Pony Girl, Volume 1

by Mark Andrews

  “Hands up behind your head. Get your elbows well back and now spread your legs,” he ordered after a few seconds,” he said in that same brusque, staccato manner. And now, again he sat there, looking me up and down critically for a few moments, his fine eyes bright as he looked my naked body up and down.

  “And now walk about the office. Raise your knees high with each step. Pretend you are already a human pony.”

  I did, the blush getting deeper and deeper by the minute as I performed as he ordered - but thrilled to the very core of my being by the indecency, the shame and humiliation of what he was making me do.

  All right, I know he was only ordering me to do it and I could easily have refused, put on my clothes and left his office but I didn’t want to. I was already right into this scene - and he knew it. He was testing me; assessing me as a pony. On the way I reacted to his so indecent suggestions and actions now would rest my whole future. And so I high-stepped it round and round the front part of his office while he stood up and came round the desk to stand and watch me.

  Part of my shame came from the knowledge that on the other side of that door was a whole office full of lawyers, secretaries, paralegals and other employees, all going about the business of a busy law practice while I was here, in the senior partner’s office, stark naked and performing as a potential ponygirl. It was heady stuff but I knew it was what I wanted - what I had unconsciously wanted all my life.

  “All right. You may stand still now. Here, in front of me.”

  I did and now stood only feet from him as his eyes continued to rake up and down my body. “You have a highly athletic body, Mercedes,” he observed.

  “Thank you, sir. Squash and athletics,” I added by way of explanation.

  “I see. And if we accepted you as a pony girl, what level of commitment would you wish to apply to this activity?”

  I looked at him in puzzlement for a moment. He smiled. “I mean would you wish it to be just a few hours a week as a pony, or something more?”

  “Oh I was hoping for a total - and permanent - commitment to it, sir.”

  “So you would be prepared to give up the law entirely and become a real pony girl to my son?”

  “Yes, sir. Exactly that, if I was acceptable.”

  “Oh you’re acceptable, all right. The thing is, girl, we, that is my family and I don’t indulge in forced slavery, unlike some others ... If you came to Sebastian as a permanent pony it must be with your full consent, knowing exactly what is involved. There is also the question of your law degree and your future with this firm. You have the makings of a very good lawyer and I would be sorry to see you depart from that stream and from this firm. On the other hand, watching you compete as a near-naked human pony would be a distinct thrill and I know my wife will also be delighted to hear of your decision - if indeed it comes to that.”

  He paused a moment and then reached out to cup my right breast. “Does this embarrass you, girl?”

  I smiled slightly, blushed a lot and nodded. “Yes it does, sir, but I love the shame ...”

  “Perhaps you are a born slave. Perhaps this is exactly what you want ...”

  “Oh I know it is, sir. I can feel it inside me. I want so much to join your other ponies and learn to be the best one there is. I will work very hard!”

  “I know you will.” Again he paused, looked at me speculatively for a few moments then went on, “You understand that once in the stables, you will, to all intents and purposes, cease to be a human being. You will be treated as an animal in all things. You will be disciplined - physically disciplined - with whip and cane when you misbehave or fail to work your hardest?”

  “Yes, sir. I understand that.”

  “All right. But let’s not jump in head first. Let’s say you take a week’s leave. Sebastian will take you, right here and now out to the castle. I will telephone my cousin and inform him you are joining his little troupe of human ponies on a trial basis. Let’s see how you go after a week, eh?”

  “Oh, thank you, sir ... shall I dress now?”

  “No. in fact, I will remove these clothes now, put them away for safe keeping. You will not be needing them again, until next Monday anyway, and perhaps not again - ever ...”

  He gathered up my clothes and shoes and took them into the small bathroom off his office while I watched him with some trepidation. Was I burning my bridges, I wondered. He came back, went to his desk and called Sebastian, asking him to step into his office. He moved over to the door to admit my so handsome lover who smiled at me as he entered the just open door and closed it behind him although he didn’t lock it now.

  “She may be just right, Sebastian,’ his father said. “I will telephone Milford to ask his permission for her to join our little stable but there won’t be any objection, I feel sure. Bag her and take her now.”

  I stared from one to the other of them, excited as all hell at this little exchange - up till the last statement, anyway ... Bag me? What did that mean? I was to find out in short order. Sebastian grinned at me as if to say, ‘well, you asked for this’ and then went into his father’s bathroom, off which there was a small bedroom. He emerged from this holding a large hessian sack which he now draped over my body then pushed me down onto my bottom so he could tie the neck of the bag.

  “Just hang loose, Mercedes,” he said, “and don’t for God’s sake say a word until I get you out.”

  He then hoisted me up onto his shoulder and took me out of the office, presumably by the private entrance to his father’s little suite, then into the service corridor and down the goods lift at the back of the building into the car park.

  He sat me in the passenger seat and then undid the bag and stripped it up and off my body, leaving me stark naked in the front passenger seat of his Jag. I was about to protest but he held his finger up to his lips and closed the door, placing the bag in the boot and then hopped in beside me.

