This is the account of what happened to me during my poor days as a student in the South East of England. I should say that this is the richest part of the country and, of course, where there's money there are always horsy girls.
The allowance for my education was only a paltry sum and there was no way that any self-respecting student could party on it. At university it was normal for students to use two methods in which to make extra cash: a) sell anything of value (hi-fi, musical instruments, clothes, cameras, watches, jewellery, etc.); Or b) get a job. The preferred method was always the former (working being an alien concept to idle students). The problem always arose when one had sold every commodity of any worth and was then faced with living off rice and baked beans for the foreseeable future, without any prospect of being able to get any booze.
And so, with this dire situation looming, I decided that I would try to find some part time work.
The university campus was out of the city, which was obviously to stop the students from running amok and molesting the daughters of the local citizens.
We were surrounded by green fields and on many a sunny day we would see horsy girls ride past, naturally looking down upon us, presumably considering us students to be inferior beings.
By chance, one morning, I was thumbing a lift back from a night out in the city, whereupon a young lady stopped to pick me up in a sports car. The girl I'd been screwing the previous night was nice, but this one was really horny. As she accelerated away, spinning the wheels, I glanced down and saw that she was wearing a skintight pair of riding jodhpurs. Her legs worked up and down on the pedals, stretching the material tightly around her crotch.

Daniella dug her spurs into her horse's belly and kicked him on, and went flying over the high hedge and the wide ditch on the other side. It was the kind of obstacle which horses seemed to remember - and often wanted to refuse to jump. But Daniella would have none of it. She had been riding since an early age and was most proficient at controlling the huge beasts.
A flick of her crop across the horse's flank and it galloped across the field with Daniella keeping a tight rein on the athletic animal. As she pulled the horse down to a walk and then put him into trot, her boobs bounced up and down and swung to and fro. Her shapely buttocks rose up and down in the saddle and her pussy rubbed along the shiny leather. She enjoyed making a horse gallop at full pelt, but the most sexually gratifying pace for her was the trot.
Ashley peered through the bushes and watched as Daniella trotted the horse round and round in circles. He loved the way in which her spurs were constantly digging away at the horse's belly, and the way she kept slapping her crop across its arse. The horse was covered in sweat, and his mouth was white and frothy. Ashley could see that the horse was exhausted and really didn't want to be there. But Daniella wouldn't let up. If the horse faltered even a tiny bit then she would shout at it and slash her crop across its dark, shiny body.
As Ashley enjoyed the display, his hand moved up and down more and more quickly on his bulging cock. He loved to watch girls ride. And of all the girls he spied on, Daniella was the best, even if he didn't know her name. Daniella's crop lashed the horse and her spurs could be heard banging into its sides.

Serving as a groom for some years, I have seen and heard many things. But nothing equals an experience I had last year...
The advert read: "Groom Required. Male. Up to to 30 Years. Excellent physique. Hard working. Fitness, strength, stamina and willingness more important than training."
I replied in the usual way to the box number provided and received a reply from a lady simply signing herself "Miss Jenna". She had given a phone number, but no address. However, that was her prerogative. Perhaps she feared prowlers. Our telephone conversation was brief, and I was a little bewildered as to why she seemed more interested in my height, build and state of health, rather than my qualifications and work record. The pay and conditions seemed generous and I accepted on the strength of what she told me.
As I drove towards Dorset (in the South of England) with all my gear on the back seat of the car, I made up little fantasies about the mysterious Miss Jenna. Maybe she would young, beautiful, incredibly rich, and looking for a husband? Maybe she had given up on the "chinless wonders" who belonged to the horsy and hunting set? Maybe she was seeking a more rough and ready type? Maybe...? As I turned into the lane as per the instructions which she had given me, I pulled myself together. One thing I must do was lose the erection which was, by now, almost breaking out of my jodhpurs. My first sight of Miss Jenna set my pulse racing and my underpants bulging once more. She was absolutely stunning, and I was determined to make a good impression.
After settling in for a couple of weeks, I decided that I would try and make a make a move on my new employer. An old, wizened man who was only ever referred to as "Willy", and who lived in a derelict caravan in the yard, advised me earnestly, "Don't never look at the Mistress. Leave while you've still got the chance."
Overcome by lust and longing, I naturally ignored the old fool, assuming that he was jealous of my youth. Miss Jenna and her friends had been hunting all day and, I observed through the dining room window, had just finished supper. Straightening myself up and buttoning my smart jacket, I knocked confidently on the front door. The porch light went on and Miss Jenna appeared in her riding kit, her feet bare and her blouse half undone.

