Pony Girl, Volume 1

by Mark Andrews

  Sebastian is as good a lover as they come - at least in my limited experience. He enjoys it himself of course but he is also considerate of me and he always tries to bring me to multiple orgasms before the first of his own. He is a very virile man and can always manage three climaxes himself as long as he spaces it out. This means that our love-making goes on for hours - just as well we are both as fit and as strong as we are.

  That night I clung to his body in the throes of the last of about ten orgasms, just as he was ejaculating the last of his seed into me. His chest was heaving and I revelled in the feel of his hot chest and belly muscles against mine while he kissed me passionately.

  The next thing I knew it was late the next morning and Sebastian was up and dressed and staring down at my naked body amongst the dishevelled bedclothes. He had a tray with a rosebud, tea and toast and he sat on the bed as I hoed into the repast.

  “Well, Mercedes? Any change of heart?”

  “No, Sebastian,” I said, smiling up at him. “I really do want it - need it. I don’t know for how long but then, when it is over - and I will know when that is, if you still want me as your wife, then that is what will happen ...”

  He leaned down and kissed me - softly, lightly and with much love and then, producing my clit ring, replaced it as if sealing the bargain. “So be it, then. All right, pony slave. Up you get. I have something else for you to put on ...”

  I put the tray aside and, pushing the bed clothes off me, climbed out of bed to stand up, stark naked before him. His eyes raked up and down my body, taking in the shaven state of my vulva - and the ring that once more adorned my clit.

  He picked up an item from the floor at the foot of the bed, where I couldn’t see it and held it up for me to see. I cried out in shame but then grinned as that shame washed over me and excited me in that now so familiar way.

  It was a bridle! He laid its various straps over my head and then proceeded to buckle all the bits together, gently pushing the bit into my mouth and then tightening the buckle that pulled it right back, forcing my mouth open. I was still naked, apart from the bridle but he now clipped a leading rein to it and then headed towards the door.

  I pulled back. Surely he had forgotten something? I raised me eyebrows at him pleadingly for of course I could no longer talk and gestured down to my nakedness. He pretended to a sternness and admonished me. “You are a pony, girl. You have no rights to privacy. Come on!” and with this he tugged at the rein and led me out of the apartment and along the passage to the lift.

  I was terrified. It was eleven in the morning. All sorts of people could be about the very fashionable building and I was so naked, my breasts bare, my shaven vagina with its large golden clit ring, all so apparent to anyone.

  We only met one person - down in the basement garage, but I was in a blue funk all the way down in the lift - that it would stop at another floor and someone would get in and demand of Sebastian what was what with the girl!

  As it was, the woman - I suppose she was in her forties, took one look at me, sniffed, raised her eyebrows, smiled at Sebastian, and simply passed on. There is no doubt about the English aristocracy! It protects its own. As far as that woman was concerned, Sebastian’s business was just that - his.

  I got into the car and then we were off, back to my wonderful world of pony slavery and the nearer we got to the estate, the wetter I became. Sebastian didn’t take the bridle off all the way and I sat there next to him, stark naked except for it, my legs open wide - for he had demanded that of me as soon as I had got into the car. “Open your legs, Mercedes - and keep them open. You have no right of privacy any more so make sure your sex is well exposed to everyone.”

  He paused then, his mind obviously on something else and then he turned to me - and reached to lightly fondle my right breast for a moment. “Your name,” he said absently as his hand caressed the softness of my bosom. “Yes, that will do nicely ... Tingle Tits! How do you like the name?”

  He smiled at me and then apologised. “Oh, sorry. Of course you can’t offer an opinion, can you? But yes, it fits you perfectly. Your tits do tingle as I feel them and the name has a nice ring to it - also nicely shaming for you, eh?”

  I blushed as I stared at his so handsome profile. Tingle Tits? What a name! But he was right. It had made me blush and I felt another rush down in my loins as I imagined people screaming out that name at a race meeting. Of course, my stable partner, Little Cock also had a most shameful name so we would be a right pair, I thought ...

  We arrived in the early afternoon and the viscount was on hand to welcome us. “So, she decided to make it permanent, eh Sebastian?” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

  “She has, Milford, and I would like her trained as hard as Arthur knows how. Spare her nothing and make sure her bottom is well-striped every time she shows even the slightest departure from a full and total effort.

  “I also want her permanently depilated. Shaving eventually coarsens the skin and I want her pubic area perfectly soft as well as totally hairless. I shall come down most weekends if I may, to see her progress and I am hoping we may be able to enter her in a Stage One race very soon.”

  “If her progress last week is anything to go by, I’d suggest another week and she may well be ready for the next Stage One race meeting next Sunday. Ring me on Saturday and we can decide then, eh?”

  Sebastian turned on his heel then and, without even a little wave goodbye, was off with his cousin to the castle for a drink before returning to London.

  Arthur then took charge of me, returning me to Peter’s care and I was straight into it, returning after only a few hours absence from the stables to the rigours of its training regime.

