[editor: In Part 8, I described how Lisa had been taken to the Board of Overseer’s for her Price Evaluation prior to her participation in her CLAIMING--DRESSAGE event, though she didn’t know what could soon to happen to her way of life. On the day of Lisa’s Dressage performance in front of a distinguished audience of 22 veteran pony mare owners and guests, I had Gary in the staging area to watch his wife’s preparation. I wasn’t sure how he could take the treatment she was to endure, but so far he had not interfered in my authority over her training.]
Gary was most concerned about the CLAIMING that was to follow after this event. He had placed a claiming price of $ 100,000 on his wife, which the Board had adjusted to $ 75,000. If a USSA member bid that price or more, she would be sold off , and the only recourse I would have (a privilege) as her Overseer would be to match the highest bid. I’d have 6 months to raise the money, which for me would have meant most likely selling off my sister-in-law Judy at one of the upcoming Mature Mare Auctions. (It’s important to remember that a mare could not be sold without her permission – though refusal would mean banishment for not only J-Ranch but al USSA activities.)
Gary had not seen the routine I had put together. It was a rough one – both physically and mentally for her. Lisa looked magnificent for a lady of her age. Her hair was extra short and curly, and I had some blue highlights put into her white/blond hair to accentuate her vintage, not to diminish it.
Her lips wore a bright orange lipstick and her nose had been shined up with a little oil. Her breasts were bare and in the tightest metal ring bra so that they stuck out like purplish footballs from her frailish frame. She wore the 7-inch punishment heels, the highest she could navigate with, and beige stockings with the old fashioned rib down the back.
As I removed her glasses, she took one last pathetically loving look at Gary. He gave her a reassuring smile and a nod of the head, which made her eyes well up in tears of gratitude.
[Dressage-Claiming is a two part event. The Compulsories and the Free Style. Our stiffest competition was to come from Joanne’s fabulous Judy M. in the Compulsories, whose high-waisted majestic form and pretty face was a perennial winner at Dressage.]
FROM LISA’S DIARY: “Dear Diary, I was about to embark on possibly the most important day of my life – the Claiming Dressage competition in which I could be sold off like some farm animal. All I could do, Diary, was to do my very best and trust in My Master and my Overseer.
After the most grueling and detailed preparation I had ever received at the hands of the head Japanese groom, I was readied for Part 1, the mandatory sulky-pull around a quite complex course of pylons, blindfolded!
My bottom was shined up like a Christmas ornament, and I was fitted with a flowing anal pony tail that matched my white hair to a “t”. All the ladies in the event ( Judy, Bea, Marilyn, and little old me) had to be fitted in identical tack. As all the girls, I was bent over in front of the rig, making pulling so very, very difficult.
We were nude but for our tails, stockings and high heels! The only variation allowed was ones Master’s choice of reins. Judy, the favorite for sure, was fitted with nipple reins. Bea, a field mare and maybe the only lady I felt I could beat, wore the traditional mouth bridle (though I suspect it included the deep-gullet-rob attachment when I saw how fast her head turned with the slightest tug on the reins by her driver. Marilyn was, in my judgment, rather unattractive, but had the most massive chest – so much so her Master had bosoms strapped down tight to her sides. Her reins were attached to her ears! Diary, can you imagine such cruelty?
When it was my turn to get my reins I knew I was in for it when John himself came to affix them to me. It meant the nose reins, for sure. But I knew that these wretched implements were for my own good and gave my driver the best control over my somewhat awkward body.
John was as kind as one could expect under the circumstances – I was never punished for being unable to accept the equipment into my nose without making a fuss! So John made it quick, and without ceremony, he put my head into a powerful arm lock while he relentlessly shoved the 3-inch ivory rods deep into my head. This was not my first time with these devises, and after a minute of coughing and involuntary snorting and head shaking (as if I could dislodge the rods!), I calmed down.
John blindfolded me, kissed my lovingly on my forehead and nose as my driver-groom jumped on the sulky and took up the reins. Diary, I am a very lucky lady to be cared for by such a loving Overseer, and I tried to concentrate on my sweet husbands unspoken desire that I win my first ever ribbon for him.
While my driver painfully tossed my head about, testing the efficacy of the nose rods, all I could think about in my ditsy head was how wonderful it would be that if I had to be claimed – sold off - that John might buy me and become my Master. I’m sure that my husband would continue to see me when he liked, and I think I had already proven to John that my obedience was heartfelt, if not always perfectly executed.
These men truly cared about me, and I had to remember that during the grueling trials ahead. Without my having been admitted to J-Ranch for attitude improvement, god knows where I’d be today – an aging feather-brained lady with no discernible talents!
I didn’t see the other ladies performances, but they got considerable applause from the audience. When it was my turn, under the expertise of my driver, and with considerable application of the riding crop to my backside, I only knocked over just a couple of the pylons. I think I was well received for so clumsy an old lady.
After removing the rods from my nose, John kissed me on the lips and slapped my face hard several times. (It was not in anger; I can assure you – I had long since come to accept that I am at my prettiest with a freshly slapped light-headed puss.)
Diary, John was kind enough to tell me what a good girl I had been, and had likely ‘caused more than a few appreciative erections’ in the audience by my routine. I was a lucky girl to have the love of these two men! Next, I was to be prepared for the free-style event. Wish me luck! Luv, Me.”
[editor: Poor Lisa didn’t realize that between the Compulsories and the Free-style in a Claiming Event, there was an intermission where potentially serious buyers could visit the mares up close and personal. To qualify as a serious buyer, in member had to post $ 200,000 in escrow, and pay an upfront $10,000 to participate in the intermission. (Some members paid the fee just to get a rare chance to enjoy these elite ladies, and half the proceeds were paid to the Masters.)]
Each mare was displayed in front of her stall with her wrists tied to a high beam, in their Part 1 “attire”. Lisa received her share of attention. There were two men who seemed like possible claimants, both were out-of-state. The first was a crusty old-timer who carefully checked Lisa teeth and felt her arm, thigh and calf muscles. He said he was looking for a “cheap” field mare and house worker, and figured that after the 3 year holding period, he could still sell Lisa off overseas at a profit. The second was a middle-age man who was looking for a house slave to give to his son. He was impressed with Lisa’s ability to take a heavy cropping, and wished for his son to learn how to severely discipline a mare. He also probed Lisa’s mouth with his fingers checking her gag reflex, and asked for her to be taken down and placed in the knee-chest position (which I did). He stroked her pussy and was impressed with its moistness. Then he spent considerable time with his finger in her rectum, and was similarly pleased by her youthful tone. I suspected that this gentleman had more in mind for poor Lisa than just a whipping mare for his son!
[So Part 1 was history. Part 2 was to come, and with it, and chance of a ribbon for Gary.]