AngieF

(story continues from Training Rose 7: Cannes to Las Vegas) Part 8: Supreme Champion An elderly three engined Boeing 727 airliner was waiting for us at McCarran airport as we arrived just after dark, a 727 with cigarette burns on the varied hues of its filthy second hand upholstery, blues, greens some even in orange and red check, but despite the fact it smelled like a bear pit all three engines seemed to work and it took off easily enough yet almost as soon as it levelled off it seemed to start descending again through the darkness and the pilot announced, “This is your Captain speaking, don’t bother releasing your seat belts we shall be landing at Dream Land in less than five minutes.” ...

Rose has become something of a living legend around Saddleworth so I persuaded her to tell me her story for a small, or actually not so small, fee. I had to edit some of it and change a couple of identities but I hope you enjoy it. Angie. Part One I cowered in the corner protecting my face as best I could as the blows rained down, five, six, I counted, as they inflamed my tender bare buttocks, left, right, nine, ten, and then he changed to flicking up between my legs, one, two, three swats on my pussy lips cruelly held open by the over tight leather crotch strap of my harness and I gurgled in helpless orgasmic ecstasy. ...

(story continues from Training Rose) Rose has become something of a living legend around Saddleworth so I persuaded her to tell me her story for a small, or actually not so small, fee. I had to edit some of it and change a couple of identities but I hope you enjoy it. Angie. Continued from Part One Part 2: Harrogate The Box, it was a cardboard box. They bent me over the back of something solid like a table, and I think they snipped away so the box went over my back and hid my head completely because the sounds were even more muffled and then they started, they jabbed something up my backside something slippery, and when they pulled it out again I felt the first warm slightly soft penis nudge my poor bruised backside as its owner tried to worm it inside me. I tried to kick but someone grabbed my feet and tied them to something, table legs probably, and then he was inside me and it hurt. ...

(story continues from Training Rose 2: Harrogate) Rose has become something of a living legend around Saddleworth so I persuaded her to tell me her story for a small, or actually not so small, fee. I had to edit some of it and change a couple of identities but I hope you enjoy it. Angie. Continued from Part Two Part 3: The New Groom I woke with the dawn, I ached all over, I realised I was completely naked except for a crude bridle and bit and a collar and leash and a waist belt with a crotch strap which was so tight that it painfully separated my poor abused pussy lips, then I saw the lawn mower and the dirty old blanket daddy had covered me with and I remembered, I was home! ...

(story continues from Training Rose 3: The New Groom) Rose has become something of a living legend around Saddleworth so I persuaded her to tell me her story for a small, or actually not so small, fee. I had to edit some of it and change a couple of identities but I hope you enjoy it. Angie. Continued from Part 3 Part 4: A Particularly Easy Pony to Please “Daddy, what do you mean a I’m a very easy Pony to please!” I demanded as Tom walked away up our driveway towards the road and his parents house barely a mile away. ...

(story continues from Training Rose 4: A Particularly Easy Pony to Please) Part 5: Saddleworth to Cannes We all agreed I needed to train intensively for the Grand Prix at Cannes, but maybe my idea of intensive training, eight hours a day spent actually training, say seven until twelve, with a coffee break around ten and hour and a bit for lunch and and then train till four thirty and then relax maybe see a movie before getting tacked up again and sleeping in a Pony stall at Melton Villa, that and rationing my sex and not riding my motorbike, seemed fair enough to me but no Daddy thought this was unrealistic, especially when some girls had literally been bred for Pony Girl competition. ...

(story continues from Training Rose 5: Saddleworth to Cannes) Part 6: Dressage Henry had actually come up trumps, I had barely arrived back at the farm than he took me to the big barn behind the stables, one I had never been to before, and I saw it contained a half decent training arena. “What do you think of this?” he asked. It was a little black box with a strap. ...

(story continues from Training Rose 6: Dressage) Part 7: Cannes to Las Vegas “What on earth did you want to go and do that for!” Daddy demanded as I stepped down from the podium, or what was left of it after it collapsed when I did my victory jump, to a faint ripple of polite applause with my Cannes grand prix winners gold medal around my neck. I had just won arguably the worlds most prestigious pony-girl event the Cannes Grand Prix outright and yet still he still found cause to criticise me, he really was impossible. ...