thumb and forefinger.
"Unnnhh!" The man grunted as his legs began to fail him again.
Brenda dropped her other hand down to her lap and hiked her skirt up, exposing creamy white thighs. She spread these apart and began rubbing herself through the thin damp material of her panties. Despite these ministrations she managed to keep her attention on the straining man. His prolonged pain and discomfort served to heighten her own pleasure.
Breathing quickly, Brenda stripped her panties off and thrust her fingers back down between her glistening thighs. She probed inside the dark confines of her vagina, moaning softly as her thumb rubbed against the swollen bud of her clitoris. A scream from across the room signaled that man's tortured sphincter muscles had finally given way and Brenda cast her glazed eyes in that direction. She saw him drop a little as his impaled rectum slid down upon the plug.
His terrible cries filled the room as his violation began in earnest. The loud and wet sounds mixed with Brendas own cries of pleasure, then died quickly in the thick padding along the walls. Fueled by the macabre stimulus of her impaled victim's struggles, Brenda quickly drove herself to an orgasm.
"Oooooohhhhhh!" The man sighed, as the fullness invaded his bowels. "Aaaaaahhhhhh!"
"Ooooooohhhh. . ." Brenda cried softly, her legs kicking out toward him as she climaxed.
"G-gawwwwd! Ahhhhh . . .mmmmmm. . .ooooohhh." The man moaned.
He hung slackly now, his mouth open as if attempting to allow his tortured ass more freedom to accommodate the invader. He made a small choking sound. The strain on his leather collar was preventing him from taking the full length of the plug. His legs were barely holding any weight at all now, having no strength left in them.
Seeing this Brenda leapt up and adjusted the rope, allowing him to slide further down on the shaft. She also couldn't help but notice that that he had gotten an enormous erection, caused by the shaft buried in him, pressing against his prostrate. Unaware of this, Brenda thought that perhaps he found ass-fucking enjoyable. This fascinated her and she reached out for the huge blood-engorged shaft. It twitched madly at her touch and she recoiled. Suddenly she had an idea.
She climbed up and straddled the "pony," facing the man. Sliding her slick-wet cunt backward along the smooth edge of the board, she reached the desired position and leaned forward, breasts dangling down until they almost straddled the wood. Her mouth was now inches away from the man's erect cock. She exhaled, her breath flowing hotly against his flesh.
"Ohhhhh. . . " He squirmed and jerked about, urging himself toward the source of heat.
Brenda put her tongue out and licked the clear droplet of pre-come from his straining member. Then she kissed the end of it, and finally ran her whole mouth down around it. Within moments he climaxed, ejecting huge jets of white come into Brenda's mouth.
Not knowing why, only that she wanted to—had to—Brenda swallowed as much of his ejaculate as she could. Remnants of it spurted out between her lips and his slick shaft, spreading across her chin and his taut heaving stomach. She kept sucking as his cock softened and his breathing began to subside. Her hands were around his ass, forcing him down around the butt-plug.
All this time she had been rubbing her cunt across the board between her legs and now she began to climax again herself—the man's cock still in her mouth. She bit down involuntarily, eliciting a shriek from him, which only heightened her pleasure. Brenda shivered and moaned through an intense orgasm, exhaling and sucking in air around his deflating member.
She remained there for a few minutes, her brown hair strewn across the wooden pony, strands of it sticking to his come-spattered thighs. Finally she arose and "dismounted," slapping the man's bare ass as she walked by him.
"Nice. . .Very nice," she said huskily, still panting a little from her own exertions. "I can see that it will be a long evening for both of us."
The sounds of leather against flesh, and the pitiful cries of her victim soon filled the room again.