Pony Girl, Volume 1

by Mark Andrews

  It’s weird, I know, and anyone not into masochism or bondage and discipline - and particularly the human pony scene would find this account utterly bizarre; but for those who are into it, it is absolutely wonderful, no matter if you are an ‘owner’ of one or a number of human ponies - or one of them yourself.

  I knew that when the time came for me to quit actually being a pony, I would relish the owning and training of others of them just as much as I was at being one right now. But that time wasn’t yet. I had yet to train at and then compete in the Stage Three races and whilst I hadn’t yet had anything shoved up my rectum and certainly not the large dildo on the end of the poles in those gigs - and was more than a little afraid of it, I was also looking forward to that day with great anticipation.

  My affection for Muscles grew every day. I didn’t love him as I did Sebastian but it wasn’t far short. We became very good friends and I had a healthy respect for his mind as much as his so beautiful body, now enhanced by his so total castration.

  I have read of eunuchs employed in Eastern seraglios being castrated. I also knew that in many European choirs in earlier times, boys were routinely castrated to keep their high singing voices but I had never heard of a man having his penis as well as his testicles and scrotum removed. In Muscles’ case, this had been done and I thought he looked quite wonderful, especially as the wounds healed, the stitches were finally removed and the tiny scars faded until we couldn’t see anything, even when kneeling down in front of him and peering closely at his groin. The surgeon had been very skilful in sewing him back up again after the operation and now there was no evidence at all of what had once been there, his lower belly was quite flat (although, as I said earlier, the abdominal muscles now seemed more apparent than before, marching in an inverted, truncated triangle from under his chest, nearly down to the junction of his thighs.

  The hollow formed there by his thigh muscles and his belly was now even more a focal point for our eyes than when he had had his genitals intact for they were most unremarkable and he certainly looked vastly better without them - at least in my opinion; and that was echoed by everyone else who inspected him.

  And that was everyone who came to the estate, or at least those who knew about the secret stables. I think Muscles may well have been the first human gelding in the club but he certainly would not be the last. He looked so perfect without his genitals! From the duke down, everyone wanted to look him over, feel his velvety, tawny skin, grip his muscles - and of course stroke their hands down his chest, his belly and his groin, to ooh and ah over how perfect he was.

  Because my stall was opposite his, I heard their remarks as they caressed his body. All agreed he was now so much better than he had been. Many wanted to emulate him with one or more of their own colts. One even brought his boy along to see Muscles in the flesh.

  It seemed this boy had heard of what Muscles had pleaded for and although his own genital organs were quite respectable, he too wanted them removed, the one difference was that his owner fully intended to preserve them (with the penis fully erect) and mount them in a large acrylic block to be mounted in a glass-fronted cupboard in the wall of his stall.

  The boy, whose pony name was Cheeky Boy, was quite ecstatic as he was permitted to feel down the flesh of his counterpart and pleaded with his owner, Madeline, the same horsy woman who ‘owned’ the black boy I had seen on my first day at the human pony races, to be permitted to have his own genitals surgically removed.

  Madeline grinned. “Then it shall be done, Cheeky Boy. As I mentioned to you, I have arranged to have them stuffed and preserved in an acrylic block so that you will see them, fully erect of course, all the time you are in your stall ...”

  He was a very handsome lad, this Cheeky Boy, with wavy brown hair and blue eyes and a skin as perfect as you could wish - and with muscles equally as good as any of the slaves in our stable.

  I heard later that he had been castrated that week and was just as pleased about it as Muscles now was.

  I used to smile as I watched all the men and women members of the club come and ask to see him displayed so they could feel and fondle his body and then go and watch him perform on the track or in the gym (depending what time of day they arrived).

  He had said he was going to improve after the operation and he did. I have no idea if it had anything to do with the improvement, but then I don’t really know why equine horses are gelded either. Does it allow them to concentrate their energies more to their racing ability rather than have some diverted into sex? I don’t know. Whatever the reason, Muscles certainly got stronger and faster and for his size, could beat anyone around. Indeed, even Black Beauty, the fastest of all of us in the viscount’s stable was hard pressed to keep ahead of the boy.

  In the normal course of events, we were not used sexually. At least not that I’m aware. I was different, of course. Sebastian was both my lover and fiancée as well as my ‘owner’ and neither of us thought there was anything wrong with him having me up to the castle on Saturdays so that I could revert to being a human for an hour or two but with the others, being a pony was very real to them as well as to their owners and trainers and bestiality was a no-no.

  Of course there were opportunities. On occasions, fairly rare ones, I must admit, a pony, male or female, might be summonsed up to the castle to be shown, perhaps to the participants in a club dinner or some such. The boys and girls who came back from such events were strangely silent about them. Some even looked embarrassed, particularly if their partner asked how they had got on and I therefore had a suspicion that perhaps more went on at these dinners than just a simple showing off of their naked bodies.

