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Pony Up

By: Nate_Walis



There were always little rituals to be observed and even the smallest of goals to be achieved in the space of a day. They were the routines and the mental talismans that kept Hannah's overactive brain in check and allowed her to manage the obsessive nature of her thoughts from one hour to the next without spinning out of control. Deprived of their comfort and familiar nature she was often scared to imagine what might happen to the complicated interior world that was her own mind.

The chance to leave the backstage area and make it to the tour bus before any of her band mates was just one of those rituals. One that was harder than most to manage and the importance of which would have been lost on the guys with whom she shared the cramped conditions while they were on the road together. 

She could have simply made her needs in this area clear to them and they would have probably understood and been accommodating towards her. But there was a deep streak of stubbornness that ran through Hannah's character, only made worse by her obsessive nature and the all too real lack of acceptance for women in the world of a touring band. This kept her from opening up and meant that her problems remained her own.

On another level, it also meant that she had earned a reputation in certain quarters as something of a demanding bitch.

The truth was that she simply felt the need to acclimatise herself to the space in which she would soon be forced to spend the best part of a day with three men before the offending parties arrived on the scene.

Hannah was as close to her band mates as it was possible for her to be on a platonic level and the band prided itself on the fact that they had managed to avoid any messy romances between the members. But no matter how much she loved the men she worked so closely with almost every day of the year, they were still men and there were just some things that one gender needed that were totally alien to the other.

Most of the time she would have been happy to hang around with them, play on the console, swap jokes and maybe even work on a song if the mood took them. It was just a fact of life that she needed no more than a few minutes to, she hated how pseudo-spiritual it sounded, centre herself and see to her more feminine needs. Once that was done she could cope with the testosterone addled minds of the guys and more often than not give back as good as she got.

But that was touring, a fine balance of grasping personal space for mind and body so that you could cope with the body odour, snoring and general mess that the other members of the band generated in order to keep working as a unit rather than descending into a fight over some stupid and pointless issue.

Tonight she had been lucky enough to be able to use one of the inevitable character flaws of the average heterosexual male against her band mates and escape the usual clamour for photos and autographs by the back entrance of the arena. The majority of the fans waiting for them had been female, and while her own admirers were by no means all male, this crowd had been more interested in the other three quarters of the band. No amount of modern male sensitivity and supposed respect for women was going to keep the guys from basking in the adoration of two dozen adoring fans.

Hannah welcomed the feeling of the air con as it hit her and then enveloped her totally with the door sliding closed behind her. She had been raised on the east coast and the ever present heat that some people in other states seemed to take for granted was hard for her to cope with. Coming back to the bus after hours spent in the relentless dry air was a little like coming home and always made her able to begin to unwind.

She savoured every second that she had the cool, shady interior of the bus to herself, thankful for the blacked out windows and the way the sounds outside were blunted and indistinct. As her mind truly started to come down, there was a moment of pause when she realised that someone must have been on the bus while they were still onstage. It was not an unusual thing to happen and she could not see that anything had been disturbed or taken, but still the interior seemed cleaner or less cluttered than she recalled.

It was, she concluded, most likely nothing.

Perhaps one of the crew had been through and tidied on a whim or cleared the space while on an errand for one of the guys.

The only reason she noticed was the damn tendency that she had for obsessing and scrutinizing the smallest detail. Anyone else, anyone normal, would have just walked into the bus and not seen that there was a difference in the way they had left it at all. 

Frustrated with her own inability to turn off her thoughts, Hannah slumped onto her bunk and sank her head into the pillow. 

She took a deep breath and tried to relax.

It was to no avail as she sat straight back up and stared in surprise at the bedclothes.

They were clean and fresh, as though they had just been laundered.

Now she was irate.

It was another odd little quirk, but she had made everyone who needed to know well aware of the fact that she was in charge of changing her own bedding. Some kids had grown up with security blankets, but Hannah had always been comforted by the familiar smell of her own sheets. It quite weird and more than a little filthy, she was well aware. Never the less she slept far better and woke far more refreshed when she was sleeping on bedclothes that had her own scent well and truly worked into them.

She pulled her satchel out of the locker beneath her bunk, meaning to write an entry in her journal in the hope of getting the emotions out of her system. But when she opened the flap, she found that there was nothing inside save for two or three reams of copier paper, still sealed and unopened. Her books and journal were nowhere to be seen, as if they had been replaced with something of the same size and weight in order to disguise the fact that the real contents had been removed.

Under the same circumstances, another person might have been disturbed by the realisation that their possessions had been tampered with. Hannah was different in that respect, hardened to more than a few years of oddball attention from fans who were more than capable of performing bizarre acts to show their devotion or stealing personal items as souvenirs. She was fairly sure that she could have coped with the bedclothes being taken, but her journal was a step too far.

She tossed the bag onto the floor and stormed the length of the bus, back to the door where she had climbed on board only minutes before. Not in the mood for delicacy, she hammered her foot into the bar that opened the door in a move that she hoped would facilitate her exit from the bus while at the same time bleeding off a small portion of her anger.

In the end it achieved neither as the bar refused to budge an inch and she succeeded only in jarring her ankle in the effort. Hannah tried again, this time pushing the bar by hand. But there was still no movement and the door remained firmly closed.

Before she could ponder the mystery of the uncooperative door any further, Hannah was forced to brace herself against the nearest wall as the bus lurched beneath her feet and the sound of the engine filled her ears. She had spent long enough cooped up in vehicles of its type to be perfectly aware of the sounds and sensations that meant the thing was starting up and preparing to get back on the road.

In that moment, none of it made sense.

Why would someone steal her journal, lock her on the tour bus and then drive the damn thing away while she was still stuck inside? If she was being kidnapped, her abductor had chosen the single most conspicuous vehicle possible to drive her away in. The bus was massive, cumbersome and had the band's livery painted on almost every surface in rather vibrant colours as well.

Hannah's overactive mind clambered over the situation until a thought occurred to her; the bus was the worst choice for a kidnapper, but then there was far more to be said for something that might at first seem to be the tour bus when in fact it was a different vehicle altogether.

It had been the realisation that the objects in the satchel had been almost a perfect match for what she expected to find inside in terms of weight and heft. What if the idea was to simply make the whole thing look like the real bus at first glance? Just enough to fool the eye for long enough so that a trap could be sprung?

She made her way carefully back along the corridor that ran the length of the interior of the bus, stopping to examine things as she passed that had seemed perfectly normal and innocent only minutes before. Guitar case opened to reveal nothing but blocks of heavy plastic moulded in the shape of the absent instruments. Bags that should have contained clothes and shoes were simply stuffed with bundles of fabric that mimicked the form and weight of the items that should have been within. Nothing that she could find inside the bus was as it should have been, noting was genuine and everything was a fake.

By now she was aware of an increase in speed as the bus seemed to have left the relatively narrow streets around the arena behind in favour of more open road. Hannah could only guess that the vehicle had reached the outskirts of the city and was now driving on the multi-lane highways that linked it to the other municipalities in the same state and beyond.

The one thing that she was determined not to do was give in to panic in the face of her being kidnapped. There was no way that she could break the windows of the bus with what she had to hand and she was not about to try to use the intercom to speak with whoever was up in the driver's seat. So she resolved that the only thing she could do for the moment was to keep herself as calm as possible and make her attempt to escape when the bus finally came to a stop and the kidnappers made their next move.

It was times like this that she really regretted the rule the band had stuck to for so long, the one that banned them all from taking mobiles anywhere near the stage. At the time it had been a stroke of genius intended to keep them focussed on the task at hand, but who could have known how it would come back to bite her in such a way?

"Sit down and relax."

The sound of a voice over the intercom took Hannah by surprise, which was only added to by the fact that it was clearly a string of words that had been edited together from a number of different sources. The pitch and volume jumped between each separate word and it was clear that the original source had been taken from a recording of someone singing rather than speaking.

"Believe me, you'll make it easier on yourself if you don't resist."

Hannah realised with a sense of disgust that she was listening to her own voice, chopped and sampled from songs that she had written and performed herself. Whoever was responsible for her abduction was using her own words and even her own voice to urge her to cooperate.

She found the nearest intercom panel and literally pounded on the button that would allow her to speak to the person on the other end. But all that she was rewarded with was the sound of a catch being released perhaps a foot below the intercom itself.

Before she could glance down and see what was responsible for the sound, there was a noise that could have been a sharp shot of air and no more than a fraction of a second later a cold sensation began to spread out from her stomach.

Hannah stepped back a pace and looked down at her abdomen to see a small object pinning her T-shirt to her belly. It was no more than half an inch in length and as she gingerly pulled on one end, a pointed tip emerged from where it had been buried in her flesh a moment earlier.

She had time only to regard the thing for a few seconds, coming to the conclusion that it looked just like a tiny dart even as her thoughts began to grow slow and clouded. The cold sensation had spread through most of her body by that time and as it reached her hands, she dropped the dart onto the floor.

There could not have been another ten seconds between the thing landing and her legs folding under her as she joined it upon the floor of the bus.

The bus pulled off the highway and into a deserted warren of streets that were populated with vacant lots and slowly decaying industrial buildings. There was no sign of a living person for blocks in any direction as it passed and it was alone on those empty streets as it had been on the highway before them.

There had been no reason for anyone to suspect or follow the tour bus, because despite the gaudy livery in which it was covered and the large number of fans that jostled to see the members of the band, there was still a seemingly identical vehicle parked outside the arena from which it had come. A clever trick of switching performed just at the correct moment had allowed this decoy to snare its target and then leave the scene of the crime with no witnesses and arousing no suspicions.

Still alone and unseen, the bus turned off the road and into a nondescript compound surrounded by a chain link fence and characterised by nothing beyond grey concrete in the middle of a landscape that was made of the same material. It came to a halt in front of the only building on the plot, a vast and impersonal block of brick that could have served any number of purposes; such was its anonymous shape and lack of external features. Only a vast sliding door that stood at the top of a wide ramp could be seen as a means of entrance and it was towards this that the bus drove once it was within the limits of the compound.

The door slid open with a speed and silence that was seemingly at odds with its outer appearance of rust and neglect and it was not long before the bus had disappeared inside. As soon as the vehicle was inside, the door began to sweep closed with the same speed, sealing the building and whatever lay inside from the sight of the outside world.

Unforgiving artificial lighting guttered into life, illuminating every corner of the chamber into which the bus had driven. There was no proper way in which the space could have been described as anything but a chamber; it was a vast expanse of grey that stood fully two stories in height and was empty save for its new occupant and a number of metal doors set into the walls at floor level. The only sound was that of the bus as it filled the space with noise that dwindled to nothing as it came to a halt and the engine was brought to a stop.

