The members of the other club had arrived on the previous day and there had been a party in the evening - at which, apart from getting to know one another, the members of the two clubs had had quite interesting chats about techniques and methods of training their 'girls. There was speculation as to whether this meeting was unique or whether there were others like it but the secrecy under which their sport had to be run meant that other people never heard about them.
One member of the visiting club suggested that there was no real reason why the sport should always remain clandestine and that events could be held to raise money for charity - or even for club funds. Their ponies had been sufficiently well broken to the bit that an outsider could easily be given the impression that they fully consented to their treatment. Indeed, some of them had originally volunteered to become ponygirls. Whether they would choose to remain so having experienced the clubs' discipline was more doubtful - but they were hardly going to be consulted now. One did not ask opinions of livestock!
She didn't need to point out to her fellow-members that the ponies' modified tongue-tendon arrangements meant that even the most inquisitive journalist couldn't interview them, even if they temporarily escaped their harnessed captivity.
In the meantime, the two clubs could compete against each other, and it was decided that the winning club in each event should be given two points (one each in the case of a tie) and that the overall winners should be given a little silver cup that had been presented by one of the members. No doubt, the losing team would be able to issue a challenge at some later date to attempt to wrest it back.
Sylvia was glad that her event was the first one on the programme because, although she was looking forward to an exciting drive, if she could get a good result she could then relax and watch the other events without worrying about her race. Her event, over about a mile-and-a-quarter, was mainly on the flat - although there were some dips and hillocks and one fairly steep slope near the end. It was a one against one race, with one member from each team driving a pony girl harnessed to a light two-wheel sulky.
Sylvia's opponent was a girl called Marion whom she had got to know quite well at the party and found very pleasant. The members of the home team were to wear yellow scarves and the visitors, red ones. Such identification marks were hardly needed in this first race, though, as Marion's ponygirl had a long, dark mane in distinct contrast to the short blonde crop of Sylvia's chosen beast.
Sylvia had given her 'girl two days rest prior to the meet, but before that had driven her at race speed around the course many times, which gave her quite an advantage over Marion. The blonde pony was a relatively new addition to Sylvia's string (which now numbered some six 'girls) and had originally been an keen amateur runner. Her athletic physique and excellent stamina - even compared to her other super-fit stablemates - had caught Sylvia's acquisitive eye one day in a city park: and they had condemned her to ponyhood. After several months of breaking-in and general conditioning work, she had reached the peak of competitiveness, but Sylvia was beginning to have some doubts as to whether the 'girl was completely "broken". She dreaded the embarrassment of an unruly pony showing her up in front of the assembled membership of both clubs!
The race was due to start at eleven o'clock that morning and Sylvia had her 'girl harnessed to the sulky and on the starting line a good quarter of an hour before that. She double-checked the harnessing, making sure it was very tight and that the "bearing" rein from the bridle to the girth-strap was extra tight - she liked a 'girl's head held well up and held rigidly still. Partly because it looked a better turn-out but also because if they were allowed to bob their heads up and down the reins could cause a mildly-unpleasant jerking of their driver's wrist. She traced the reins from the snaffle bit under the belly and made sure that they were tight in the hairless crotch. Arms pinned in the small of her back caused the ponygirl's breasts to thrust proudly in front, nipple rings glinting in the bright sunshine. Maybe the uncompromising severity of her harnessing would remove any thought of breaking discipline from her pony's mind.
Marion led her ponygirl out about five minutes before the race was due to start and, apart from having no "bearing" rein and somewhat less tight harnessing her turn out was very much the same as Sylvia's.
With about a minute to go, both drivers got into their sulkies and picked up their reins and whips. Their 'girls felt the change in their harnessing and pawed nervously at the ground. They were as keyed up as their drivers - and considerably more apprehensive. It was a swelteringly hot day and the spectators were all watching from the shade of the clubhouse veranda - no doubt the ponygirls envied their mistresses even more keenly than usual as the tinkle of the ladies' laughter mixed with the clinking of their iced drinks. Tightly trussed into their leather harnesses they were sweating-up lightly already - and they knew all too well what was before them and what they must do.