  “You wanted to be a pony, Mercedes. Ponies aren’t allowed clothes - not permanent ponies, anyway.”

  “But we are shortly going to be coming out into the London streets,” I said.

  “Yes, and people will look down and see you naked ... Humiliating, isn’t it?” he said, grinning broadly as he backed the big car out of his spot and drove out of the building car park.

  It was as I had expected. Most people didn’t see me of course but when the car stopped at lights, those in the cars to my left, if they glanced at me, could see my upper body was bare. Few noticed this included my breasts or lower but of course I thought they did. The windows were slightly tinted and this added to the indistinct view they got of me but to me - and that was what was important here - I thought they could see me in all my naked glory and my shame stayed with me until we were right out of London and headed down to the castle.

  Once there, Milford, was there to greet us. He had come down to the secret stables and human pony training track to see Sebastian’s first acquisition as a pony and as I got out of the car, still stark naked of course, he looked me up and down appreciatively.

  “You’ve chosen very well, Sebastian,” he said smiling lightly down at me.

  “Actually I didn’t choose her, Milford. She chose me ... I took her to the meeting yesterday and she knew straight away this was what she wanted for herself.”

  “She did, eh, well she’s certainly excellent horseflesh. May I?”

  Sebastian nodded and smiled. “Of course. But make it a very thorough inspection, will you?”

  His cousin grinned. “Naturally.”

  Thorough wasn’t the word. Milford, seventh Viscount de Veere, was a connoisseur of both equine and human horseflesh. Unlike many of today’s hereditary peers, he was still the master of a vast estate that included not only lands: farms and villages, but also interests in the City. He was an excellent businessman but his abiding passion was horse
s - of both kinds and while he never trained and raced unwilling girls and boys, those he did have in his stables were trained very hard - and had to accept his rigorous discipline if they wished to remain a part of the scene. Of course they could go at any time they wished. He abhorred the compulsion that I later found existed in some areas of the sport and he was eminently fair in the way he treated us.

  As long as we performed to the best of our abilities, we were rewarded with little luxuries, but if we didn’t give our all to our training, then we suffered - and boy did we suffer!

  Right now he was going to inspect my naked body - and in as salacious, indecent and intrusive manner as he could devise. He well knew that in every single one of us ponies, male or female, the shame we got from being naked - permanently so; of being treated as animals all the time; of being fed mush (a very healthy mush but mush nonetheless); and trained far harder than any Olympic athlete, was the major part of our delight in our submission as ponies and now he treated me to an introduction to this life.

  The car was parked in the yard inside the high wall that surrounded the human pony stables. Behind me was the building where, presumably, we were housed. Just down the way was the track and there I could see young men and women harnessed to the gigs and either trotting or galloping round and round. They were all as naked as I was except that they were harnessed of course - and they had all been depilated. Their sex was quite naked of hair whereas mine was still in the trimmed but still hairy state...

  And now, in full view of Sebastian as well as the trainers, grooms and other ponies, the seventh Viscount de Veere ran his hands all over my flesh. “Position, Mercedes,” Sebastian said quietly and, guessing this meant the position his father had required of me back in his office, I assumed that one now, spreading my legs and clasping my hands up behind my head while pulling my elbows as far back as I could get them knowing full well that this exposed my breasts even more.

  The viscount nodded in approval. “She shows much promise, Sebastian,” he said, smiling down at me as his hands began to rove all over my flesh. I think he was genuinely assessing my muscles and their tone but he also made it very indecent as well, feeling and fondling my breasts - which had nothing to do with my ability to run, stroking my bottom cheeks - as well as in between them and even delving in to poke at my anus after making me bend over and spread my legs even wider apart; then ordering me to stand up again so he could now inspect my vagina - which he did for ages.

  I glanced at Sebastian from time to time but he just smiled blandly at me, as if having his girlfriend’s body so indecently inspected, as if she was an animal, was the most normal thing in the world - and I gloried in it - while blushing furiously, of course. It sounds odd but it was that shame and humiliation that I craved so much ... we all did. Hell, if we didn’t, we wouldn’t have been there.

  “All right,” said Milford, “let’s get her into the stables. I’ll be interested in seeing her hosed down, shaved, ringed and put into her stall, then I want you to come up to the castle. I’ve got some new coins I want to show you.”

  He led me in through the big double doors of the building and now I saw that the left side of the building was devoted to the open-fronted stalls for us ponies, the males on one side and the girls on the other, as well as the proper rooms for the grooms and trainers who lived with us, while the other side was devoted to tackle and harness rooms, clinic and an indoor training area including a well-equipped gymnasium.

  First, I was to be bathed. I was taken to a concrete ablution area that was really just a huge open shower recess - without the shower heads. I assumed we were all cleaned together from the size of the area. I was pushed into this and then one of the grooms took up a large hose and played it all over my body for a minute or so. The water was freezing and I danced around under its blast and shivered heavily even after he turned it off and handed me in a cake of plain soap to wash myself with. After I was properly cleaned - watched by Sebastian and his cousin, the boy blasted me with the icy water once more and then rubbed me down with a rag. This was not a towel. It really was a rag and as I stood there on the cold concrete, the boy, being scrupulously proper, rubbed all the moisture from my body and then combed my hair.

