It was the other that made the difference!
He looped it round the outside of her arms just above each elbow and pulled, pulled it tighter and tighter with his knee in the small of her back. Now she was really hurting as her shoulders came back and her front pushed out.
When he stood back to admire her she was bent backwards like a taut bow, her arse and tits sticking out gloriously. She had already had a very upright stance, her back normally straight to hold the head proudly up, and now she looked really gorgeous.
There was a spontaneous burst of clapping and a few cheers as the brothel keeper stepped forward again and took a kiss before leaving her alone in the ring.
She was still on tiptoe! Lincoln knew she would hold that until he told her otherwise. She better had, he thought grimly. The fucking bitch had been disobedient enough already. Lincoln valued his reputation as a hard man with obedient goods to sell.
He took the next item out of his bag and held it up for all to see.
"Bit!"
They all saw that the girl flinched at the word. But she held her pose and opened her mouth wide.
The brothel keeper took it over to her. It seemed to be designed to be as uncomfortable as possible, and that pleased him. It had rings on each end, and strapped round her head. When it was in place her mouth was held open just widely enough to become increasingly agonising after a while without spoiling her looks.
Her tongue was available. It made taking another kiss very easy.
She was coming along well, he thought. He was only uneasy at the unwelcome thought that the price for her would still be going up! Higher and higher. Maybe he should never have got into this, but there was no denying that he was finding it a real turn-on to have such a beautiful creature so totally at his mercy – not that he intended to show any. He never did. It was not his style, cruelty was. He could hardly wait to have her at his place, to do a few things to her that Lincoln would never have thought of. He considered Lincoln a bit of a dullard. Yes, a real thickhead, was Lincoln. But he had done alright with this specimen, he had to admit that. Fortunately he would be able to get her for far less than she would be worth to him. Oh yes, whatever the price he would score with the shows.
Next Lincoln took a multi-coloured plume out of the bag. "Have to change tails," he said, clapping his hands again.
The girl bent forward till her head was below her knees, wincing as the straps tightened even further. Lincoln screwed out the tiger tail and brushed the tip of it over her tense bottom, so beautifully displayed.
"She expects six or more with this whenever I take it out," he said. "But as this is a special do, I suggest you line up and give her one each."
"Make it two," someone shouted, amidst laughter and jostling.
"OK, two it is. Hard as you like, lads. This one is trained to take a lot, believe me."
They did believe him. They knew his reputation.
"What if we exceed our quota?"
"What?"
"What if we hit her more than twice?"
Lincoln smiled. "Damn all I can do 'bout that!"
It was quite a while before the little ceremony was completed. The girl stood there on tiptoes, her chest heaving, her bottom glowing, her eyes wet.
"Now," said Lincoln, "I've taught her to make like a horse."
"What?"
"Listen."
Lincoln clapped his hands, and the girl raised her head and whinnied and pawed the ground. She really did sound like a horse. Probably it was the only sound she could make while she had the bit in. The brothel keeper was thrilled. And he was wondering how badly her jaws were aching already. Quite a lot, he fancied, it would soon be real agony. Two shows a night? He would leave the bit in place between them. Only a couple of hours, but it would give him a hard on just knowing about it.
My God, he'd have some real fun with this one!
Maybe he'd tell her to neigh when she couldn't take any more but would rather have one of his very special beatings instead. Then he'd come and look at her and laugh and shake his head…
What further delights might there be in store?
"Straps!" said Lincoln.
It didn't take the brothel keeper long to figure that one out. Only one set of straps were necessary. They ran from the outer ends of the bit to the girth belt at centre back, and held the head up nicely.
My God she looked a treat now!
"Shoes!" said Lincoln.
They were high heeled shoes with fur round to make them look like horse's feet. The catch was, they were high heeled without any heels. And, the brothel keeper discovered as he put his hand inside, spiked inside. Great! There was no way she could put her feet down properly wearing these.
He went over and fitted them, holding up one foot at a time as she struggled to hold her balance.
Then she was ready!
"What now?" he asked. "Do we beat her now?"
"Oh no," said Lincoln. "We parade her!"
"And then we beat her."
"And then we race her!"
"Of course! And then we beat her?"
Lincoln just smiled. His smile was enigmatic, giving nothing away.
He just clapped his hands.
The pony started to walk round the ring. The ring was so small that everyone could touch her as she passed them. Her posture was immaculate, upright, head up, feet raised like a real horse.
The brothel keeper was amazed that she could be made to walk done up like that. Just by a clap of the hands! The dildo alone would be hurting like hell. He nearly ejaculated in his pants at the thought of it.
Lincoln clapped his hands again.
The pony broke into a trot, knees right up to her midriff. Her face shone with sweat and tears poured from her eyes as she trotted round and round.
The applause was deafening but Lincoln wasn't finished yet.
He clapped his hands again.
Now the pony was running, running hard, running her heart out.
They watched in awed silence as she ran round and round the little circle.
Lincoln had his watch out.
"Five minutes," he said.
But after four and a half she staggered and fell, collapsing in a heap on the sawdust.
He went over and slashed down with his riding crop. "She's let me down again," he complained. "She'll have to suffer for that, or you'll have no authority over her."
"Right! I understand."
"And now," said Lincoln to the men gathered round, "we need a ten minute break for refreshments. Leave the pony alone, if you don't mind -" a couple of men stepped back from her – "or she'll be no good for racing."
"And we haven't had the beating yet," came a voice.
"Exactly," said Lincoln. "So fucking well leave her alone, then."
He strode off towards the little bar that had been erected near the main doors. The brothel keeper went with him. A few men stayed with the pony. It was a bit much to expect otherwise.
"How can we set up a steeplechase?" wondered Lincoln, lifting a foaming glass to his fleshy lips.
"A steeplechase?"
"Yeah. A steeplechase. Do you have to be a parrot? A place she can run and jump things."
"Boxes, maybe?"
"Sure, boxes'll do fine."
"I'll see to it."
"Right. Make a fairly difficult course. The betting will be how many jumps she makes before she falls."
By the time Lincoln had finished a couple of drinks the brothel keeper had arranged a course of ten jumps round the walls of the shed. Some bunting had been found and music was to hand, and one of the Drivers was taking the bets.
"What if she completes the course?" asked Lincoln.
"Jackpot!" said the man. "If that's what you bet on. Everyone puts in a tenner and says how many, one to ten, and the pool goes to everyone who has guessed right. Nobody's said over eight so far."
"I'll go for broke," said Lincoln, putting down his tenner. He'd score well if he won, and he thought he knew how to fix that.
He went back to where the girl lay writhing beneath the weight of several Drivers, and pulled them off with a curse. As he stood her at the start he whispered, "You go all the way, or else! I've bet on you finishing the course."