The bus stood still and silent for a number of minutes until the sound of the nearest door sliding open broke the silence. The way in which the door slid to one side and revealed only a small space beyond instantly gave away the fact that it was the entrance to a lift, rather than simply a portal into another room on the same level. The interior of the lift car was barely large enough to accommodate the two men and the medical gurney that they wheeled out into the chamber; but if they had been cramped during the course of their ride the men made no show of discomfort.

In reality they made no show of emotion whatsoever as their faces were hidden behind breathing apparatus that formed part of the white jumpsuits that each of them wore. The suits covered them from head to toe and made the men appear to be prepped for handling the most hazardous materials imaginable. But there was no sign of danger to them as they made their way quickly to the closest door of the tour bus, making no sign of reaction as the door that had refused to open for Hannah, hissed quietly and swung open at their approach.

One man boarded the bus as soon as he was able and made his way to where Hannah's unconscious form lay, blocking the corridor. As he began to make what looked like a rudimentary examination of her condition, the second man climbed aboard and watched his progress from a distance of a few feet. When the first man looked back over his shoulder and nodded to the second, he closed the space between them and helped as his colleague began to lift the girl gently off the floor.

The first man stepped over Hannah's body and grasped her beneath the arms while the second seized her around the knees. Together they carried her carefully off the bus and laid her on the gurney, taking care to strap her down at the hands, ankles and across the midriff. It was impossible to tell if this was done to keep her from falling off the thing or in order to prevent her struggling should she regain consciousness. Possibly there was a measure of both concerns, but in all likelihood it seemed that the true reason was the latter rather than the former.

With their charge strapped to the gurney, the men retraced their steps to the lift.

Some form of mechanical courtesy that was more often than not absent from such contraptions elsewhere in the world had meant that the door remained open, as if awaiting their return.

They wheeled the gurney inside and flattened themselves against the walls as the doors slid shut once more and the lift began to descend silently into whatever basement levels lay below.

The lift doors opened to allow the gurney to be wheeled out into a corridor so utilitarian and devoid of features that it might have been the interior of a fallout bunker. The same strip lighting as served on the floors above lit the corridor, but down here it did not reach every corner and strange shadows lurked on the edges of vision. There were no marks or signage to differentiate right from left as they emerged from the lift, nevertheless the men took no time to pause as they turned to the left and made their way off down the corridor.

They frequently passed heavy metal doors on either side of the corridor and from behind them were audible only a faint hint of what was going on behind them. The corridor itself was silent apart from the sound of the gurney and the feet of the men as they ignored every passing portal and hurried onwards, making one turn after another seemingly from memory alone.

All at once they stopped, standing before a door no different to the eye than any other.

This one they turned the gurney towards and entered as one opened the door and the other wheeled their charge inside.

With the door closed behind them, the men flipped switches to light the interior of the room.

They were standing in a space that had been fitted with what could have been mistaken at first sight for an operating theatre. There was a metal table in the rough centre of the room and the walls were lined with what could have been diagnostic instruments. But closer examination revealed the lack of any actual medical supplies, no drips, scalpels or clamps could be seen. In addition the devices that could be noted would have been more in keeping with household maintenance, including what looked like adhesive guns, staplers and sheets of plastic or tarpaulin.

The room now fully lit, the men unstrapped Hannah from the gurney and placed her on the table. This done, one of them made a final appraisal of her while the other plucked a clipboard from a nearby work surface and proceeded to scribble down some notes on the paper it held.

Before he was finished making his notes, the door to the room opened and they were joined by four men in theatre robes that seemed to incorporate many of the features of the first men's hazmat suits. The newcomer closest to the man who had been writing on the clipboard plucked it from his hand and made a motion towards the door without a second glance at him.

Without a word or gesture of objection, the first man made his way to the door where he was joined a moment later by the second. Both exited the room, closing the door behind them and leaving Hannah with the new arrivals.

Almost the moment that the original men left the room, those in theatre robes who had been doing little more than standing still all the while, suddenly seemed to come to life as they moved off to different corners of the room and began to prepare various items the purpose of which was truly baffling to the casual observer.


Pony Up (An Anime Girl Story)



Theta came into the room with her collar already on and her harness in her arms. Otherwise she was stripped naked - her pale skin glowing in the candlelight from sconces set around the room. She found Tom, standing by a leather bench with arm extensions and kneeling rests, and stood at attention.

Quietly he nodded, smiling softly as he took Theta's smooth leather harness from her. She had done an excellent job rubbing it down with saddle soap and keeping it supple and soft. "For the duration of this scene, you are a pony girl. You may neigh for no, or stomp your hooves for yes. Do you understand?"

Theta looked at him, the soft hair on his bare chest and muscular lines of his shoulders and biceps making her even more wet, and then stomped her right foot twice on the floor for affirmative.

Tom smiled and gestured toward the padded leather bench. "Please pony up," he said enjoying his terrible pun.

Doing her best imitation of a knicker, Theta carefully walked up to the kneeling end of the bench. She could see how it looked almost like a picnic table from this end, the padded center plank flanked on either side lengthwise by equally padded planks about a foot lower. She got up carefully, minding her balance as she knelt on the leather, and then shuffled forward until she felt Tom's hand on her shoulder.

He guided her head down, lowering Theta so her torso and pelvis were against the center plank, and then adjusting her slightly so she was lined up. The center piece had a slightly oval curve, so her thighs were held a little bit less than shoulder width apart as Theta straddled it on her knees. Tom was comfortable with the fit, so he took her elbows one by one and guided them into the padded channels that led to the cuffs for her wrists.

The bench was truly a work of beauty. The cuffs moved easily, sliding without a snag to where Tom needed them, and pushing in the steel lever under the arm channel locked them into place. The cuffs themselves were leather circlets - inside and out - with an air bladder between them. Tom simply pumped a bulb on either side until he felt confident that Theta was sufficiently restrained. No need to worry about cuffs that were too small or that wrapped around themselves and thus didn't hold well. And to release them he just had to release the air bladder valve. Well thought out engineering like that was rare in dungeon spaces.

Tom had to stop admiring the ease of securing Theta and focus on the scene and her care. Now that she was cuffed against the unheated leather, he knew her body would cool down fast. Luckily he had a solution. Tom took out a large heating pad - the sort usually used for people with back pain - and spread it out from the top of Theta's buttocks all the way to her shoulders. He referred to it as a 'saddle blanket' while he spread it out, talking to Theta about his preparations for his lovely pony. Then he took her harness and fit it in place.

Theta had certain modifications already, and the harness took advantage of those. Tom had crafted it himself, right down to the custom metal stamp he used to put his mark in the leather, and it was one of three he used with Theta. This one fit over her shoulders, with a strap that went down and around the arm to prevent it from riding up to her neck. The front part was held in place by black elastic that came under Theta's breast from the left to the right, and then buckled into place. Then a broad leather waist belt went just above her hips, cradling her smooth abdomen and cinching in the back.

With this harness Tom had designed two special elements. One was an adjoining thigh strap that he didn't intend to use tonight. But the other would be an intrinsic part of the scene.

He tested the buckles and fit of the harness and made sure the heating pad was on medium. Theta was wiggling a bit to get adjusted. When Tom felt confident that she was ready, he cleared his throat and said, "I have a surprise for you tonight." He let the words sink in, and then Theta tapped her foot in his direction. The equivalent of "Yes, Master."

"Tonight we'll begin your breeding training."

The smile in Tom's voice was lost on Theta as her mind reeled in a mini terror. She'd wondered why Tom was taking them to a dungeon. She'd wondered why he had been measuring her progress. She'd wondered why so many things... and now she was here. She almost broke character and cried out, but then she remembered and stayed mute as she struggled in her bonds and harness.

Tom's hand was gentle on her shoulder as he caressed her. "You're a very silly pony, aren't you?" he asked in a soothing voice. "Look around you - there is no straw on the floor, there were no stables nearby, you don't smell a live stud nor could one fit down the hallway, right?" Theta still struggled but her mind was catching up. "I wanted a special setting for you to lose your anal virginity to a wonderful horse cock toy. Something we've been talking about and you've been imagining for so long. That's all."

In those dulcet tones, Tom could have charmed a rattlesnake. Theta found herself relaxing despite her heart racing, and she slowly understood. She wanted to ask a question, wanted to know something more, but she didn't want to speak. She tried raising her hand, then both hands, and shook them around when Theta realized that the cuffs only let her point at things.

"Yes, Theta," Tom said quietly. "Tell me what you want."

There was a logjam in her brain so the topmost exploded from her mouth before Theta had really thought it out. "Does it cum?" she asked and then bit her tongue. That was not what she meant to ask, though it did seem important.

"I'm assured the leather is easy to wipe down and the floor is bare to make it easier to move things around and clean up any fluids," Tom replied with a grin. "So, yes. Tonight you will get as close to the real thing as I can arrange right now including nice hot ejaculate filling you."

Theta was going to ask more, but, realizing her big mouth could get her in trouble, she just moved her feet to acknowledge what Tom told her. The other questions crowding her head would soon be answered anyway.

Tom continued to stroke Theta's arm and shoulder, reflecting on anything else he thought that she needed to know. He decided there were only two things that were important. "If you get in trouble, if this is too much, I want you to shout out 'Big Dipper.' Pony training is hard and your first time will feel very intense. We can try as many times as you like and even come back another time until you feel comfortable." He patted Theta's arm and waited for her feet to move. Once they did, he added, "And since I need you to practice staying very still I'll be anchoring your labia rings to the bench."

She wanted to shake her head and neigh at that, but Theta knew it was what her piercings were for. She had pleaded and begged for all three pair of piercings that went through both her outer and inner labia on each side. And when it was done, Theta suffered the excruciating pain while they healed and were gauged up so she could wear quarter inch thick steel, a barbell with a horseshoe hanging from it, between her thighs and pulling down on her cunt opening all day long.

Her master and owner's only resistance was the long healing time and the fact that her cunt would be unavailable for his use and her toy training. So she understood what he intended. Theta had agreed to it explicitly and in writing because Tom wanted to make sure she understood the situation clearly.

Quietly she prepared herself for something that she'd been training for with plugs and ever thickening dildos. Tom's voice came floating to Theta while she willed her body to relax, slowed her pulse rate, and thought back to all the times she had practiced her ritual by herself. The candlelight and warmth of her familiar saddle blanket helped. Even when Tom returned with clanking chains, Theta could feel herself sinking into her normal training routine.

The first carabineer always surprised her, and Theta twitched involuntarily. Tom was used to that and kept a steady hand on her buttocks as he clipped on all six 'bineers. One carabineer per labia piercings stirrup - three to a side - the lightweight aluminum barely moving the heavy steel that continuously tugged Theta's labia outward from her pelvis. Then he used lightweight parachute cord to run the left carabineers out to the left side of the bench, taking advantage of an eye hook on the inside edge of the kneeling plank, and tied things in place. Then he did the same with the right side, and using a slipknot Tom slowly adjusted the ropes so Theta's labia were stretched wide apart and down.