Just before the "off" everything went quiet as all the chatter ceased - and then suddenly the starting pistol cracked into the warm summer air - startling birds perched in the big trees that lined the course. Almost simultaneously, two long driving whips lashed down on the naked quarters of the ponygirls, who flung themselves at their traces. Marion gave her pony just one cut, but Sylvia brought her whip down hard three more times on the jiggling, pumping buttocks directly in front of her eyes, raising fresh red welts over the faint tracery of white marks that graced all her 'girls.
Because of this, perhaps, or maybe because of her better knowledge of the track, Sylvia was soon out in front - with Marion tucked in closely behind. She doubted that she could maintain this very fast pace but hoped she might "lose" Marion early on. Sylvia's ponygirl - with her head held rigidly still and with blinkers that only allowed her to see directly in front - did not know, of course, how far the other sulky was behind. She only knew that in was behind, and if she wanted to avert the wrath of her inventively cruel mistress, she had to keep it that way.
She also knew that her mistress was making her run at a speed she could not maintain - and the spiked steel bit that filled her mouth and the thin leather reins that chafed the lips of her vulva were not helping her at all. She just hoped that the other ponygirl was suffering as much and therefore would gain no advantage. She dared to attempt to slacken her pace slightly, but this immediately brought Sylvia's whip swiping viciously across her flanks six or seven times and she was soon back at the speed her mistress required.
By the time they has passed the half-way mark and were going up a little hill, Sylvia glanced back and realized she was now comfortably ahead - and led Marion by over one hundred yards. She was delighted and it looked like she was going to lead from start to finish. Excitedly, she snapped: "Faster, you idle bitch!", to her straining ponygirl and once again began to swipe the whip down, across the well-marked hindquarters glistening before her.
The 'girl, smarting and aching and sweating, pulling her excitable owner at a breakneck pace up quite a slope under the burning sun, heard those words "Faster, you idle bitch" and felt the searing kiss of the whalebone driving whip as it played over her rump - and knew fully what it was to be a ponygirl.
She might not have believed she could possibly have moved any faster, but the sting of a well-applied whip is a pretty good incentive and Sylvia was certainly an expert at whipping ponygirls, and in spite of her distress, the panting, sweating 'girl found herself leaning even more into her carriage harness and the sulky fairly flew up the hill.
As they had now established quite a lead and were not all that far from the finish, Sylvia allowed a slight slackening of the pace as she descended the hill. Her 'girl was allowed to catch her breath and steady her gait, both of which had become quite ragged. However, when the ponygirl came to the last one hundred and fifty yards of the course, the whip snapped out again and she drove past the finish line with her pony stretched taught in harness, the whip flick-flacking smartly from buttock to buttock, and the reins sawing remorselessly in her crotch.
Sylvia drove past the cheering and clapping spectators and felt very proud of herself. She had had an enjoyable drive, won the first two points for the Yellows and felt that her 'girl was sufficiently disciplined for public display - her gamble had paid off.
She got a nice cool drink and settled down to watch the next race: it was to be over a slightly shorter course, with two competitors from each club riding high on the backs of their 'girls. Already the four ponygirls were waiting, standing at attention behind the starting line, naked and smooth-skinned, with bits and bridles affixed and with their arms folded underneath the smart leather saddles on their backs. The riders who were having a last-minute cool drink looked equally smart and ready for business, with their crisp starched shirts and tight jodhpurs. They all seemed anxious to get started and fidgeted with their 'girls harness or tapped their shiny black riding boots with long 'girl crops. The Reds had brought two strapping Scandinavian 'girls that towered over their petite mistresses and were the favourites to win this event. The Yellow's ponies looked apprehensively at each other. This was all a fine game for their mistresses, but they dreaded the consequences of failing the elegant ladies who owned them, body and soul. Maybe their terror would spur them to upset the formbook, Sylvia thought.
Sylvia was really enjoying herself - this meeting was already a success and no doubt would get even better as the various events unfolded . Perhaps it might be the first of many such meetings and as that woman had said at the party, perhaps one day there might even be a National Pony Girl Championships. She pulled herself back to the present as the ponygirls were mounted by their riders and were called under starters orders for the second event.
Behind the veranda, a lass led the two exhausted ponies towards the tack room, where Marion was waiting for her 'girl with a whip, and a grim expression.