Mistress Tia and Mistress Wanda squirmed with delight in each other’s arms. The bed shook backwards and forwards, such was the energy of their passion. Mistress Tia clanked the hefty chain which reached under the bed, and tugged upon it. The male slave who had been cringing below, was quickly dragged out from under his cover.
“Pleasure,” gasped Mistress Tia. “Give us both pleasure.”
The slave was one of a very rare breed in Cruellan society; he was a privileged pleasure slave. It was his duty to perform and satisfy. The two beautiful young Ladies continued kissing and licking each other’s bodies. Without intruding beyond his remit, the slave also started licking. His tongue lapped long and slow along the length of Mistress Wanda’s juicy pussy lips.

Mistress Vixen trampled through the Cruellan woodlands, enjoying the peace and tranquillity. The day was warm and she was coolly dressed in bikini top, miniskirt and boots. Although she was merely taking a pleasurable stroll, she was also checking the traps which she had set around the woods. There had been trouble recently with runaway slaves and there was still one on the loose.
As she walked, she noticed that several twigs were broken along the path and there were marks in the soil to indicate that a large animal, or slave, had passed by. Mistress Vixen was an expert tracker and she stealthily followed the animal’s tracks. If it was a wild boar, or a deer, she would shoot it and have it collected and taken back to her house for its meat. If it was a slave, then she would capture it and take it in alive.
Looking carefully at the ground, Mistress Vixen came across some small lumps of excreta. She recognized them immediately as slave dung and knew that a man must be in the vicinity. She proceeded with caution, not wishing to alert the male to her impending arrival.
Picking up a stick, she armed herself in readiness for any trouble. Of course, as always, she was carrying a small pistol, just in case the slave should put up any resistance.
Then, as she continued deeper into the forest, carefully following the slave tracks, she saw a thin, white figure in the distance. He was scampering about in some bushes, foraging for food. Mistress Vixen kept her distance and observed the creature. Occasionally he picked up objects from the ground and stuffed them into his mouth. It was obvious that he was eating grubs and worms.
Stealthily, Vixen stalked her prey.

Mistress Fenella pressed her foot down harder on the accelerator pedal. She could see the slave running across the field ahead. It pleased her to see him running so hard. She had warned him that if he got caught then he would live to regret it. But whenever Mistress Fenella had gone on a slave chase, the slave had never got away. In reality, it was an impossibility that a slave could outrun a 4x4 across the fields.
Spinning the car around, she circled him. He was like a rat in a trap, unable to escape in any direction. She swerved and wheel-spun, laughing out loud. Then, pulling away from him, she would let him run again. He darted across the field, like a frightened hare. In the distance, he could see an escape route where her car could not follow. His lungs pounded as he tried to make good his escape.
He could see over his shoulder that the front fender of the car was getting closer and closer. Mistress Fenella accelerated gently so that the car just nudged the slave, encouraging him to run faster. Then, after another couple of hundred metres, she pushed her foot down gradually on the gas. There was a slight bump as metal hit skin and bone. He tripped and fell. His body narrowly escaped being crushed under the wheels of the heavy vehicle.