Two short segments of parachute cord were all he needed to fix the slipknots in place, and now Theta's cunt was firmly held in place. He watched Theta test her range of motion, moving a little forward and to either side. She could feel what Tom could see: her cunt was spread open, flanked by long labia, the skin of her pelvis pulled taut to the sides of her piercings, each piercing sporting a steel horseshoe big enough to be mistaken with a heavy duty D ring from a hardware store. Placed on display like that, it was obvious that Tom's intent was to create a completely gaping cunt as a persistent reminder to Theta about her purpose as his fuck toy and slut.

But their mutual design didn't stop there. With her labia pulled down and out, Theta's anus was completely exposed. Theta's buttocks were once naturally rounded as they met the backs of her thighs. On the bench the cleft between her buttocks broadened to follow her spread thighs, and the inner curve of each cheek flowed outward leaving her puckered asshole exposed. The tight parachute cord pulling her labia piercings down and out distorted her ass as well. Her perineum - that narrow band of skin between her cunt and ass - was stretched to the sides and pulled toward the leather bench. That left her asshole open, curved at the top but pulled flat across the bottom, resembling an arched doorway to a dark tunnel.

Tom had led her down this path, sometimes with her eagerness pulling them forward, and other times with his repetitive training forcing her through the motions. When she had accepted his mark, one he refreshed every day they were together by inking it onto her pale skin, Theta gave him her cunt and ass to use as he wanted. And what Tom wanted was her ass prepared and trained for breeding to well hung stallions. Theta moaned each time he orgasmed in her cunt without protection, knowing that she had been told she would never get pregnant but also knowing that if it happened then Tom would keep her bred yearly to produce foals. And with her enormous cunt used to delivering babies, her breasts kept swollen and milked, Theta would truly be his brood mare. It was a tortured fantasy that made her increasingly well used cunt wetten every time Theta thought about it.

His hand slipped off Theta's ass and he fetched the special component for Theta's harness. It was a simple sling, fashioned a bit more elegantly, that clipped on to the back of her waistband at two points and then had side runners Tom adjusted for length and slipped to the bench. He fixed it in place with a few tugs and then fitted a curved half pipe with a rubber flange on the end into the sling's cradle. The heavy PVC pipe was necessary because the horse dildo was long and Tom didn't want it falling to the sides. He'd also need the additional control once the embedded hose was turned on. This would serve as a good equipment test to see if the sling would work with the half pipe or if he needed something anchored to Theta's legs.

Making sure the rubber flange sat just below Theta's stretched perineum, Tom spoke slowly and calmly for his pony girl's benefit. "When we start tonight, I'm going to work the horse cock head into your ass slowly and then pause. I'm doing this because it is your first time, and I want to make sure you can enjoy it and adjust at your own pace. After this first time we will train for a real stud - just like we've done with your plugs. And a real stud, once he finds his mark, steps forward and drives his cock as far as he can without hesitating. Do you understand, Theta?"

She moved her feet cautiously. Theta wasn't sure if Tom should do anything different from her usual training, but he always had his reasons.

"Ok. Now I want to hear you reciting your responsibilities while I prepare your ass and bring out your first artificial horse cock. You can speak it plainly like you've been trained."

He didn't wait for the litany to begin. Tom had drilled Theta for long enough that they both knew the words by heart with minor acceptable variations depending on how tired they were. Instead he stepped over and pumped the pressurized can for the ejaculate, making sure the temperature was warm to the touch but not hot on the back of his hand, and then wet wiped his hands before going to his equipment duffel and slowly removing the enormous equine cock facsimile.

Her murmuring chant set a familiar rhythm while Tom unwrapped several towels and set the eighteen inch long equine cock on them. He had modified the sex toy for his purposes, stiffening the dildo by inserting a threaded rigid tube down the center of the floppy silicon. It had taken two days of slow progress to make sure the tube went in perfectly straight and didn't deform the horse cock. Tom had used a hollow tube for better control screwing it in, but then he realized he had the perfect conduit for a rubber hose. There had been a flurry of activity over the last few weeks while Tom tested different ways to store thick cum like lubricants and keep them warm, and then hook them up via hose to the equine dildo and provide enough force to actually blast the fake ejaculate out rather than dribble it from the tip.

But now it was done. Tom wiped down the head and shaft with wet wipes and then moved everything systematically closer to the bench. He had to power down the heater, but from experience the faux cum wouldn't cool for a good twenty minutes. Then Tom put on his own custom strap-on harness, with straps and buckles to hold the last six inches of the equine cock's shaft in place. It took him another few minutes to mount the dildo, careful of the rubber tubing that ran to the pressurized reservoir, and finally he had everything in place.

Standing behind Theta with an eighteen inch long horse cock protruding from his pelvis, Tom softly called out to her in the rhythm of her litany.

"You are my what?" he asked softly.

She replied "I am your fuck toy."

"Tell me more," he continued.

"I am your fuck slut." The confidence in her rightness carried in her voice.

"And you are here because?"

"I am your brood mare." There was a slight pause, a hesitation that came from realizing she had been saying this one sentence for quite some time without realizing what it really meant.

"You are my brood mare," Tom said firmly while emphasizing the word 'are.' "Tell me the rest."

"I am your fisting slut. I am your bitch cunt. I am your gaping ass. I am your wet mouth. I am your eager property." There was a slow pause as the last words came from her mouth.

Tom understood at once and smiled. "You have more that you have added, Theta?" he asked with tones of encouragement. "Tell them to me." Her rutual had expanded as Theta explored her fantasies. The things she said to herself while masturbating for him almost made Tom's heart beat as fast as hers.

Theta let her cheek rest on the soft leather. It was warm from her flushed skin, and she breathed in the scent of the leather and wood before speaking. "I am your plugged whore. I am your pierced slave. I am your stretched bitch. I am your profane temple..." Her voice wandered off as she waited for her master to approve.

"And what will we do at the altar of my temple?" Tom asked once it was clear Theta had finished.

Remembering her training, Theta moved into the receiving position. Her pelvis tipped a bit to better express her cunt and ass, her backbone straight and forehead down to minimize strain to her neck. Her thighs apart and relaxed, and her hands and arms in place. Then she responded, "You will fuck my ass with your big horse cock dildo to begin my brood mare training. And sir," she added cautiously.

"Yes, Theta, my wonderful stretched bitch," he replied intentionally trying out one of her new titles.

"Don't pause. This pony acknowledges that when she is bred to a real horse, the stud will fuck her hard and deep immediately. This pony is a work horse and does not expect delicate treatment. She should be bred intentionally and deliberately to prepare her for the real thing."

"And then?"

Theta swallowed. She hadn't expected that question, and she cursed herself for saying so much. Her master was smart with words and often reminded her of that when she said too much. "And then I will be bred."

"I know that scares you a little, Theta," Tom said gently as he stepped behind her spread buttocks. "So I promise you this: I won't require you to be bred to a real stud until you voluntarily push a big horse cock toy completely into your ass. I have one toy in mind, it's eight inches long with a four inch wide head, and a three inch wide shaft that increases a little bit toward the base."

"So big," Theta said in a shaky scared voice. "So very very big."

"This one is only three inches across the head and two and a half inches along the shaft. Your biggest plug is just over three inches wide at the base, isn't it? This should go in easily once it's started." Tom's reassurance left out the eighteen inch length and the stiffness of the reinforced shaft.

Theta leaned into the leather while her belly fluttered in anticipation. "I am your fuck slut. I fuck whatever my Master asks of me." She was subdued and the fear lingering in her voice was balanced with acceptance of her role and how that turned her on. "My ass has been properly lubed all day, Sir. Please breed my ass with your stallion cock. I promise to work on fucking whatever you want me to so I can be a good brood mare." She was quiet after sharing and did her best to hold herself in position despite the nervousness that made her legs twitch.

Stepping forward with the equine dildo settling into the PVC cradle, Tom rested the broad flat cock head against Theta's stretched sphincter. He had added a little lube to the head, and took a moment to add some more to the shaft. Horse cocks are different than human cocks - the head is more flat with a wide opening in the center, like the firing end of a canon, and then there is a natural reverse taper behind it that flows into a slightly narrower shaft. He wedged that untapered three inch wide cock head against Theta's ass now that he felt the dildo was sufficiently lubed and lightly swatted her butt.

"Yes, Sir," she said instantly. Theta understood what her Master wanted. Her anxiety vanished with the sense of purpose her master gave her. She pushed back onto the cock head with her bottom, and squeezed out with her ass muscles like she was using the bathroom. It was the last part of her receiving position.

"You are going to be a wonderful brood mare, Theta. Tell me how it feels. I want to hear all about your first time being practice bred." He stepped forward again, watching the long cock shaft bow a bit from the pressure, and then began rocking the silicon head against Theta's anus. "Looks like we will also need to spend more time stretching your gaping ass. In the future, I want something this small to go right in."

Theta moaned from both the feeling of the broad head pushing on her opening and the thought of force fucking her ass to make it more gaping open for him. "It's very big, Sir." She sounded soft and had to catch her breath before saying more. "I can feel it covering my whole opening... and touching the insides of by butt... and all the way to my tailbone."




Pony Up (An Anime Girl Story)



Tom took the information and stood on his toes while he adjusted the harness. The long dildo was aimed up too high and the angle of approach was a problem. He kept the pressure on and used his hand to guide the shaft downward once Tom felt he had everything aligned. 

"Oh yes... yes, Sir... that's better now..." Theta sighed as she felt her ass starting to cave inward. "I think it's in the right spot... still so big... but you can drive it in... push it into my stretched ass and breed me..." She felt wetness on her inner thighs and moaned. "Oh... oh, Master... my bitch cunt is dripping, Sir... it's jealous... my wrecked cunt wants its own horse cock... but it can't have one... you breed my cunt, Master... you cum in my bitch cunt and then fist my slutty openings... you want my gaping ass for breeding to horses... my ass filled with horse cum and then plugged for hours... I'm already your brood mare... all those times filling my ass with hot water and pretending I was a pony girl... riding bigger and bigger plugs... You're right, Sir. I need a bigger plug... my ass needs to be wrecked so you can fuck me with anything you want... I'm your fuck toy... your fisting slut... and I need to work more to have a gaping ass to serve you... your plugged whore..."

Tom could see the pliable head of the dildo flexing as the outer sides of it distorted to become more streamlined. He was using measured pressure so he didn't damage the internal tubing. Quietly he asked, "Are you ready?"

Theta took a breath and replied, "Yes, Sir."

With no further hesitation, Tom stepped forward and punched the horse head into Theta's rectum. The silicon twisted and crushed for a moment, penetrated her sphincter, and then he slowly stepped forward to drive a good six inches of cock shaft in behind it.