  Now I was ready to be shaved and ringed.

  I had never thought of myself as a masochist - that is a lover of pain and neither Sebastian nor any of my former boyfriends had ever engaged in such a thing with me, but the implication was that they were going to put a ring somewhere on my body. I had had my ears pierced and knew that was slightly painful. This, I guessed, would be far worse, no matter where they ringed me. Where would it be? My nose, perhaps?

  No it wasn’t. I was taken to the small room they used as a vet’s clinic (the vet they used was a real doctor who was in on the human pony scene) and there ordered into the gynaecological chair they used to examine us. My wrists and ankles were secured and then the head trainer, a man named Arthur Scott who had been a personal trainer as well as an athletics coach of some distinction, came in and prepared me for the coming piercing.

  First he shaved my genital area. Totally and carefully until I was as smooth and naked down there as the rest of my body but then, to my consternation, he swabbed down the same area with alcohol - which hurt like hell, then, after teasing it until it emerged from its little hood, grasped my clit and then, using the large needle he had hidden in his other hand, simply pushed it through the organ while I screamed in pain and attempted to push up off the table. Only Sebastian on one side and his cousin on the other, both pushing down on my belly kept me in place as the trainer performed his horrible little operation.

  He swabbed the area down again while I screamed afresh at the renewed and so fiery agony and then took out the ring from its antiseptic plastic bag. This was a hinged device with a permanent lock on it. It was quite thick - I would say a couple of millimetres - and the ring, when closed, would have been about two inches across. He pushed the open end of this through the hole he had just made and then snapped it closed, again dowsing the whole area with more of the fiery spirit.

  The locks were then undone and I was helped up off the table and taken down to my stall. These were each filled with straw - and nothing else. They had a water trough near the front, kept filled automatically, and on the back wall was a huge ring dangling about three feet up from the floor. Attached to this was a chain of medium weight that was about six feet long. The trainer now locked this onto my new clit ring and all three of them now stood in the passageway staring in at me as I stood there, naked, a human pony at last, in my own stall...

  Sebastian smiled at me, waved - and then all three of them turned and left me alone to contemplate my immediate future. I surmised that with the wound in my vagina so new, they wouldn’t be training me today but I was looking forward to meeting my companions.

  Alas, I had forgotten we were all now ponies. Speech between us was forbidden and would be rewarded by painful punishment - a dose of the cane as a minimum and the whip for repeated offences. If they really wanted to punish us, we were hung up by our ankles with our legs stretched very wide apart for a day and then in the evening, our rumps were paddled - hard - with a wooden bat.

  I sat down on the straw, very carefully, for the wound in my clit was still sending shock waves through my brain and wondered if I was still as enamoured of my new life as I had been when I woke up this morning.

  The answer to that was yes! A resounding yes! Perhaps even more so. I just said the wound in my clit was sending shock waves through and through me and that was true - but I now found that I gloried in this pain as much as I had from the shame and humiliation of being driven naked through the streets of London. I touched the ring and the pain was multiplied. I gloried in it even more. I actually tugged at it and it now sent electric barbs of pure fire through me.

  Yes! I screamed (silently, to myself). This was what I wanted - what I needed. I wan
ted them to harness me right there and then and take me out, whipping me to faster and faster gallops around the track. They didn’t, but I really wanted them to.

  All afternoon I sat or lay there, now learning that I was no longer the master of my own destiny or even of my immediate actions. I was an animal under training and I had to do what they wanted me to. No more; no less.

  I didn’t see Sebastian again that day, or indeed, not for the whole week. His father had told him to leave me there to be trained and assessed under real human pony conditions and I was.

  Later in the afternoon, the other girls and their male counterparts trudged in, worn our after a hard day’s training and I stared at them with great interest. All were young, perhaps eighteen to late twenties, I thought and their bodies were everything I had ever dreamed of for my own physique. I am athletic rather than voluptuous and I preferred this in a female contrary to what most other people prefer in a woman. But the boys were something else. I was, of course, more interested in them as sexual objects and every one of them was the absolute epitome of everything I found attractive in a human male, even if these human males were now ponies ...

  They were athletic to a tee. Not an ounce of fat anywhere on their bodies. But they all also had beautifully soft and blemish-free skin. The whites amongst them all had light tans that made them look even better while the two blacks (one each male and female) gleamed wonderfully. All were handsome or attractive in face, too - as I said, perfect human beings, all of them.

  Oh how I wanted to greet them; tell them who I was and exchange stories with them but all they were allowed was a neigh of greeting to me - which I could return. If a pony was caught talking to another (and they had highly sophisticated listening devices to catch us out for Lord de Veere was very serious about his human pony training) we were placed in a horrible muzzle - a bridle really with a real metal bit that was pulled right to the back of our mouths so we couldn’t talk. Mr Scott had come back during the afternoon and placed one of these on me. “Just to show what awaits you if you break the rule and actually speak, Mercedes,” he explained.