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.
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