Her scream echoed in the dungeon room, and then she sobbed and dry heaved as her belly did flipflops. Tom kept fucking Theta though. He placed a consoling hand on her hip to make it clear that he was with her even as he did what needed to be done. When he hit the seven inch mark - a thin white line marked with seven on the dildo's shaft, Tom backed out a bit. Then he pushed the horse cock in again, using slow deliberate strokes one after another to fuck Theta's ass.

It took Theta some time to get past the initial shock. The head had been so big and it had torn her ass open to get in. But now there were just the familiar aches and pains and burning Theta associated with her big plugs. She was proud that she got her breathing under control and did as she had been trained. "It tore my ass, and there is some burning, Sir." Tom had repeatedly coached Theta on telling him about any medical or pain issues.

Tom added some lube when he backed out the shaft and watched it coat Theta's sphincter as he pushed back in. "It should get a little better. You're doing very well. I can fuck a full seven to eight inches of horse cock into your slutty ass. You're going to make a lovely brood mare."

With pride in her voice, Theta sang out, "I am your brood mare." She paused, letting her thoughts get organized before she continued, then she added, "You're breeding me right now. With a big horse cock. Mmmhmmm... It feels good and deep, too."

He was glad they were past the breaking in part. "Theta, pony girl, I need you to practice your prayers so we can work you up to orgasming with your big horse stud in your ass. He won't cum until you do."

"Oh, Sir. He can cum! I want that so much..." Theta's voice trailed off while she refocused. The she started with her usual litany, but added the new additions for her Master to hear again. "I am your fuck toy, Sir. I am your fuck slut. I am your brood mare. I am your fisting slut. I am your bitch cunt. I am your gaping ass. I am your wet mouth. I am your eager property. I am your plugged whore. I am your pierced slave. I am your stretched bitch. I am your profane temple."" She shuddered and paused, feeling the effect of saying words like 'bitch,' 'slut,' 'cunt,' 'slave,' and 'ass.' There was a steady trickle of cunt juices running down her leg again, and Theta could feel how gaping open her cunt was as the large equine dildo slowly pumped in and out of her ass.

With her opening litany complete, Theta worked on her prayers. This was a new addition to their training regimen, so it was more ad hoc and less rigidly defined. "Please, Master, make me your fuck toy. Show me what to fuck, and force it into my cunt or my ass as it pleases you. Please, Master, make me your brood mare... no wait... Please, Master, make me your fuck slut... your easy slut. Tell me what to fuck and when. Keep me fucked as often as possible with bigger and bigger things so I'm open all the time. Please, Master, make me your brood mare. Oh, Sir, I understand now... Please train my cunt to receive your cum and my ass to be bred to whatever cock you demand. I'm so sorry that I'm just a pony girl in training, Sir. I know you deserve someone who can handle a horse cock, a full sized real horse cock, and I promise to do whatever I can. I'll be a better pony girl - a better fuck slut. Just let me know where I can get horse cock toys, and I'll fuck them all the time." She paused while she thought about that, her breasts grinding into the soft padded leather, and her body shivered with pleasure.

Tom was always pleasantly surprised by the tangents and distractions Theta could come up with. Bringing her back to what mattered, he asked, "Are you prepared for your ass to be pounded by this horse cock, my lovely brood mare?"

Her whole body nodded yes, so Tom pulled all the way back, stepping away and let the horse cock come out. "We'll try this again. What do you say?"

"Thank you, Sir. Thank you for horse fucking my ass. Please forgive my ass for being so tight and help me make it, ummm, better gaping for horse cocks."

"That was very good, Theta." He added some lube to the long dildo and then ordered her, "Tell me about things that make you cum, Theta."

With the big cock head flat against her bruised sphincter, Theta responded quickly. She knew Tom's intentions. He would honestly force fuck her ass now. Theta had let him down by not being stretched enough, even after he emphasized all week that she needed to spend extra time on her anal plugs, and now she deserved however it felt. "Fuck my ass, Sir," she said. "Fuck my ass like a real stud... I should have been more prepared... I should have trained harder... If you need to then get my bit out and I will wear it. Or my ball gag if you have it. Or just stuff my panties in my mouth. I know you don't like it when I scream or cry. Please just fuck my ass... as hard as you can... and don't let me stop you. I need to be bred, over and over again, so I can learn how to serve you."

Tom took advantage of Theta's pause for breath to ask her, "And if I have a dog waiting for you?"

She shuddered. "If my cunt is for you... and my ass is for horses... a dog... oh no, sir... I don't know if I could... in my mouth..."

"You will lay underneath him and let him fuck your mouth and throat... his soft fur and testicles on your cheek until he begins to knot... and then you will swallow every bit of his jism... do you understand?"

Moaning she replied, "Yes, Sir... any animal you want, Sir. However you want, Sir... A brood mare is bred however her owner pleases. If you want then please keep the dog all weekend so I get lots of practice. We can get a dog collar and leash for me, and you can take me on walks..."

"Or I could horse fuck you and train your ass to be a gaping hole for stallions... which do you prefer?"

Understanding it was a trick question to test her pride, Theta responded the way she knew that she should. "I am your property. I will fuck whatever, however, and whenever you tell me. If we can find a stray on the way home tonight then pull over and I will fuck him right then. If you want to go to the stables after this then I will clean a stud with my mouth and use my hands to get him aroused, and then you can have me tied to bales of hay so I'm the right height for his big cock to fuck me as deep as I can take."

Tom smiled. Theta had come a long way to get to this point. "I'm going to horse fuck your ass now, and you are going to tell me the things that make you cum until you orgasm. Start with 'fucking whatever my Master tells me.'" Then he stepped forward and drove the slick head of the dildo into Theta's ass, sinking it as deep as he had gotten to before, and pulled it out until only the bulging head was left inside her ass.

As he expected, Theta's body was more relaxed and less shocked this time. The desensitizing lube had fully soaked into her sphincter and rectum, and he could freely fuck her ass like it was a second cunt. With each stroke he encouraged her on, his words subdued but present as Theta started out.

"I cum when my ass is being fucked by a big horse cock..." she said slowly. Then she found her natural rhythm and adjusted to the pistoning strokes into her bottom, and continued with occasional breaks for deep breaths. "I cum when my Master fucks my slut cunt, feeling my big piercings and stretched out hole against him while his big cock is fucking my cunt walls. I cum when I feel his hand, wrapped around his big dick, begins to fist my cunt so easily... my stretched out whore cunt... wrecked and ruined... pulled so open... his big cock fucking me any time he wants... ordering me to plug my ass so I can feel him and the plug both fucking me... My ass stretching and stretching... bigger and bigger plugs that I must wear whenever I leave the house... my slave anklet and my plugged whore ass reminding me he owns me completely... I can feel the horse cock folding and filling my ass... fucking me so I can be ready for the real thing some day... oh... only eight inches long... if I took that whole thing then I'd have to fuck horses... My brood mare cunt would already have to... should already be bred... because I fuck things nine or ten inches deep during my training time..."

Tom listened to the babbling sound of her voice as he drove nine inches of the horse cock in and out of her ass. He could feel the shaft bending, pushed harder, and was rewarded as he hit the ten inch mark on the shaft. "Good, pony girl," he said softly. "Ten inches of this small horse cock. Can you cum with ten inches of horse cock in your ass?"

The fervor of her voice increased. "Yes, Master. Push your horse cock up my ass and then pound it into me. Can you fuck my slut cunt at the same time? Please... I'm so wet and open, stretched so much..." Then she felt the strange sensation of the inner pipe slightly buckling and the silicon cock twitched as it sprang back into shape. "Oh yes. Master. I can feel the stud getting close to coming. He's twisting and twitching in my ass. Please. I'm a good pony girl. I'm fucking my first horse cock. Just like... a good pony girl." 

"You have to cum for him to cum, Theta," Tom reminded her gently. He had both his hands on her buttocks now to keep her from moving too much and pulling her piercings out.

Her voice flowed in sudden rushes and eddies while the endorphins starting to take over and her ass became more and more accustomed to the long thick horse dick. Her brain was prone to take sudden leaps at times like this, and Theta would soon be so over sensitized that she wouldn't be able to stand being touched. "I'll practice when I get home... just like you want... I'll put in my biggest plug and clip on the heaviest weights I have... and then I'll dog sit... spending all night practicing licking and sucking and then... then I'll use my shower nozzle and fill my ass with horse cum... and plug it in... just like a good brood mare... and you can fuck me like that... my ass plugged and full of water... just like a dog on my hands and knees... you can put my sandwiches in a bowl and lead me around on a leash... I'll be your sex puppy..." Her voice trailed off into mumbles for a moment and then Theta checked in with Tom.

"How much is my ass taking? Is it enough?" She sounded worried. Frightened that she might not be doing well enough for her master.

His voice shared his approval while he gave Theta facts. "Just under ten inches, any more and you might hurt his cock."

"Because I'm too tight... we have to stretch me more, Master. You have to gag me and force your hands into my ass and pull me apart and-"

Tom could hear the strain of insecurity in her voice - tipping Theta away from her pleasure and into desperation. "Hush, Theta. Ten inches is very good. A real horse cock could go deeper but this one has a delicate core. Do I need to tell you a story to help you cum?" He wanted to ease her mind and let her enjoy this as much as possible.

She mulled that over. "Please, sir." Theta spoke in a subdued voice. She didn't know why she wasn't orgasming. Perhaps it was being in the strange room.

"When we get home this week, I will leave you with two new plugs. I want you to put away your old plugs, in the box you keep in your closet, and take out the new ones. I want one by your computer desk and one by your bed. That way you don't forget them." He was surprised at how well the lube was lasting but Tom added some more just in case. "You need to stretch your ass enough that this cock and any three inch wide cylinder can go in without resistance. Your gaping ass needs to be kept stretched for eight hours a day. You can decide to do that in small segments, or in two long four hour periods. Until you have succeeded in stretching your ass enough, you can only have my cock in your cunt when you are wearing one of your two new plugs."

He paused to check on Theta's ass and the equine dildo. Tom was encouraged by the way Theta was intentionally pushing back on to dildo. She responded as he expected, her arousal growing when he told her what sexually explicit orders he had for her. "At the same time I have one replica canine dildo. You will practice sucking it and deep throating it - to show me whenever I ask. No real dogs. But I want you familiar with and able to handle your responsibilities as a brood mare in case I ask it of you."

"What about your big cock?" Theta asked.

"Do you want me to continue to breed your cunt?"

"Yes... yes, sir. You should keep trying. I'm so open now."

"Then your slut cunt will be for my cock, my fists, and very big toys that stretch it even further. I want to see it completely wrecked, permanently open, with your long dangling labia hanging to either side of an open gash."

