I guess Jed was right about me being a bit of a poseur because, when Pete had finished and I was left standing, waiting for the racing, I felt just fine. I liked the feeling of being on display, of knowing my oiled body was shown at its best. I liked the way the pony tail fell down behind, tickling the back of my thighs and I liked the way my prick stood hard and proud in its cage of straps. I even liked the way I was fastened to the sulky, hobbled and blindfolded. It made it more impersonal. I was a pony, on display, not a human being. I knew that pride comes before a fall and all that but I knew I looked good and I didn’t give a damn who knew it.
This pride was, if anything, reinforced when the punters arrived. There were more than a few who wanted to run their hands over my body, to cop a feel, implied that I had a body worth feeling. There was quite a bit of chat about how I was the favourite and about my rivalry with Jed. My red nail varnish was noticed and one bright spark put two and two together and commented that he had seen me as Belinda Bombshell at Mr. Bothwick’s party.
“If he’s as good at running as he is at sucking prick then he’s a dead cert!” was the comment. I wondered whether the speaker was talking from first hand knowledge or from reputation. Whichever, it provoked plenty of laughter.
When we got to the actual racing Mr H announced that it would be a circle race. I hadn’t got a clue what this was but there was a buzz from the crowd; this was evidently quite a favourite. After some time to allow for the betting my hobble was removed and, still blindfolded, I was led out onto the course. However, once there, I was led on far further than I had remembered it being to the start line. I would have guessed I had been led to maybe half way around. It was only when my blinkers were opened up that I could see why this was. I wasn’t at the start line. I looked around, as much as the blinkers would let me. I, and seven other ponies, had been positioned equidistant around the course. I also noticed something else that was new. In this race the jockeys were carrying what I later found out to be called carriage whips, long flexible rods with a short whip at the end. I was still confused over what was going on but, when an air horn sounded and Pete flicked the reins it was obviously time to start running.
I had been slightly surprised by the start and, therefore, not the quickest away but a quick sting in my backside from the whip woke me up and I was soon catching up on the pony in front of me. Pete waited until we hit the straight and then flicked the whip against my backside again and I gave it all I had and powered past him. And then, in front of me, I watched as a pony was overtaken and I started to understand when I saw him being pulled into the side. We came around the big curve at the end and, as we entered the back straight, there was yet another pony that had been pulled over. Evidently any pony who was overtaken was eliminated. This wasn’t about being first, it was about last man standing. I had taken out one and now seen two others pulled over. There were at most only five of us left.
Of course, with fewer ponies racing the gaps between us were getting longer. This was going to be all about stamina. Still, that was my forte, I was probably the only non smoker among the ponies and, if the pace was beginning to get to me, it must be killing them. In fact I was closing on the pony in front of me and, as we came into the next straight, I slipped past, easy as pie.
And then, although there were still four of us left, the air horn sounded, the race was over and Pete slowed me down to a trot before running me back to the start line and into the centre circle. As I was being parked up I watched the other eight ponies being led out for their heat. It didn’t take much to work out that they were taking four from each heat into the finals. That meant that there was going to be quite a wait. There was the other heat to go and then the qualifiers from that heat would need time to get their breath back. Pete refitted my hobble and closed my blinkers so I was blindfolded again. While we waited he rubbed me down with some more posing oil and massaged my legs to prevent stiffness.
Once again I was attracting quite a few punters. Of course, with circle racing, the betting wasn’t just about winning but on how many each pony would eliminate. I gathered the odds on my winning were quite short but, in the final, as it was a race until only one pony was left, there was quite a bit of discussion about how many scalps I would take.
“What do you reckon, Pete?” one of the punters asked.
“Can’t rightly say but I’ll tell you this, College Boy is one of the best ponies we’ve ever had in here. Not so fast over the shorter distances but for the long pull like a circle race, put your money on him to win. Dead cert.”
“So how about I take him round the stables in the meanwhile?”
“Sorry, Geoff, you know the rules. College Boy is party only.”
“What sort of rule is that? What makes him so special?”
“You’ll have to ask Mr. Mason that. He’s the one who makes the rules.”
“You’ll have to ask Mr. Mason what?”
“Oh, hello, Mr. Mason, I was just reminding Geoff that College Boy is party only.”
“That’s right, Geoff.”
“And why is that then?”
“Because that’s the way my top customers prefer it. He’s booked out to Sam Hastings tonight and Sam wants him unsullied. Come on, there are fifteen other ponies to choose from.”
“Yeah, but none as pretty as this one.”
Geoff, at least I assumed it was Geoff, reached down and cuddled my balls. It was odd being discussed in this way. It was pleasing to know that I was desirable but, even after all this time, it was still disconcerting to have it brought home to me how much my body was being bought and sold. I wondered about this Sam Hastings and what he would want from me. Was I in for another night on my knees sucking pricks or would he want to keep me for himself?
I had plenty of time to ponder this before the final of the circle race. I could hear the second heat taking place and the hubbub that went along with it. Then there was another wait before my hobble was removed and I was, once again, led out onto the course. Even when the blinkers were opened I could only see straight ahead and had only the vaguest notion of which other ponies were involved. One thing I would put good money on was that Jed was one of them. He wasn’t the sort to fall in the heats. However, I didn’t have time to look about me. Pete had barely got me lined up before the air horn sounded and we were off.
I knew this was going to be a stamina event so I didn’t start off too quickly and this was nearly my undoing. The measured pace I had set had allowed the pony behind me to come up on my inside and it was only sharp sting of the whip that alerted me to the danger. As it was I had to go around the outside of the bend and only just held the other pony off. This shook me out of my complacency and I started to realise I would have to work at it. Pete kept using the whip to urge me on so I upped the pace and started in on the pony in front.