Riding the Wooden Pony
Reach down to the V of her body and test her by squeezing some hanging flesh.
See if she is swollen. See if she will hold her silence. See if perhaps she is
ready for the rampant torture of the wooden horse or delicate merciless riding
of the wooden pony.
The wooden horse is a devious device, designed for the slow sexual torture of a
beautiful woman. In its most vicious form, it is a wide triangular wooden
plank, set sharp end up. Imagine her shrill cry of despair as she is helplessly
lifted into the air and set upon the horse, her full body weight supported on
her most tender flesh; her legs are forced wide by the width of the lower part
of the plank and the additional weights attached to her ankles, bury the pointed
plank deep within her most sensitive flesh and keep her from falling off.
Immediately, her ordeal is unbearable.
But there are kinder, gentler wooden horses, wooden ponies. They're lower to
the ground, just high enough to force her to tiptoes to protect her tender
flesh. She straddles it, tied loosely but well enough that she can not dismount
and waits, helpless, as inevitable muscle fatigue slowly sets in.
As you explore her body and test her in small ways, running your fingers around
the curves of her helplessness and lead her motion, is she pliant or willful?
Will she spread herself at your word? Slide your fingers down to the curve of
her breast, then further to her hip, and finally drag them gently along the
soft, tender flesh she is working so hard to protect. Watch as her calves
finally tire after many long minutes. Watch her self-inflicted agony as she
uses the last of her strength to lower herself as gently as possible to the
hard, narrow surface of the pony, wedged between her folds. Her delicate flesh
is pressed between the pony and her pelvis, laying the first of many small
bruises upon her sex.
In moments her muscles can lift her and she rises again, but only for a few
minutes this time. Muscles throbbing, she again lowers herself, carefully
placing her weight on a new, unmarked place. It takes longer to summon the
strength to raise a third time, but after long seconds she points her toes and
pushes against gravity, sweating from the exertion...
Her flesh swells and comfort is impossible and she squirms constantly. She
struggles to protect her delicately purpling flesh, tiring her muscles as her
body's constant strive for motion leaves her "riding the wooden pony."
Reach down to the V of her body, testing her by squeezing some hanging flesh.
See if she is swollen. See if she will hold her silence. See how much she will
endure. See how long she will hold out. Wait for that precious moment of true
submission when she of free-will gives in and drops herself onto the bar between
her legs, giving in to the tortures of her flesh and thrusting herself into the
wood. Then - she is fully yours.