"A fuck toy doesn't have a cunt that closes, sir." Theta affirmed. Then in a disappointed tone she added, "I'm sorry, master, but I'm not sure I can orgasm. I'm not comfortable in strange places."

He had wondered what triggered Theta's anxiety. Now he knew. "Ahhh... well then..." and Tom pressed down on the toggle switch he had in his hand.

Theta let out a long low moan that became a steady wail as her bowels were suddenly flooded with lukewarm faux cum. Unlike the enema nozzle, the horse cock was buried deep in her rectum with the head pushing up against the entrance to her colon. The pressure of the cum was enough to start pouring into her guts, causing air bubbles and other discomforts she only felt with the deepest colonic rinses. "Oh god..." she managed as she gasped for breath. Then she was gone again as Tom felt the second reservoir start to empty into her ass.

When he backed out the big dildo, thick white lube came out with it in splashes. Theta's ass was still convulsing, but he had planned for this. "I can't let expensive horse cum go to waste," he chided. And then he carefully picked up a three and a half inch wide plug and forced it into Theta's ass while awkwardly managing the eighteen inch cock protruding from his abdomen.

"It was... was it really... oh, sir..."

Tom removed the equine dildo from his harness and set it on the towel. Then he got back up and moved to Theta's side. "Now that you have a plug in, I can do this properly." He removed his harness, and removed the half pipe guide from Theta's harness extension. Pushing his leather trousers down, Tom freed his cock and thrust it into Theta with one driving push that ground into her labia piercings while pulling against the slipknots holding them stretched to the bench. His pelvis smacked into the thick plug in her ass.

It only took Tom half a dozen strokes to feel Theta's pussy trembling and see her body shaking. "Are you going to cum now, my breeding bitch in heat?" She shuddered so much that Tom could feel Theta's entire torso quivering on his cock. The big plug pushed down and pinned him forward into the front wall of her well used cunt, so Tom lifted himself up a bit higher and aimed his cock head down into her g-spot.

Upon contact Theta exploded with an inarticulate outburst as words jumbled together in her mouth and forebrain. Tom orgasmed as well, his ejaculate going deep into Theta's cunt as he had promised and then he backed out. His belly and pelvis were coated in faux cum, and he had to wipe things up before pulling up his leather trousers. Then he refocused on aftercare, letting Theta rest before untying her labia piercings and easing her out of the harness and off the bench, so he could get her mobile and they could go home.

All while his brood mare fuck slut still had a three and a half inch wide plug in her ass and her rectum and intestines were still flooded with almost a gallon of slick white lube that Theta believed was horse cum.



Pony Up



The man who held the clipboard walked over to the table and spent a few moments studying the contents of the notes and the girl lay out upon it. He repeated some of the checks that had already been completed such as taking her pulse and studying the reaction of her pupils to a small torch produced from his robes.

His examination was soon over and he returned the clipboard to its place before carrying a small metal tray back to the table. On the tray were an unlabelled vial and a syringe, filled and ready for use. The man located a vein on Hannah's left arm and sank the needle into her skin. He had worked out the dosage based on the time elapsed since the dart had penetrated her skin and taking into account the size and age of the subject, the injection would ensure she was out for longer than was strictly necessary.

As with any drug, a larger dose was more risky than a smaller one, but there was no room for error and no one in the room wanted the subject to wake up in the middle of the process they were about to perform.

The men behind the masks may have been anonymous and devoid of all identity, they may have been total strangers to Hannah even if she had been conscious and given the chance to see their faces. But the same could not be said for the girl on the table in relation to the men in the masks. They knew every inch of her body and were familiar with her physical form to a degree that was simply not possible without intense study over a prolonged period and with a definite purpose. They knew Hannah's petite frame from top to bottom, were familiar with her feminine and yet slight body in every way possible.

The man who had administered the drug was joined by one of his colleagues who carried a roll of cutting tools and wheeled a sturdy bin on castors behind him. At a nod from the first man that seemed to be a signal to proceed, he busied himself with the task of removing her clothes.

Hannah had been offstage for no more than a few minutes when she had reached the tour bus and she was still wearing the clothes that she had performed in that night as a result. She had never been one to choose elaborate costumes for the bands gigs and she was convinced that she did not suit overtly feminine garments. The fitted red T-shirt that she wore above denim shorts was testament to that conviction, and while she chose to cover her legs with tights that were divided between yellow on her left and red on her right, a pair of canvas trainers completed the outfit. In combination with her choppy hair, dyed a similarly vibrant orange, Hannah presented the image of a woman who was more pixy then siren.

The laces of her trainers were simply sliced through with a pair of clippers and then pulled off her feet, revealing them clad in the tights that were now visible from the tip of her toes to the point where they disappeared into her shorts. The man dropped them into the bin without a backwards glance as he worked.

He undid the button at the waist of her shorts and pulled down the zipper to reveal Hannah's groin beneath the thick nylon of her tights. A firm tug dragged the shorts under her buttocks and started them down her thighs and then to her knees. When they reached her ankles, the man lifted her feet enough to pull them off completely and they joined her trainers in the bin.

Though he had taken the time to undress Hannah below the waist, the man chose to take the clippers to her T-shirt instead of peeling it off her body. He lifted the bottom of the shirt and sliced through the front, parting it so that the two edges fell to either side of her chest. Cutting the T-shirt from sleeve to collar on both sides took only seconds and the tattered remnants of the garment were soon yanked from beneath her.

For some reason the man turned next to her tights, pulling them away from her body and rolling them down her legs. His manner in doing so was by no means slow, but even a casual observer would have been able to wonder why he took more time and care with Hannah's legs than he did with her torso. Was it possible that one of these men who had shown no emotion whatsoever towards the girl on the table was trying to secretly indulge himself without being noticed? Perhaps it was so, but the moment that another of the men glanced over to see how matters were progressing, he hurried his efforts and completed the task of stripping the tights from the legs.

Beneath her clothes, Hannah had been wearing simple and rather nondescript underwear that consisted of a strapless bra and panties. Her skin was pale and patterned with the hint of delicate freckles in certain places, the hair that became visible as her last items of clothing were removed was a dark brown in colour.

Now that she was naked, another handing over took place as the man who had stripped her was replaced by another who carried a bowl of water and a simple disposable razor. He was more efficient in his work and soon began to shave Hannah's body of all the hair that he could find save for that on her head and her eyebrows. When he was done there was nothing left but smooth and slightly raw skin to be seen.

A more complex stage of her treatment was announced by the arrival of two of the men to handle the next task. They brought to the side of the table what looked at first glance to be a jumpsuit of some exceptionally pliable material, yellow in colour and with an appealing texture that resembled lycra. But upon closer inspection, the thing could be seen to be open at the back while having a hood attached at the collar and the shape of the sleeves and legs were very unusual indeed. Rather than ending in a cuff or incorporating a glove or sock for the appropriate appendage, the ends of the limbs instead flared out to accommodate strange shapes that flared out from the line of the suit and ended in circular pads perhaps four or five inches from one side to the other.

The men began to guide Hannah's legs into those of the suit, pulling the material over her skin and pushing her feet down into the strange shapes at the end. There her feet sank into a firm and yet at the same time yielding substance which seemed to swallow them whole and grip them tightly. It hugged her claves where it was little wider than her own legs and then gradually became wider as it reached the bottom of the legs, only stopping to form the circular base that replaced any defined foot.

The rest of her legs were soon covered as the suit was pulled tightly over them and it became clear that the garment had been made specifically to fit Hannah's dimensions as more of her body was swallowed beneath the yellow material. 

At her groin the material was fitted to her crotch just as tightly before being stretched across her stomach and over her naked breasts. Each of these was slipped into its own sheath within the suit, fitting their shape perfectly so that once they were inside they stood as pert and round as they had before. But the difference was also plain to see, now that they were covered in the same yellow as two thirds of Hannah's body. The delicate nipples were picked out in a shade of orange that contrasted well with the more dominant yellow, smoothed and rendered in thicker layers of the same material.

Hannah's slender arms were placed into the sleeves, her hands sinking into the same material that had claimed her feet. The effect was more subtle here though, the size of the rounded shape in which the arms ended was more in keeping with her own hands and the lines from the wrist followed her own limbs. As the material engulfed her hands, it was clear that while she would be unable to move her digits in any way, Hannah would retain the ability to rotate her wrists while wearing the suit.

With all of her limbs in place, the hood was pulled over Hannah's head after a cap had been applied to cover her hair and make her appear bald. The features of the hood were an uncanny likeness to her own, different only in that they seemed to have been designed as an exaggeration of the real girl rather than a simple copy. Plumped lips in a shade of orange that matched her nipples pouted in a way that Hannah had never been comfortable with and her eyebrows of the same colour somehow managed to make even a neutral expression into a lusty sulk. Her eyelids were matched by the hood as well and in the same orange, long lashes spreading from their edges like the flapping wings of a butterfly.

One of the men turned her onto her back once she had been fully dressed while another used a small device to seal the edges of the suit together, fusing the material so that there was no need for a zipper. 

Moments later the cellular adhesive lining the inside of the suit became active and began to bond to Hannah's skin as the material pulled ever tighter to her skin. Soon there was no way to differentiate between the suit and the woman wearing it, so strong was the effect of the adhesive on her body. The lines of her vagina became visible, the definition of her nipples stood out against her breasts and the lips of her mask opened as they covered her own.

With a painful attention to detail, the men examined the openings and orifices of her body to ensure that the suit was perfectly aligned with the girl beneath. Gloved fingers probed Hannah's mouth, vagina and anus to be certain that she would be able to function without impediment now that she wore a new and artificial skin.

Seeing that Hannah's mouth had opened slightly at the pull of the adhesive, one of the men took the opportunity to slide a small plastic device between her lips and push it to the back of her tongue. The presence of the device made her swallow in an unconscious effort to clear the blockage, but the device had been designed to take advantage of this reflex and the action only caused it to slip further down her throat. Eventually it came to rest against her vocal chords where it lodged itself firmly. The thing would present no impediment to her breathing nor stop consuming food or drink. But it would have a profound effect upon her voice, as she would later discover.

For the final touches to her new body, Hannah was turned onto her stomach with her head propped upon a foam pillow so that, had she been awake, she would have been looking straight ahead.

Two of the men approached the table carrying what looked like elaborate hairpieces in an orange that was a little darker than the colour of her lips and nipples. The first they attached to her seemingly bald head, strong glue holding the thing in place as it extended down the back of the neck and only came to a tapering halt in the middle of her back. The effect was a mane of hair that stood semi-erect and flopped over Hannah's face, framing her yellow features in orange.

The second hairpiece was longer and ended in what looked like a plug of some kind with sharp needles protruding a good inch from the end. The man holding the thing located a socket at the base of Hannah's spine and just above her buttocks, into which he thrust the plug so that the needles sank into her flesh. When he removed his hand it was clear to see that he had fitted a long, glossy tail to the girl's rear that matched her new mane perfectly. 