Lady Bella and the nurse enjoyed a sumptuous meal of rare delicacies: sheep's eyes; lambs tongues; frogs legs; ox tails; pigs trotters; hearts; brains; rump steak; quails; and a huge bowl of barbecued prairie orchids.
Sally was kept very busy trotting to and fro from the kitchen.
`You're such a treasure,' Bella enthused to the nurse. 'The patience and kindness you showed towards Horsetail was quite amazing.'
The nurse smiled broadly and shrugged modestly, 'It's what I'm trained for. It's what I'm paid for.'
After supper, Bella arose from the table as the nurse went to leave, and gave her a long, deep kiss, fully on the lips. Sally looked on, envious of such an outward display of affection. Then, just as she was feeling totally despondent about her lowly position, the nurse came over to her. Her wonderful, caring, loveable nature must have made her aware of Sally's feeling of exclusion. As Sally felt the nurse's pretty, pink tongue slide into her mouth and softly tickle her own tongue, she knew that there couldn't be a bad bone in her body. She was so kind, so considerate, so generous with her feelings - and her gentle kisses.
`She is a truly beautiful person,' Bella said to Sally as the nurse walked back to the interrogation chamber in the sweet, scented, night air.
Overhearing this comment, the nurse smiled to herself. She unlocked the heavy door and entered. Horsetail was still securely fastened to the framework.

The nurse entered the chamber to find Horsetail on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor. `My, my, you have made a quick recovery. lad,' she commented casually. 'You may as well continue while I get things ready for you.'
As the pretty nurse prepared her tools, the door opened and Bella entered.
`Oh, how pretty,' enthused the nurse, admiring Bella's figure-hugging mini-dress.
`I thought red might be a suitable colour for interrogation,' Bella said. 'What do you think?' And with that, she spun round and round across the floor.
The nurse definitely approved. She turned to Horsetail who was grovelling on the floor. 'There, isn't that nice,' she said. `Your Mistress has got changed especially for you.'
Horsetail glanced up for a moment, still continuing with his chore.
`Over here,' the nurse called to him after another few minutes of preparation.
Full of trepidation the slave crawled his way over to the two ladies. He quickly averted his eyes as the nurse nonchalantly slipped off her jacket, exposing her magnificent breasts. Within a minute the lad's hands were secured behind his back to the metal framework. A long, leather bullwhip was put over the top bar, then noosed around his neck. Bella was pleased as she tugged on the sturdy whip handle and saw the slave rise up onto his toes. He spluttered. The nurse knew that this must be straining his muscles. The pulling pressure on his wrists was adequate. His limbs were stretched up nicely for input. Bella noticed the nice bruises on his back and the soles of his feet. Up his legs were the marks of thistles, thorns and nettles. There were several whip marks on his thighs. Bella rubbed her legs together, feeling the warmth between her thighs. His discomfort was a satisfying confirmation of her own rightfully superior status as opposed to the unenviable status of a runaway about to be questioned.
`Well, darling,' whispered the nurse to the moaning boy. 'We have been getting ourselves into a bit of trouble, haven't we? So, let's see what we can do about getting you to tell the truth.'
She smiled at Horsetail, then clasped her fingers firmly around his cheeks. His eyes blinked in fear as she waggled his chin from side to side.
`There now, we will soon help our Mistress, won't we dear boy?'
His chest was thumping with fear.