  Arthur took Sebastian at his word and he worked me harder than the others. I suspect they were trying to break me, to force me to admit that I had made a mistake and that I now wanted to return to Sebastian’s arms and accept his offer to be his wife - now and forthwith. I didn’t. I was made of sterner stuff than that but my resolve was really fuelled by my craving to be a slave - and a pony-slave at that.

  But now they made it even harder for me. I knew Sebastian must have agreed or even designed this new humiliation but even then I relished it. That night, in the free period before lights out, I was brought out into the corridor and made to get down on all fours where the other seven ponies could all see me. Then Little Cock was brought out and ordered to ‘service’ me. I could see the distress on his handsome face but when they threatened him with a cane - and actually lashed his pert little buttocks with it a couple of times, he dropped down behind me and pushed his tiny weapon into me while laying his body along my back.

  But even this shame didn’t faze me. The sex was nothing like with Sebastian. Indeed, I hardly felt it for the boy’s cock was so small as to hardly penetrate my vagina but the shame of the act was wonderful! You are confused? So was I but by that time I had come to realise how much that shame and humiliation we were constantly subjected to in that place really turned me on and I am sure it was the same for all the others there. I suppose it must have been the same for the other ponies I had seen at that race meeting a week ago although Sebastian had told me none of them were actually full time slaves or ponies and all had jobs of one kind or another. We were different. We were there full time - or at least for as long as the scene satisfied our cravings for humiliation.

  I had now been put to service by another of the ponies - just as a mare would be in real life and the viscount and some of his friends had come down to watch - again just as they would with a real equine pony. The servicing of prize animals was always watched by the animal’s owners and they pretended to the same thing now, with me. Only Sebastian was absent and he later told me that while he had indeed hoped this might snap me out of it, he couldn’t bear to see Little Cock ‘raping’ me. It wasn’t really rape of course for I had tacitly consented to anything the
y wanted to do to me, but they pretended it was, just as they pretended I was being serviced for real.

  They had made sure that I was on the pill, of course, and for double measure, that I was not at that time of the month but even so, the event was quite macabre - and to me wonderfully shameful. Indeed, the only thing I actually enjoyed in a physical sense from it was the feel of Little Cock’s superb body on mine. I couldn’t feel his cock at all, it really was far too small for that but I certainly felt his beautiful muscles and his velvet soft skin on mine as he moved up and down my back during the ‘servicing’.

  He was just nineteen years old and in the full bloom of his youth - possibly the best age for any person as his skin was still that of an adolescent while his muscles, honed by years as a gymnast, were quite perfect - and I felt them all as he moved the front of his body up and down my back as I squatted down on all fours like a real equine pony being serviced.

  The local gentry - or those of them into human pony training and racing, stood around and commented to each other as to my - and Little Cock’s prowess in the sexual area and my blush deepened as I listed to their prurient remarks:

  “Excellent tits on the filly, Milford,” said one portly, red-faced gentleman.

  “But just look at her muscle tone,” said another.

  “The colt isn’t bad, either,” remarked a younger man, staring hotly down at Little Cock’s beautiful muscles as he continued trying to penetrate my vagina.

  “Really well named, though,” said a woman in the party. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a smaller penis!”

  “No,” said the portly squire, “might as well have him penetrate her rear passage, Milford, he’s never going to do any good with the other one ...”

  I glanced up at them as this exchange went on and noted, with horror, that the viscount agreed with his guest and nodded to Arthur who now knelt down beside Little Cock, whispering new instructions to him.

  Immediately, I felt his stiff little member poking at my anus and now he did indeed gain entry. Not that it hurt that much for his cock really was little in girth as well as length but I did feel it. What was bad was the idea of what he was doing. I had never been into anal sex - not with Sebastian and not with any of my previous lovers. It seemed horrible somehow and now that it was being ‘forced’ on me, I didn’t change my opinion.

  It was horrible - and then I felt Little Cock come - right inside my rectum. It was only a small offering for his balls were as tiny as the rest of his genitals. I wondered if he lacked testosterone or some other male hormone and this had restricted his growth but then, as I looked at the rest of his so perfect body I knew this couldn’t be the case. It must just have been his genes, I thought.

  It was over after that and he was pulled up and off me and tethered in his stall, as was I, after which the gentry left and we were alone again. There was no male strutting now, though. I suppose Little Cock was ashamed of what he had done to me and didn’t want to face me - and so I stood up, moved as close to him as my tether permitted and began to flaunt my body at him, partly to tell him I wasn’t holding him responsible for what had just happened but also because I adored his body and wanted to see him pose and strut before I lay down in the straw to sleep.

  He grinned as he watched me and then stood up and copied my actions, his lovely little cock again rampant as he flexed his beautiful arm muscles and rippled his chest and belly for my pleasure.

  And so from the next day, Tuesday, right through to Sunday, Arthur had Peter work me extra hard. They concentrated on me both in the gym and on the track, whipping my back and bottom on my circuits around the tanbark and exhorting me to harder and harder efforts in the gym.

