Pony Girl, Volume 1

by Mark Andrews

  But I couldn’t help it. As Black Beauty galloped by, his magnificent body utterly captivating, I couldn’t help but turn and watch his beautiful muscles rippling as he sped by and Peter, after warning me three times, now steered me back to the stables.

  “Trouble, Peter?” asked Arthur Scott as we turned off the track where he had been perched on the rail, watching all of his charges as we trained.

  “She won’t keep her eyes on the track, sir,” the boy said (he was about eighteen, I judged).

  “And you’re going to blinker her?”

  “I thought it might teach her a lesson, sir.”

  “And so it will. Go ahead.”

  We walked back into the tackle room and now Peter jumped down and fetched a bridle. But this one had blinkers on them - except that these didn’t just stop the pony from seeing out sideways - they totally covered his or her eyes.

  I was aware of the rule against talking but I was desperate. “May I speak, sir?” I said.

  “It had better be important, ponygirl, or you will be caned,” he said threateningly.

  “I will try harder sir, but please don’t blind me!”

  “It was not important enough to avoid the cane and as for the other, you will learn, girl, that here, we speak once only. I gave you three chances as it is your first day. Punishment, and/or remedial treatment will always follow mistakes. Yours was a grave one and so you have earned five strokes of the cane - as well as the blinker harness.”

  He left me standing there then, placed the harness on his seat and went for a cane while I stood there, blinking back the tears that his words had brought. Was I really so enamoured of this new life I had chosen for myself, I wondered - and as he returned wielding the nasty-looking rattan cane, I felt sort-of weak at the knees. I had never been caned in my life and the very idea of being caned by this boy, four years my junior, was quite awful. And yet that weird crinkly feeling was back, down between my legs ...

  I stood there quietly as he took up position beside me, not bothering to unharness me but raising the cane high over his right shoulder and then lashing it down to connect - hard -against my cheeks - both of them.

  I screamed and jumped into the air, my hands coming down to ease the red-hot pain of the stroke. “Hands up on the head, girl,” he said softly and I obeyed - but tearfully, waiting for the next stroke. It came, but not quite as hard and this time I was able to take it stoically, a fact he complimented me on. The last three were even less powerful and I knew he had given me just a token of a real punishment. I felt a wash of gratitude towards him but then as he returned the cane to its place and now fitted the bridle with its eye patches onto my head I felt fear. I was going to be blind. Totally blind. I wouldn’t be able to see anything and would have to rely on Peter’s eyes to save me from crashing into one of the other ponies or their gigs.

  What I didn’t know is that this happened to every one of us during our early stages. We had to be taught that we were not our own masters. That we had to rely on our grooms and later the boys who rode us at the race meetings to make the judgements for us. It wasn’t an easy lesson but one I learned very quickly for until I did learn it, the blinker bridle would be used every day.

  It certainly was horrible. I had no idea where I was going and only the tugs on the reins told me where to go. I didn’t much like the bit in my mouth, either. The metal bit was pulled hard into the back of my mouth and it had a tongue guard to keep that organ pressed down. My mouth was always open and I salivated most unbecomingly, the saliva dribbling down both cheeks. But worst was my lack of vision.

  It was terrifying until I learned to trust Peter as I trotted around the track, well aware that there were seven other human ponies doing the same thing and while none of them were blinkered, I was and could easily crash into them - with devastating results - if Peter’s attention wandered at the wrong moment.

  But he was a good groom and trainer and he kept me blind for the remainder of that afternoon, well knowing the terror I felt and that in future, I would scrupulously keep my eyes staring straight ahead of me and trust to him to steer me in the appropriate course. Only the Stage Three ponies wore bridles of course and thus we lesser ponies still relied on voice commands to tell us where to go and how fast but we had to obey them just as if we were in fact bridled and had reins to give us these instructions.

  It was a horrible afternoon. First it was very hard work for even if I had worked hard at my own athletic endeavours: squash and track and field, I had never trained all day. Remember I had started straight after breakfast, more or less and had exercised in the gym at one thing or another all morning, then, this afternoon, at running around the track at a trot. It wasn’t all the time, Arthur and Peter knew better than that but I did a few laps and then rested for a while, then went back to a few more laps - and all the while I was sightless. Peter didn’t remove the blinkers until we had finished for the afternoon.

  They were actually soft pads that fitted right into the eye socket and were then covered by the stiff leather. They let in no light at all - not even a glimmer and it was indeed quite terrifying for the first hour or so. After that I sort-of got used to it a little but I still hated it and I quickly resolved to be obedient to Peter’s demands in future.

  We finished the day’s exercises at four and returned to the stables. I was never more glad to have the belt and bridle removed and to head in to the shower recess. I was hot and sweaty and I thought the blast of cold water would be most welcome. It was and now I found that at the evening shower, we were allowed, no even required, to bathe each other. Brown Nose and Black Beauty were a pair of course although I had a fleeting desire to feel his beautiful body as I soaped him down but he was already spoken for, as it were, and so were all of the others except for Little Cock, a diminutive but still highly athletic boy who looked as if he came from Thailand. He was a very handsome young man and his light copper skin was a sheer delight.