The call came through as Lady Bella lay in the warm soapy water of her bath. Sally, her maid had been in the middle of the ritual of massaging Bella's toes, a task which the servant enjoyed, since her mistress found it so sensual. Sally lifted the phone and handed it to Bella.
`Mistress, we have a runner...'
Sally jerked upright. It was Officer Ruth. So, one of their young offenders - their `weeds' had taken a run. Was it Dandelion, or maybe Bindweed?
`Horsetail has gone missing in South Wood. The head boy says he cannot have been gone for more than 10 minutes. All other slaves are present.'
`You know what to do,' said Lady Bella. 'Plan C.'
`Yes, mistress.'
Bella wondered whether she should leap out of the bath, dress and ride off to direct the pursuit. It was the first runner she had experienced. The chase could be fun, and her presence could stimulate the staff and impress the offenders.
`Continue with the toes,' said Bella as Sally replaced the phone.
She noticed that Sally was showing interest. Perhaps, thought Bella, Sally was thinking of her own run last week. Occasionally Sally had asked to witness the punishment of offenders, but Bella had always refused the requests since she had no wish to cause the girl distress, or, worse, to have Sally plead for leniency. Just how much Sally sympathised with the offender was shown by her offer to take on the role of runaway in a contingency exercise. In a moment of weakness Bella had agreed.
The exercise had gone well. Officer Ingrid had reached Tower Hill within minutes and, using powerful binoculars, kept watch on the open areas surrounding the farm. Officer Ruth, together with her wolfhound, had spurred her horse south by road ready to intercept and was seated on the bridge, awaiting a telephone call from Ingrid. Strapped to the saddle of her horse were a pair of spreaders and handcuffs. Bella remained in the Mansion, monitoring the phone calls.
Sally had picked the obvious southern route through the wood rather than try to climb out of the valley by the exposed north route. She had been allowed half an hour's start. Despite wearing stout boots and without the impediment of the wide iron collar (`You should wear one - for realism' - had been Bella's joking remark) the runaway was easily spotted as she struggled through the wood onto open moorland.

Peter read the advertisement through again. It sounded just like his dream job. The pay was good and it was a live-in
position. Although the details were a bit sketchy, he felt certain that he must apply. In his best handwriting, which wasn't exactly the best, he carefully constructed a letter setting out his previous experience in the world of horses. He'd been a show jumper's groom an event groom, had done a stint as a lad in a racing stable, and had latterly worked for the Tamarind Manor Stud. Being employed to work with stallions had been his most enjoyable job to date. Working in such a virile environment had increased his own sex drive no end - as many a young stable lass could vouch for!
As requested, he gave a brief resume of his personal circumstances. This didn't take long, as he was single, had no family, no dependents, no property to speak of, in fact, no real ties at all. He read the letter thoroughly, correcting the errors, and gave it a good luck kiss before popping it into an envelope. Into the kitchen to stick it down with a dab of water - his tongue was very sensitive to unpleasant tastes - then off for the three mile hike to the local post box.
It was several days before a reply arrived. Peter eagerly opened the thick, crisp envelope, but was careful not to tear it.
A heavenly smell of scent exuded from the letter as he unfolded its heavy creases. He held it to his nose and gently inhaled. It was intoxicating.
"Dear Mister Boyle," he read aloud in his rural burr, "Thank you for your reply to my advertisement..."
Within the week, Peter had, as suggested by the respondent, given immediate notice to his landlord that he would be leaving his cottage, and was railbound for the west country. As the train pulled into Launceston station Peter grabbed the tatty holdall which contained all his worldly possessions and stepped from the carriage. The train departed and he found himself alone on the platform. He was supposed to be picked up and driven out to the farm.
"Mister Boyle," asked a soft female voice. Peter turned. He had to look twice. There, on the platform, stood an apparition. A scintillating blonde with a long, fluffy pony-tail, wearing the teeniest of pink shorts and a skimpy top.
She smiled brightly and extended her hand towards him.
"Miss Chalcross," she announced. "Call me Lindy."
"How do, Miss," he replied.
"Is that all the luggage you have?" she enquired.
"Ar. "
As Peter followed Lindy across the booking hall, he was mesmerized by the slenderness of her waist and the flare of her hips. She had, to his mind, the perfect shape. Not unlike that of a thoroughbred mare.
Outside in the station car park, Peter glanced around for the ubiquitous Four Wheel Drive Range Rover. However, as he followed his new employer in silence, it became apparent that she was making towards a pony and trap which was parked in a quiet corner.