  On the last couple of days, they also had me wear the harness that hid my sexual organs from view, just to get me used to it, they said. And so on those days, I had on the attachment to the harness belt that concealed my sexual organs, although my breasts and bottom cheeks were still bare, of course.

  I had worked hard all that week, as I had the previous one and I knew Arthur was pleased with my progress. Accordingly, he informed me on the Saturday that I was indeed to be entered into the next meeting of the human pony club, this one to be held at an estate some hour distant.

  I suddenly remembered the means of transporting the ponies. The tiny trailers like those used to transport racing dogs with the frames inside them to keep us up on all fours throughout the journey. My heart raced and my libido jumped a mile as I imagine the shame of being pushed into one of these and then brought out in front of all Sebastian’s friends at the other end.

  You think this craving I had for shame and humiliation weird? So do I but I can’t explain it. It must have been there all along, latent, until exploded into the light of day when Sebastian introduced me to this bizarre cult of human pony racing and from that moment on it demanded I assuage the fantastic lusts that had begun to attack me as we had driven home that afternoon.

  And these lusts were still fuelling a libido that was getting more demanding by the minute. Take the so-called servicing of me by Little Cock. A week ago, if anyone had said I would willingly get down on my hands and knees to be raped by another man while a few dozen other men and women stood around and watched, some of them aristocrats, the remainder trainers and grooms, I would have been outraged. Would you believe I even harboured secret thoughts about being used as a vehicle to carry slave progeny for my ‘owner’ to take and train as another human pony, down the track, as it were?

  Now I was facing being transported in one of the little dog caravans and then harnessed in full view of the human pony racing aficionados to race around a secret tanbark track while men and women bet on me - and I was thrilled to the core at it.

  It was as shameful as I had expected. Sebastian was on hand to watch me loaded into the little caravan and I had to crawl in, keeping the longitudinal beam under my breasts and belly, reach down over the transverse bar near the front and move forward until my thighs came up to the other cross bar a foot or so behind the front one. I couldn’t now move much but in the compartment next to me I heard them loading Little Cock who was going to compete in the races as well. We had been muzzled, of course. Alone in the trailer, we could have talked to one another as we sped along the roads to the secret location and that was not allowed.

  I could guess we had arrived when I felt the trailer bumping over the uneven ground where the cars were parked and then the door behind me was opened and I was directed by Peter to come out and stand up. Once more the shame flooded in on me as I looked around at all the strangers all staring at my nakedness but Peter soon had me in one of the rubber suits that would keep me warm until my race while Little Cock was taken to be harnessed straight away as his race was first.

  The rubber suit hid very little but in the English climate it was necessary. I watched as they accoutred Little Cock in the harness that really only hid his tiny genitals and then they were in the saddling paddock and then lined up for the race.

  He did very well. He was the smallest of all the competitors but he quickly took the lead and he held it right throughout. He was apparently quite well known for I heard them calling out his name as the race progressed.

  Sebastian didn’t stand with me. I was held in a small yard against the inside fence of the track together with the other ponies while he was mingling with his friends on the outside. I looked across at him from time to time but he totally ignored me. That was proper of course. I was, to all intents and purposes, now nothing more than a pony, not even human, and they were all very careful to maintain this fiction on these days.

  Mine was the third race - the first after lunch and while he and his friends ate the tantalisingly aromatic barbecue, I was taken by Peter and stripped naked, after which he put on my harness and took me to the saddling paddock where I was attached to my gig. The boy who was to be my rider looked so young but I knew appea
rances could be deceptive. He held his whip at the ready though and gave me a little wave as I was locked to his gig.

  We were lined up and now my heart was going hammer and tongs. Would I be successful? Was my training enough? Did I have the stamina and the will to win?

  Down came the flag and we were off. I was second to the rail and my jockey had intimated to me that he wanted me to get over to it as soon as I could. I had no reins, remember. That came only with the third stage of human pony racing and so he had to call out his instructions. I thought it odd, really. If we were ponies, why not harness us properly? But this was the way they operated and I was only a newcomer - ours not to reason why ...

  Anyway, I leapt ahead, immediately exhilarated by the race and the challenge - the competitive spirit in me at once coming to the fore and I was able to pass my neighbour fairly quickly and move straight over to the rail, obviously a position of advantage. I wasn’t allowed to look around, of course, but I could swivel my eyes and I kept watch for any of the other five ponies coming up on my outside.

  They didn’t. It seemed I had put on so good a pace from the beginning they were way behind but I didn’t know that - one of the reasons we were not allowed to look sideways or behind us during a race or even at training. And so both Little Cock and I were fortunate in winning our races, me for Sebastian of course, and Little Cock for his cousin, the viscount.

  After the race I was taken by Peter, stripped naked once more and rubbed down, standing in the same shallow tubs I had seen a fortnight earlier and now I saw my former employer, Sebastian’s father, standing, watching me quizzically, a tiny smile at the corners of his mouth as he noted my exhilaration, both at my win but also at the whole scene.

  “You seem to have fitted in very well, Tingle Tits,” he observed softly.