  We fronted up to each other, soap in hand and grinning hugely, began to soap the other’s body just as the other three couples were doing. From then on, the two of us were a pair and although we weren’t allowed to speak to each other, we grinned a lot and told each other in this manner how much each appealed to the other.

  We were allowed as much time as we wanted in the shower but that wasn’t that long for our heat soon cooled under the cold water and then our grooms rubbed us down - hard, with the coarse rags that soon had our naked flesh glowing again, and then it was time to eat.

  Once more I fed in the same indecent manner, down on my hands and knees, head down in the bowl before me, tail and bottom up high while our trainers walked up and down behind us, eyeing our naked bodies as we fed.

  You will note we didn’t eat. We were animals in all things and animals were fed! If we remembered to wiggle our tails as we fed, that was to the good and might even earn us a lump of sugar but it wasn’t every day by any means. Sweet things were a real luxury and at normal times, our only sugar intake came from the vegetables that were mushed up as part of our feed.

  By five p.m., we were herded along to our stalls and I was pleased to see Little Cock was opposite me - indeed, all partners were housed opposite each other. But what a dreadful name for such a beautiful man! It was accurate, however. His penis was really tiny, as were his testicles. It didn’t take away from the beauty of the rest of his body however. Small he might have been; athletic - highly muscled in his small body, he most certainly was and I delighted in looking at him.

  I sat on the straw in my stall and looked across the passageway at him now. We were allowed to do this and they left the lights on for an hour so we could ogle our ‘partners’ if we wished. He grinned at my obvious interest in his body and stood up and flexed his beautiful muscles at me and so I also got up and, as far as the chain (and the still tender clit ring) allowed, posed my body for his pleasure too. As I did hi
s tiny cock did engorge but it was still a quite miniscule organ for even erect it was little more than an inch long and I wondered that an otherwise so magnificent body could have developed such a small penile organ and matching testes.

  Later, much later, Lord de Veere acceded to his request to have them removed, all of them, but I’m jumping the gun and I’ll tell that story as it unfolds later on.

  Arthur Scott didn’t live in our stables but Peter and the other grooms all had rooms down at the end of our corridor. As I said earlier, theirs were proper rooms and were lined and had real furniture in them, unlike our bare stalls that had only straw. During this bedding down hour, the groom wandered up and down the passageway and now and then, usually on Saturday nights, we might be allowed to talk, if we did it quietly and kept the subjects neutral. They certainly didn’t want - and were not going to allow - any arguments among us. I didn’t see that until my last night there and so this second night, we could only whinny or neigh at one another as we posed and strutted in our stalls.

  I found the grooms delighted in this hour. They were still clothed of course and we were stark naked but as we each made up to our opposite number, we presented our bodies in the best light and the grooms took advantage of it. They were not allowed to have sex with us although they touched us - and very intimately - all the time as part of their duties. I suppose it must have been very frustrating sexually for them to have us so near, our so perfect bodies constantly on show and being displayed so provocatively - and yet not be permitted to slake their obvious lust on us.

  Nevertheless, they certainly took in their fill of us before lights out and we came to flirt with them just as much as we did with our chosen partners. I delighted in posing and strutting so obscenely to Little Cock and enjoyed the sight of his fabulous body, small and all as it was, posing to me, but when Peter or one of the other assistant trainers strolled by and stopped to lean against the side wall and watch, I did it to him as well. I suspect some of the trainers may well have been bisexual or even gay for some spent as much or more time peering in at the boys’ stalls but since they weren’t allowed to touch us sexually, the boys didn’t mind and some even posed for them outrageously. I suppose actually the gays amongst the grooms may have had an advantage for they could always share a bed afterwards whereas the hetero guys would have to use their own hands to assuage any lasting lust.

  Anyway, despite my earlier tiredness, Little Cock and me played up to each other shamelessly during that hour and then the head boy said it was time, turned the main lights out and we snuggled down into our straw to sleep once more.

  Chapter 4

  The days that followed were much the same. I delighted in them, particularly as I had now learned my lesson and didn’t earn any more remedial punishments such as the cane or the blinding bridle. I could now look directly ahead of me during the practice trots and gallops around the track without the temptation to look sideways at Black Beauty or Little Cock or the other ponies overwhelming me.

  Not that I didn’t still delight in their bodies, mind. Just that I looked at them at other times. When we were being cleaned under the hoses in the recess, feeding from the bowls on the floor, in the gymnasium, and then of course I had all the time in the world to watch Little Cock as he posed outrageously to me during that last hour of the day, his cock, small and all as it was, hard and jerking up and down in the empty air in front of him as he jerked his loins back and forth, flexed his beautiful biceps muscles as well as all the rest of his delightful, though small physique.

  For all his small stature, he was remarkably fast on the track. I think he was incredibly strong and as he passed me at a gallop, I could see the way his beautiful thigh muscles bunched and corded (yes, it was possible to see the others even if I had learned not to turn my head).