He prodded the bottom of her spine with a metal probe and watched as the tail responded as if it were a part of her. As it was the thing had been plugged into her nervous system and would move in the same manner as any other of her natural appendages.

Finally one of the men placed what looked like a high-tech version on a branding iron to Hannah's right thigh, just an inch onto the buttock. There was a sound like that of a large stapler being depressed and when he removed the device it had impressed upon her skin the stylised image of a heart in the same orange that coloured her hair and various parts of her body.

The addition of the tail meant that Hannah could not be turned onto her back, so the men simply left her where she lay and retired from the room once their work was done.

Only when one took a step back and appreciated the strange features of Hannah's new body did it become apparent what had been done to her. Alone the elements were puzzling and alien, but taken together they began to make some kind of disturbing sense.

The rounded extremities were not simply blunt stumps, they were exaggerated hooves.

The hairpieces were not outlandish when they were taken as a mane and a tail.

The heart on her thigh was not a tattoo at all, it really was intended to be a brand of some kind.

Hannah's body had been transformed from that of a woman to that of a cartoonish equine. Her skin replaced with smooth lycra, her hands and feet turned into hooves and her hair replaced with a more fitting mane and tail.

All in all she looked like nothing more than a human being melded with a Pony Pal, the ubiquitous brand of plastic ponies that children the world over played with and collected with the devotion of a cult.

None of this seemed to matter to the men in the hazmat suits as they returned to the room and lifted the unconscious human pony from the table and back onto the gurney.

Maybe they had seen stranger things in their time, or maybe they knew to keep their thoughts and observations to themselves when presented with such things.

Either way they wheeled Hannah out of the room and away in silence.

Hannah woke slowly, the pleasant sensation of a deep and truly refreshing sleep proving strong enough to keep down the odd feeling that something was wrong. For a time there were only the vague details of her surroundings, fed to her without conscious thought by her senses as they came alive a little more with each passing moment.

She knew that she was warm and lay upon something that was very comforting, the feeling of it pleasant against her skin. She was also aware that there was an almost sweet smell on the air that she could not place in her semi-aware state, it was clean and simple in nature and not at all familiar to her nose. There were also faint sounds that reached her on the breeze, sounds that reminded her of birdsong heard from a distance.

It was only when she finally opened her eyes that Hannah finally remembered that none of those things were consistent with the sights, sounds and smells she associated with a morning on the tour bus.

She glanced around and saw that she was laid on top of what seemed to be, of all things, a pile of hay and inside some kind of small structure with walls made of wooden planks. There were no windows that she could see; only a door in the middle of one of the narrow walls that seemed to be cut into two halves with the top open to admit daylight.

So, she thought, it was a kidnapping.

Hannah wondered for a moment if she was in the hands of some demented fan or at the mercy of a more sinister and dangerous type of person.

Her thoughts became more urgent as she realised that the hay was rubbing against her skin in a way that would not have been possible had she been wearing clothes. Things only got worse when she made an unconscious effort to cover herself and realised that she could not feel her hands.

Things must have been serious if her kidnappers had stripped her naked and bound her hands.

Hannah decided that there was nothing else for it; she would have to make herself known to whoever was behind all of this and see what she was dealing with.

She drew in a lungful of breath and tried to shout, hoping to attract someone's attention.

The noise that emerged from her mouth took her totally by surprise.

"Hello, is there anyone there?"

That was what she had intended to say, but instead she had uttered a sound that was part whiney and part snort. She tried again, but was once more only able to produce sounds in a similar vein that more resembled an animal snorting than human speech. It was as if something were stopping her voice forming the words that her mind willed it to speak. She had no way of knowing what was causing the phenomenon and she was more than a little scared by the experience.

Of course the cause of the change in her ability to vocalise was a result of the device that had been implanted in her throat. It was a complicated thing that functioned to alter the movement of Hannah's vocal chords whenever she tried to speak. Instead of words, the device would alter the sounds to replace them with noises more fitting for an equine than a human being.

It was when she raised her hands to her throat that Hannah first realised the extent of what had been done to her.

Rather than the sight of her own extremities, she instead saw the rounded yellow pads that covered her hands. Her eyes widened in shock as she moved her altered limbs and saw them react in the same way her former body had done.

Hannah followed the line of her arms until she was gazing down at her chest, trying to take in the changes that had been wrought. She saw her breasts, thighs and then her feet all changed to the same yellow and beneath a new skin that was clearly not natural but rather a stretching and moving lycra.

Her modified hooves explored as best they could, brushing the hair of her mane into her face so that she could see the intense colour and reaching behind her to locate the tail that she was suddenly aware of as though it were a living part of her body. She almost screamed in horror when the tail moved as she thought about the thing.

Still reeling from the sight of her new body, Hannah tried to get to her feet.

It was a daunting task with her feet trapped in the broad hooves of the suit, but she managed to struggle to a standing position after a number of failed attempts. The hooves forced her feet into a position similar to that of a person walking in high heeled shoes, and as it was years since she had worn anything other than trainers, Hannah took a long time to get used to the sensation.

When she was confident enough with her balance, she made her way to the door of the structure in an effort to explore her surroundings. As she reached the two halves of the door, she realised that she was actually standing inside a stable intended for housing a horse. Glancing through the door she saw that the stable had a small porch outside and a number of racks on the wall that held a collection of what she assumed were riding tackle.

Hannah pushed the bottom of the stable door open with one of her hooves and stepped out onto the porch. She was surprised to see that the small wooden structure was not standing in the middle of a field, but was actually very much indoors. The whole thing stood in the middle of a single room with three plain white walls and a third composed of floor to ceiling glass that looked out over a wide and unfamiliar cityscape. The floor of the room was carpeted with what Hannah assumed was some kind of synthetic turf, as it looked too pristine and even to be real grass. There was even birdsong being piped into the room by means of some hidden speaker system and perhaps that was the feature that she found the most disturbing of all.

The glass of the windows afforded Hannah her first chance to see her own reflection from head to toe and it was a sight that instantly caused her a confusing rush of emotions.

She was a horse, she realised as she noted the shape of her hooves and the way in which her mane and tail cascaded over her yellow skin. Or more aptly, she was a pony. She had been changed to resemble a cartoon-like rendering of a humanoid equine, hooved and sporting recognisably animal features and yet retaining the shape and sexuality of a human being.

As a woman in who lived and moved in the music industry and particularly a part of that world that was still woefully male dominated such as rock, Hannah had been unknowingly conditioned by the urge to defy the expectations placed upon her gender. She was more aware than most of the assumption that a woman only fronted a band on her physical merits rather than her talent and knew all too well the reality that a strong-willed female would be thought of as a pushy bitch where a male with the same attitude would be lauded as a maverick and a rebel. She had tried to escape these stereotypes and gain acclaim for her ability as a vocalist and writer, but there was always the fear that if she showed too much of her feminine side she would satisfy the prejudices of her male audience while at the same time alienating the female as well.




Pony Up



Perhaps her mixed reaction to the sight of her altered body was partly due to the fact that she had spent so long toning down her natural sexuality. Now that she was confronted with such a blatant display of her own body, a naked image that provided her with no way to escape the sight of her form and shape it seemed almost stranger to her than the changes that had been made to it.

There was no question that a more rational element of Hannah's mind was incensed at the fact that she had been turned into something that was more a fetishist's fantasy than a real woman. 

But at the same time there was that little voice that she had unknowingly forced to be silent for so long that was actually trying to remind her of the fact that she was only human after all. It quietly spoke to her, reminding her of the last time that she had allowed another person to see what she was seeing in reflected in the glass. It had been a long time ago and the experience had been tainted with negative emotions that had resulted in yet more effort to withdraw into herself and hide her body under the same clothes that the other guys in the band wore and make the woman beneath anonymous.

Now there was no way to hide the sight of her body and the fact that her hands had been replaced by blunt hooves meant that she could do nothing to cure her nakedness. Deprived of her usual methods of escape and the familiar defences she had come to rely upon, Hannah could do nothing but confront the reality of her own sexuality.

All the time that the rational part of her mind was screaming that she should have been searching for some way out of her captivity, anything that could give her a chance to escape whoever had done this to her.

But the voice was getting smaller and quieter all the time.

The obsessive nature of Hannah's mind became ever more focussed on the sight of herself in the surface of the window and she soon forgot everything else as she knelt down in the artificial grass and curled her legs beneath herself. She examined her strangely equine features as best as she was able with her hooves, feeling the tactile sensation of her lycra skin as one limb ran over another rather than with the fingers that were trapped inside them.

She found that she could move her tail with a little effort and let out a sound that could only be described as the merging of a whiney and a delighted laugh as she watched it shake and twitch over her buttocks.

Hannah remembered the affection that she had always held for horses as a child, tempered as it was by the fact she had grown up in an urban environment and in a family for whom economic reality had rendered contact with the creatures almost as likely as contact with moon dust. But they had always stirred something in her as they did with so many people and she found them filled with a natural grace and beauty that was hard to define and yet impossible to deny.

They were elementally beautiful and they were spirited; then they were broken and tamed so that they would take a rider.

What a sensation that must be, she thought absently, to be taken and ridden.

To be desired so strongly that a battle of will had to be fought and afterwards there was either victory or the submission to the wishes of the one who had broken you; something that was by no means in her thoughts a shameful defeat, but rather an exhilarating sense of being taken and mastered.

Hannah's eyes drifted slowly to the riding tackle that hung from the wall outside the stable as she bit her lower lip.

She had always loved horses, but had she really been in love with the idea of being one?

It was an insane thought, but the more she looked at the tackle the more she could imagine the sensation of the halter around her head and the feel of the bit in her mouth.

The hint of movement caught in the corner of her eye stirred her from her thoughts and she turned her head to see that she was no longer alone in the strange room.

A section of the wall that stood to her left had slid silently aside to reveal a hidden entrance to the room. It made sense that there had to be some concealed method of entering the room, but in her distracted state, Hannah had not considered the fact seriously and so the sudden revelation of its existence took her by complete surprise.

Alone maybe the hidden door would have remained only a surprise, but with the figure standing before the entrance it became more of a real shock.

The man was tall, well-built and covered from head to toe in a body stocking that rendered him anonymous. He stood silently with his arms by his sides, only the fact that his head was pointed in her direction could have told Hannah that he was looking at her.

As he walked further into the room, she shied away from him and crawled backwards across the artificial grass until stopped by the glass of the room's outer wall. 

She did not cry out, but her heart was pounding in her chest as she watched him make his way to the stable.

