Note from Susan - I was told this was written in the assumption of a more experienced ponygirl, which is nice to know before reading it.
***By Paladin***
“Alright you won so here I am wearing white, which by the way you are going to pay for, but this is still the beach and you said this would be new terrain!”
Sasha stood with her hands on her hips and a challenging look on her face. She was wearing white cycle shorts and a tight white crop top with ‘Never Give Up’ stencilled in black stretching across her curves. Of course I was only looking at the writing. The white looked fantastic against her tanned skin and her dark hair was swept up and back into a ponytail.
I snapped my fingers and pointed to the sand, with a last glare she got down on all fours. “Oh you’ll need these.” I dropped a pair of fingerless gloves in front of her. The palms were reinforced with leather.
“The sand’s not that hot?’ She sounded puzzled as she put them on.
I stood over her and sat down on her hips then slid heavily in to the curve of her back. I could feel the muscles adjusting to my weight. I grinned, Sasha was in for a big surprise. I gripped her ponytail in one hand and lightly dug my spurs into her thighs. Sasha moved forward easily over the sand.
“Let’s go over the rules today pony.”
“You got to choose the outfit,” she grumbled. “You get to ride me in new terrain. Then I get to try and throw you again and if I do I get to ride YOU back out!”
I gave her ponytail a playful tweak, Sasha couldn’t see the evil grin on my face. “Exactly right.” I guided her around a clump of beach grass. “Pony, do you know what they call the area where a river leads out into the sea?” I asked it as condescendingly as I could.
Sasha gave a light buck to show she was well aware of my tone. “An estuary,” she replied.
I spurred her up a low rising dune and Sasha responded with hardly any effort at all. “An estuary,” I agreed. “And when the river is low and the tide is out...,”
I reined her in tight at the top of the dune. “You get tidal mud flats.”
“You utter.”
Whatever she was going to call me was lost in a squeal as I brought my hand down on her backside and dug the spurs in.
Sasha charged down the dune and as she hit the mud flats she had to fight to remain upright. Grinning wickedly I pulled on the ponytail, yanking it to the left and spurred her side. Her body turned fast and at the last second she lost balance. Her knees shot out from under her. For a moment her arms held her up but with a whoop I dropped my weight down. Sasha dropped, fully extended like a diver into the mud. Now she knew why I hadn’t made her wear the saddle.
I stood and took a micro-towel out of my pocket. As Sasha got back up to her hands and knees I carefully wiped the mud from her face. Given the mixture of disbelief, horror and pure menace in Sasha’s expression I was very glad that it was me wearing the spurs.
I remounted and a little tentatively urged her on. She moved forward, a little carefully at first but then with growing confidence as she found the most economical way to carry me across the mud and sand.
Part of our deal was that I got to choose when Sasha would get to try and throw me. As you can tell I’d thought this through very carefully. She had been embarrassed and she still had far too much energy to let her loose but I had a plan that was even more evil than she’d expected.
“Who’s your Master pony?” I taunted her to distract her from where we were going.
“Your butt is going to end up smeared across this mud flat!” She growled back.
“Oh is the widdle pony muddy. Poor pony.”
“Bite me!”
“Naughty pony, just for that you have to go faster.” I dug the spurs in as Sasha quickened her pace.
Her muscles had to work harder than normal to keep herself upright and to support my weight but the slipping and jolting as she moved felt great beneath me.
Within a few strides Sasha’s hands had sunk to the wrists in the soft mixture of mud, sand and salt water. She slowed to a walk but I refused to let her rest and spurred her on. We followed a gentle arc that led us parallel with the shallow river.
“This is horrible,” she groaned but worse was to come.
The river bed flattened and widened so much as it approached the sea that within moments Sasha was up to her forearms and then nearly to the elbows. Some steps would drop her chest and stomach into pools of cool mud and she would let out an involuntary squeal each time it happened. After the second time I gave up trying not to laugh.
She was straining to carry me now. Straining to keep moving and her breathing came in shallow gasps.
I gave her the occasional smack on the backside but in reality I knew she was giving everything she had. Sasha actually sighed in relief when I twitched her ponytail and headed her back away from the river.
Mud, sea water, sand and sweat ran off her body as we reached the firmer mud flats. Her head dropped and I took a little of my weight off her back but only for a minute.
“Time to buck pony.”
“Now?” she sounded exhausted but not beaten, not yet.
I tightened my legs around her waist and tickled her with the spurs, “now,” I repeated.
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