  But my week there was over all too soon and on the Sunday, Sebastian came back to pick me up. He came early in the morning and strolled around the gym, watching as I performed at the various exercises and then he went and had lunch with his cousin. In the afternoon he came back and sat on the rail with Arthur Scott, watching as I pounded around the track, still stark naked of course (and still relishing it), my times already much better than on my first day, and my style, particularly at the so difficult trotting gait, also much improved.

  I didn’t get to speak to him until we were in the car going home but I sensed his pleasure at my development as a pony-girl as he watched me during the day. Then, late in the afternoon, he came to my stall and after watching as my clit ring was removed (and handed to him), he passed my clothes in to me. I dressed in some disappointment, I can tell you. That week had been marvellous and now I faced a return to the humdrum life of a law office, even if it did mean I would get to be with Sebastian during the day as well as some nights.

  In this regard I was rather torn. I really did delight in my life as a slave - as a pony girl whose every action was regulated and controlled and who was being trained under the whip and cane to be better, faster and absolutely precise in her every motion. On the other hand, I had missed Sebastian a great deal. I knew I was in love with him and wanted to be with him all the time. It was a vexing question and one I really had no answer for.

  “Well, Mercedes? And what have you decided?” he asked as we headed down past the castle towards the main gate.

  I looked at him, seeing his so handsome profile and a wash of love, and worry, passed right over me as I thought of the riddle again. “Oh, Sebastian, you can’t know how much I loved it - but also how much I missed you ... I want so much to be a permanent part of those stables - to be owned by you and raced in front of all your friends - but I also want to be near you; in the office but also on our wonderful dinners and dances ...”

  He reached over and patted my thigh in his so endearing way then turned and smiled at me before looking back at the road. “But you can’t have both, is that it?”

  “No. I can’t have both ... Oh, how to choose? What does you father say?” I asked suddenly.

  “He will leave it up to you and me but particularly you. It really has to be your decision, you know.”

  “Can’t you help me?” I said plaintively.

  “Of course. All I can, but the final decision must still be yours. You will be giving up the law, probably forever...”

  “And you? Will I be giving you up, too?”

  “Oh no. I love you, Mercedes. If you hadn’t embarked on this course I was going to ask you to be my wife. I still will, when all this is over.” He paused and smiled across at me again. “It’s up to you, though. If you abandon this plan now and accept my offer of marriage, we will set up house together in London and I will purchase a country house somewhere near here and then you will be able to rule over our own stables of pony girls and boys.”

  What a tempting offer, I thought. What did he really want of me, though? I knew from looking at the sparkle in his eyes as he had watched me this morning and afternoon, that he too delighted in me as a pony girl. What I wasn’t sure about was that he, as a member of England’s aristocracy, could parade me about semi- and then stark-naked as a human pony - and then later marry me and present me to his friends and relations as his wife - and would I be able to hold up my head to those of them who had seen me perform as a naked pony girl?

  I said so.

  Again he smiled, those little crinkles about the corners of his mouth, curling up in that boyish way that made me feel so wonderful. “Do you think I care one whit for what they think, Mercedes? I am proud of you in whatever capacity you are at the moment. In any society, right now, you are a credit to your parents and to yourself. You carry yourself with exactly the right bearing, neither subservient nor bombastic and you do it just as well with the duke as with the waiters in Claridge’s. No, if you do decide you want a life as a pony girl for a while, I have no doubt that when that life is over, you will walk down the aisle in the cathedral over y
onder with as much aplomb as if you were born to the greatest family in England.”

  “Oh Sebastian, I do love you,” I said softly, reaching over to touch his hand. “All right, then if the choice is mine, I want to go back there. Perhaps we might go back to London for this one night, which I hope will be in your bed - and then I would like you to take me back to the castle tomorrow morning - very early, so you can be back at the office in time to start work.”

  He grinned again. “Oh I think Father will forgive me a day, or at least a morning. Yes, then we will dine at Claridge’s, as I have booked us in there and of course we will make love afterwards. We will then sleep in and later in the morning I will return you here.

  “You will then be my pony slave. You will be trained rigorously and eventually compete - even up to Stage Three, stark naked and with the so indecent dildos up your bottom and your delightful sex ...”

  His words were harsh but I knew he was giving me one last chance to pull out and go back to my humdrum life as a law student - at least until we were married. But even with the wonderful picture he had painted of our married life and even of our new human pony stables, I knew I had to get this craving to be shamed and humiliated as a pony myself out of my system and so I merely turned to him and agreed.

  “Of course, Sebastian,” I said meekly but grinning wickedly up at him.

  The dinner was wonderful. And so was the at first soft and gentle sex in his bed afterwards. I couldn’t get enough of his wonderful body but of course now I compared it with that of Black Beauty, Little Cock and the other boys in the stables and Sebastian came up just as good as them. I realised now that he must spend a lot of time punishing himself in the gym and I resolved all over again to work even harder when I was back at the castle, to get my own body as good as his was. Not that I was any slouch, mind, just that I wanted to be the very best that was possible.

  Our sex started soft but it gradually developed into a war zone, with both our bodies going at it hammer and tongs, our skins slick with sweat and our breaths ragged as we struggled to get just that tiny little bit more pleasure from each other.