The Man in Black turned his back on her while he busied himself with the racks of riding tackle on the porch of the stable. Hannah heard him sorting through their contents and taking items that caught his eye according to criteria that she did not understand. As he turned to face her, she saw that he was carrying in one hand a full set of harness and bit, while in the other he gripped a short riding crop.

Hannah felt her stomach muscles tighten and her buttocks clench at the sight of the crop. She was pressed up against the glass to such a degree that as she pushed herself to her feet, her yellow backside was almost flattened against the smooth surface.

When the Man in Black was within a few feet of her, she made a half-hearted effort to launch herself forward and flail at him with her arms. But he simply stepped backwards and out of her reach, allowing her momentum to carry her forwards and down onto her knees in the fake grass.

He dropped the crop and quickly took advantage of her disorientation to slip the bit into her mouth and then the rest of the harness around her head. Hannah began to recover from her tumble just as the leather straps tightened around her face, pulling her head backwards in a motion that she was powerless to resist.

Filled with humiliation and panic, Hannah surged to her feet as adrenaline flooded her body. The Man in Black did nothing to stop her rising from the floor, but he kept a firm hand on the reigns that were now attached to the girl's head and made sure that no matter how hard she struggled he was totally in control.

Hannah fought with all the strength she could muster, she shouted and swore while she tried in vain to twist out of her tormentor's grip. At least she thought she swore. In reality the device in her throat turned her words into the angry snorting and protesting sounds of a young pony. She kicked and lashed out on the end of the reigns as her emotions took over completely and in that moment it would have been impossible to tell that it was a woman on the end of the leather tackle and not an actual pony in the process of being broken to take a rider.

Eventually she was forced to her knees and found herself braced over the Man in Black's own thigh as he reached down and retrieved his riding crop from where it had fallen in the grass.

The blows that fell upon her buttocks were not brutal or likely to raise welts upon her flesh, but Hannah still cried out in alarm as the sensation of pain reached her with each pass of the crop. With the passing of each swipe, a little more of the fight went out of her muscles and she began to loosen up bodily so that she offered less of a firm target for the leather as it connected with her backside. Soon she was only being kept from collapsing to the floor by the efforts of the Man in Black and his firm hold on her reigns.

Finally he allowed her to slump to the ground and fall onto her knees, where she simply remained still and took deep breaths as her body still refused to offer any resistance.

Hannah did not see or hear the Man in Black remove his penis from a well hidden opening in the front of his body stocking. It was by now erect and covered in a dark latex sheath that served the same purpose as a more common condom and he was well versed in its use.

The first thing she felt was the sensation of its head, brushing against her bruised buttocks. There was no conscious reaction to the feeling, but somehow she knew what was expected of her and slowly moved onto all fours. Without knowing that she was doing so, her tail raised to allow his member better access.

As his penis slipped between her legs and he entered her, Hannah wondered if there was a moment in which a horse felt this same emotion once it had been taken and tamed. This was not sex as she had known it in the past, not the mutual experience that could be shared between two equal partners. This was a consummation of the confrontation that had taken place moments before in which the Man in Black had attempted to assert his will over her and she had resisted. It was a struggle that she had lost and now she was subject to his whims and powerless to fight back any more.

The movement of his member inside her was confusing more than anything else. Hannah rested her hooves that had replaced her hands on the grass and found that she was quivering with the sensations of the intercourse in a way that she had never done before. For her the entire experience once she had stopped resisting had become passive and she simply allowed the thing to happen to her, feeling her body react to his attentions with no thought of when it would end or what would come next.

Part of her knew that she could have kept on fighting, struggled for all she was worth.

So why had she folded?

All she knew for sure was that she had no answer to that question there and then.

The Man in Black pulled out before he was spent and gave a gentle tug on her reigns so that Hannah instinctively rose to her back hooves. He pushed her back against the glass and picked her up so that she was forced to wrap her legs around his waist. She weighed little in comparison to him and he had no trouble in supporting her weight and allowing gravity to make her sink back down onto his penis. He began to move once more, this time looking her in the eye as much as possible behind his own hood as he did so.

The change in the dynamics and the positions baffled Hannah. One moment she had been literally been in the middle of being dominated and what she could only describe as fucked. The next she was being held in a position and entered in a manner that some might have described as being made love to.

On a sane level it made no sense at all, but perhaps in the world where one kidnapped women and turned them into anthropomorphic ponies it made perfect sense. Perhaps now that she had been dominated, it was time to show that there was a softer and more sensitive side to the relationship between horse and rider.

Where before the Man in Black had been dominating and determined, he was now gentle and seemed to be intent upon sensing Hannah's own reaction to his attentions. He moved in a way that heightened her sounds of pleasure and played with her nipples when he saw that she was excited by the act. Soon she was on the brink of her own climax and though he came before she did, he made sure she was not long behind him.

When it was over he let her down onto the grass and led her back to the stables by the reigns. She was exhausted by the experience and could think of nothing but sleep. Sinking down onto the thick carpet of hay that lined the floor of the stable she was unable to resist as she fell into a deep slumber, haunted by troubling dreams.

Hannah was jolted awake by the familiar feeling of the tour bus hitting a speed bump while travelling at a speed that the object was supposed to discourage. She shook the sleep out of her head and sat up so fast that she almost collided with the low ceiling above her bunk.

She looked at the hand that she had saved her skull with and saw that it was perfectly normal, pink and possessing the standard five digits.

A quick glance in the mirror that was attached to the wall at the foot of her bunk showed her own face staring back at her.

Before she could even think that the entire thing had been a dream, she was suddenly aware of the fact that her backside was simmering in pain despite the fact she was back in the real world and seemingly no longer a lycra pony.

Hannah had no idea how she had been returned to the bus without, it seemed, another soul knowing she had been gone. It was a mystery that she could not begin to fathom, but she was strangely sure that she would not be sharing her experience with anyone else for a long time.

The sound of her band mates staring to stir in their own bunks sealed her determination to keep this whole thing secret. The last thing she needed was for people to start thinking that she had made the entire thing up and she was convinced that in conjunction with her more eccentric mental habits that would be construed as the beginning of her finally losing her marbles.

She would keep this to herself and get on with life.

But the mere thought of anything equine made her shiver with a guilty sensation even as she pushed it out of her mind.

The Man in Black swung the crop through the air and tried to distract himself from the music that was filling the room with the sharp crack that it made. He was no true fan of the band themselves, but as he had just done something with their vocalist, Hannah Watson, that many would have considered a heinous crime and it seemed the least he could do to punish himself.

Casanover were never going to be something that he would have listened to under normal circumstances and it was not even their music that had brought the erstwhile Miss Watson to his attention in the first place.

He recalled all the interviews in which he had seen her voicing her opinions so loudly and with such conviction born of youthful innocence and a natural intelligence that he had been instantly intrigued by her character.

The Man in Black supposed that had he been a more normal human being, he would have simply ascribed his interest down to finding her attractive or being stimulated by her character. But as he was so painfully aware, he was not a normal human being and so he had devised a scenario in which he could come into contact with her and test her will against his own.

The thought of riding a real horse had never occurred to him, but he suspected that after riding Miss Watson, the experience would be something of a disappointment.

He dropped the crop from his hand and prepared to endure another track.

He had to admit that to his ears at least, she whinnied better than she sang.



Pony Wants To Please The Mistress



JJ the pony wants to please the Mistress. He is new to being a pony, so he is trying extra hard to be good. JJ has a strong back, a tight ass, and a beautiful cock. He has sweet eyes and a handsome face. JJ makes a great pony. Ponies are generally considered intelligent and friendly, though sometimes they also are described as stubborn or cunning.  Mistress chose JJ to be her pony because of all these qualities. She likes to have the best things in life, and JJ is one of those. JJ can often be stubborn, so that is why Mistress carries a crop. JJ is cunning too, and this is what captures Mistress' heart.

Mistress brings JJ out to the pasture. He needs training. She hates to have to use the whip, but JJ is petulant, and sometimes he won't behave. When JJ starts his training, he wants to do what he wants to do. He wants to prance for the Mistress, but he doesn't want to work. Mistress needs a working pony. JJ runs off on his own, looking back and defying Mistress. She waits him out. Finally he comes to Mistress. She feeds him sugar from her hand. JJ licks shyly at first. Mistress is patient. She feeds him an apple. JJ takes it slowly, not sure if this is what the Mistress wants. Mistress strokes JJ's neck and head, whispering into his ear. Mistress says, "JJ, I need a pony to ride. I need a pony to keep me company. I need a pony that can carry me. Can you do this?" JJ nods, and nuzzles close to Mistress. 

Mistress explains that there will be a lot of training, and eventually JJ will need to perform in front of Mistress' friends. Mistress likes to show off. She likes her lady friends to know that she has a sweet pony like JJ. She starts to explain to JJ what will be required.

Mistress starts JJ's training by saddling him. She places a riding saddle on his broad strong back. JJ bucks at first. He thought Mistress was making fun of him. Mistress explains that she is not making fun of him, but she is owning and controlling him for his own good. She explains that if he acts out, she will humiliate him. 

She places the saddle on his back. It takes a while for him to settle down. Mistress holds the crop. She swings it and slaps her own hand to show JJ she knows how to use it. She slaps him on the haunch to show him what it feels like. JJ flinches. Mistress says that he will get more pain if he doesn't act right. Slowly, Mistress calms JJ. She strokes his neck and praises him, telling him what a pretty pony he is. She strokes his back and praises how strong and solid he is, and how she will enjoy riding him. She strokes his haunches and tells him how firm and muscular they are, and how this turns on Mistress. Mistress likes a strong pony. 

Mistress starts to tighten the saddle. JJ resists, and Mistress smacks him on the haunches with her crop. She reminds him that she will whip him if she has to. Then she strokes his pretty face and tells him what a good strong pony he is, and how he can make her proud of him. She tightens it some more. He starts to struggle. Mistress decides that he is testing her, so she smacks him several times on the rear. JJ is squirming, and Mistress strikes his balls a few times too. She reaches underneath his belly to feel if the saddle is tight, and sees his balls are tight and his big beautiful cock is hard. Mistress loves JJ's cock. She loves to ride it. But she won't let herself be distracted. She needs to start the training. Mistress strokes JJ's cock and balls while she swats him at first softly, and then harder and harder on his sweet ass with the crop. Sometimes she strikes him hard. Sometimes she barely touches him. Sometimes she just tickles him with the crop. Soon JJ doesn't fear the crop, and even welcomes it. This is what Mistress wants. She wants him to welcome the crop whether he needs to be punished or not.

Mistress starts to place a bit in JJ's mouth. JJ resists. Mistress becomes stern. She pulls him by the saddle around so she can swat him again. He becomes docile quickly and she rewards him by stroking him all over: neck, face, chest, back, cock, balls, and ass. Mistress loves JJ's body, and loves to pleasure him. But he needs to learn to earn his pleasure. Now Mistress approaches JJ again with the bit, and he opens his mouth to allow it. Mistress is so happy she can hardly stand it. She tells JJ what a good pony he is, and reaches under his belly to stroke his hard cock for a good long time. JJ stands still, enjoying the stroking. Soon he forgets he has a bit in his mouth. 

Mistress attaches a bridle to the bit. She is going to teach JJ how to be a pony. She places a halter around his head. JJ starts to resist again, and Mistress does not hesitate to whip JJ with her crop. JJ likes the strike of the crop. It lets him know that Mistress is in charge. JJ likes for Mistress to be in charge. It lets him be playful and carefree, and allows her to take all the responsibility. 

Finally JJ is ready to begin his training. He is cinched into his saddle. He has the bit between his teeth, and has the bridle attached. Mistress can't wait to teach him. Mistress begins teaching JJ to canter. He at first wants to frolic and resist, and this brings the crop onto his beautiful ass over and over. His ass cheeks are red and flaming, but he must like it, because his cock is hard and red and standing at attention. Mistress makes sure to swat his balls whenever she can, and then reaches under and strokes that hard prick occasionally. JJ nuzzles up to Mistress when she strokes his cock. JJ has such a beautiful cock: possibly the most beautiful Mistress has ever seen, sucked, fucked, or stroked. 

Mistress has lady friends who have ponies, too. She has entered JJ in a contest to compete against the other ladies' ponies. Mistress wants JJ to win. If he does, she will reward him well. If he doesn't, she will punish him harshly, and she will do it in front of the ladies. Mistress' lady friends are training all their boys to do many things. Some are house boys. Some are puppies. JJ has played puppy for Mistress before. She was very happy with how he did with that, so she is confident that he can do well as a pony, too.  

Pony training is different than puppy training. JJ will actually have to work as a pony, carrying Mistress in her magnificence. The day of the race finally arrives, and Mistress is thrilled. She is confident in JJ's abilities, and is sure he will win the ribbon. Mistress takes incredible care with her dress that day. She dresses like an English lady, but a fetish version. She is wearing a big hat with a huge feather and netting that falls over her small face. Her hair is curled and tumbling down over her shoulders. Her dress is a laced corset dress of intricate brocade accentuating all her curves. The corset pushes up her lovely smooth breasts. Her nipples are barely covered. The milky tops are fully exposed. Her waist is cinched tightly like JJ is cinched into his saddle. Her hips are covered tightly with velvet. Her skirt is slit high up her thigh, almost showing her pussy. She sits side saddle, letting her legs drape to the side, her legs creamy and exposed. JJ is prancing with Mistress on his back, paying close attention not to knock her off. 

When they arrive, all the ladies are in the saddle, but most are riding Western. Mistress and her friend Lady Luxury are the only ones daring enough to ride side saddle. Mistress wears high heeled boots that sculpt her ankles and expose her legs. Mistress looks like a picture, and JJ is proud she is his mistress. 

There are several competitions. First the ponies race with no riders. In order to do that, JJ has to make sure Mistress is able to dismount easily. He takes her carefully to a plush chair. She climbs down from the saddle, turning and showing JJ her exposed legs and the tops of her thighs, and maybe just barely her puffy lips. Mistress is wearing no underwear under her velvet skirt, and her cunt is rubbing against the soft fabric with each sway of JJ carrying her.  Mistress is soaking wet, and her lips are glistening with juices. The insides of her legs are glistening with sweet secretions. JJ tries to nuzzle his face into Mistress' skirt to taste the juice. Mistress laughs and pets JJ's hair, opening her legs slightly and letting his tongue slide between her creamy legs.  JJ has an incredible tongue, sensitive and insistent. 

The first race begins, and JJ is excited. His cock is hard and standing straight ahead, red and full. One of the ladies fires the pistol, and off they are around the track. JJ gallops quickly, but he is beat out by one of the other ponies. Still, he comes in second, and Mistress is pleased. She brings him to her breast and lets him nuzzle, lapping at her tit tops. 

Next is a jump, and JJ takes this on with abandon. He is able to leap better than any of the other ponies, and easily finishes with the most points. Mistress is thrilled, and this time she lets him lick her cunt as a reward. JJ is heady with winning, and happy to please Mistress. 

The next race is carrying the ladies, and JJ is very nervous. The Western riders will have a much easier time of it.  But Mistress loves a challenge, so she is riding side saddle. Plus, her dress is so tight, it grips her hips and waist, accentuating her curves. Mistress and JJ have practiced riding at home, but this is the big event. JJ is prancing a little, happy to carry Mistress, but scared to drop her. He knows he is fast, agile, and strong, but Mistress had upped the ante by riding side saddle, especially in such a delicate and sexy dress. 

The ponies line up, and one of the ladies' boys fires the pistol. JJ immediately pulls ahead, racing sure and strong. Mistress holds onto his mane and neck, bent over, showing her tits to everyone around. JJ keeps a steady pace, and soon he crosses the finish line first. Mistress is thrilled. She is ready to reward JJ by allowing her to lap her pussy. JJ takes her to a plush chair to recline. Mistress dismounts. She slips easily into the chair. Mistress is small and delicate, but curvy and sexy. Mistress pulls her skirt to one side. JJ plunges into her loins, licking her cunt with abandon. Mistress begins grinding her labia onto JJ's face, riding his nose with her clit. Mistress cums over and over, juices spilling onto JJ's tongue. JJ is happy to pleasure Mistress. This is what he lives for. After Mistress has cum for close to an hour, the ladies watching JJ pleasure her, she pulls his face to her tits so he can lap the milky whiteness there. Her nipples slide up over the lace, and JJ sucks them with as much enthusiasm as he licked her cunt. 

The other ladies are lounging and resting as well, their boys attending to their needs. JJ is rock solid hard, and his beautiful cock is rubbing on Mistress' creamy thighs. Mistress starts to stroke JJ a little, teasing and pleasing him. But JJ is so stimmed that he can't hold back. He starts to squirt cum into her hand, bucking and grinding. Mistress is very displeased. She tells JJ she will have to discipline him. 

Mistress rises from the chair, juices running down her thighs. She licks the jism in her hand. Mistress loves the taste of JJ's cum. But she is angry that he came without permission. Mistress speaks sternly to JJ, loud enough for the ladies to hear, but softly enough for JJ to know this is not all for show. She tells JJ to turn his ass toward the ladies. JJ tries to squirm away. Mistress grabs hold of his bridle, and pulls him so his ass is towards the ladies. The ladies all bring their attention to this. They love to see JJ disciplined. He always gets hard, and his cock is magnificent. They love to see him sucked, sometimes by Mistress if she is feeling generous, and sometimes by one of the other pets. Usually Mistress lets JJ be suckled by a female pet, but occasionally, if she really wants to humiliate him, she has one of the boys suckle him.  JJ can't help but respond to fellatio, but he is always embarrassed when he shoots his wad into a boy's mouth.  

So Mistress begins to discipline JJ. She takes the crop and starts to stroke his ass with the whip. She starts to pat him on the ass lightly. Then she really begins to swing. She starts swatting him over and over, leaving red welts on his ass. Each time she lands a hard swat, she reaches under with her free hand and strokes him. When she brushes the crop lightly across his ass and sacrum, she pets his face. JJ is so aroused, that he is probably going to cum again. Mistress reminds him that if he does cum, he will have to be suckled by one of the boys in front of the ladies. 

The flogging continues. Mistress mixes it up. She strokes, swats, tickles, slams, and pets JJ. Soon JJ is so hard, it looks like his cock might split open on its own. One of the ladies asks if she can taste his cum. Mistress is angry that this lady would want to interfere, then decides this might make it even harder for JJ to keep from cumming. She has Lady Sweet lie on the ground under JJ. JJ's prick is pointing into Lady Sweet's mouth. Lady Sweet has her legs spread wide, stroking her own cunt as she sucks JJ. JJ's ass is in the air. Each time Mistress hits JJ, he lunges forward, and his cock is swallowed by Lady Sweet. Lady Sweet is ooing and ahhing, enjoying the feel of JJ's huge dick in her mouth, and the taste of his pre-cum slipping out his slit. Mistress reminds him not to cum until she instructs him to. JJ wants to cum so badly, whether to shoot his spunk into Lady Sweet's waiting lips, or to shoot it into Mistress' waiting twat. Mistress wants his jism in her twat, and knows if she pushes him to hard, he will spill his seed in Lady Sweet and she will have to wait a little while to get hers. Lady Sweet starts sucking JJ's cock with abandon, and soon JJ is shooting that delicious juice into her mouth. She strokes her pussy hard and fast, making herself cum as JJ fills her mouth. Then she slips her fingers into JJ's mouth for him to taste. 

JJ feels embarrassed. He has lost control. He hasn't pleased Mistress with his cock. And he longs for her cunt to wrap around his still hard dick. Mistress commends JJ for a good day at the races. She praises him for finishing so well in the events. She chastises him for not fucking her. She strokes his pretty face and neck, his strong back, and his sore ass and balls. 

JJ nuzzles against Mistress, trying to get his mouth onto her pussy. Mistress resists at first, then lets JJ lick her cunt. She is standing with her legs apart, JJ's face upturned into her waiting labia. Soon all the ladies are coupling with their pets or each other, and Mistress leads JJ by the reins to a field. There she lays JJ on his back, hard cock pointed skyward. She tells JJ she is going to reward him for such a fun day at the races. Mistress positions herself over JJ's stiff cock, whispering how she has waited all day to feel his manhood stretch her tight little pussy open. She lowers herself just a little, brushing against the tip of his cock with her lips. JJ starts to buck. Mistress reminds JJ that if he acts badly, she will not let him fuck her. JJ settles back. Mistress starts to slide down onto the beautiful rock solid dick. She takes in the head, letting is split her tight lips apart. JJ starts bucking, but again Mistress reminds him to slow down and let her be in charge of the ride. Mistress slides down a little further, juices sliding down his shaft, spilling from her cunt. Slowly and surely, Mistress takes in all of JJ's huge prick. She feels him filling her up to the hilt. She feels his swelling inside her tight pussy. Mistress whispers sweet nothings into JJ's ear. She tells him how strong and handsome he is. She tells him how all the ladies want him for their own. She tells him how proud she is of his willingness to submit. She tells him how he is trly the prize stud at the event. Soon Mistress starts to cum, her cunt clutching JJ's manhood. She starts to buck him furiously, taking all of him in fast and furious. She twists her fingers in his mane. She kisses his sweet eyes. Then JJ starts to cum as well. He starts bucking back frantically, trying to sink his huge dick into the recesses of Mistress' cunt. Their pace slows, and soon they are lying in each others' arms, kissing and nuzzling each other. Mistress has had a wonderful day, and JJ has as well. Mistress can't wait to play games with JJ again. 

The End