  They were always single events, however. Not once was more than one summoned on the same occasion so there was no way of knowing. I asked Sebastian about it one Saturday but he just smiled and touched my lips in that funny way he had of shushing me when he didn’t want to answer.

  Nevertheless, in the stables, while the grooms and trainers were constantly feeling us - and even masturbating us from time to time, actual sex with them wasn’t on. There were, of course, repeats of Little Cock’s (so-called) servicing of my body with his puny penis. Not too often for these were special events, just as they would be in real life in a real stables but all the club members who could get to one came along and watched as the female pony was ordered down onto her hands and knees and the boy chosen to mount her had to do so from behind, ramming his erect cock into her vagina and going at in doggy-fashion to simulate the real thing.

  So popular were these events that the viscount eventually had an addition built on to our building to house a ‘servicing frame’ on a circular stage that had four rows of tiered seats right around it. The frame consisted of a sort of pillory set low down on the floor into which the girl’s neck and wrists were locked, and another set three feet behind that into which her ankles, pulled out very wide, were also locked. This arrangement left her with her upper body and head down near the floor, her knees (spread wide) on it, and her bottom, thus forced up into the air, in a perfect position for the male to rape her from behind.

  I know all this because I was one of the first to be thus displayed.

  You may be wondering how Lord de Veere had the building constructed with us resident? It was easy. His estates were so vast and the circle of his employees who assisted in the pony club so wide, that it was an easy matter to find enough carpenters and bricklayers, etc, to perform the work while we went about our normal training.

  Nevertheless, it was a new form of humiliation for me - and, as usual, one I gloried in. Once the building was completed and furnished according to the viscount’s exacting standards, he invited the club members and their trainers to come along and watch the pony girl Tingle Tits to be ‘serviced’.

  Once they were all assembled and seated in the plush leather seats on the four tiers, I was led in, tethered by bridle and leadi
ng rein of course, and up onto the stage. My clit ring was removed and, with some ceremony, handed to Sebastian as my owner, and then I was pushed down onto my knees and my upper body pushed further down towards the three waiting holes.

  On these occasions, they didn’t speak to us. We were ponies - we shouldn’t be able to understand them! Peter locked the top board of the pillory down over my wrists and neck and then came around behind me, pulling my left ankle out wide and locking it into the wooden device, then moved across to the other side, and dragging my other ankle wide, did the same with that one.

  My ankles were now a good three feet or more apart and with my knees up near my breasts, my bottom was poking straight up into the air. Sebastian had told me I was going to be the first filly to be serviced in the new theatre but he hadn’t told me who was going to be my partner. Of course it couldn’t be Muscles now. He was a gelding and lacked the necessary equipment to perform the deed. I asked Sebastian of course, but he just smiled and shook his head.

  I think the anticipation of not knowing who my partner was going to be was another thrill in the coming scene however and now, as they set the turntable on the round stage turning, I peered around, wondering who my stallion was going to be.

  When I saw him striding down the little passageway between the tiered seats, I gurgled with pleasure. It was Black Beauty! You may remember I had always had a hankering for his superb body, well now I was going to actually feel it and far from it being a repeat of my partner’s attempts to penetrate me, I could now see Black Beauty’s magnificent weapon, already in full erection, swinging from side to side as he strode towards the stage and I knew it was going to enter me very deeply.

  The viscount introduced him (which was unnecessary as he was well known to all the club members) and then ordered him to stand on the revolving turntable next to my head and show off his virile body to them all.

  I squatted down there, humiliated (but delighting in it) as he stood there, flexing his magnificent muscles to them all, a small grin on his handsome face ... I couldn’t see his face all that well but I could see most of the rest of his body and already I felt my juices moving as I stared up at his chocolate brown flesh, its rippling muscles causing it to scintillate under the lights trained down onto the stage.

  Was I being disloyal to Sebastian in my lust for Black Beauty’s body? Of course not. It was he who had ordered this scene and who had volunteered my body to his cousin for the first showing. Why shouldn’t I get pleasure out of perhaps the most beautiful male body in England (after Sebastian himself, of course).

  Then it was time and the tall and so muscular black boy moved out of my sight, behind me. I felt him squatting down over my bottom - and then it was inside me - his huge prick reaming out my now very well lubricated tunnel while his so muscly belly laid down over my lower back and his broad chest grazed my upper back.

  He neighed (out loud) and then whispered to me that he had wanted me ever since my arrival in the stables. I didn’t reply (except for a whinny of pleasure). His mouth was down by my ear and he could get away with the sin of talking; I would not be so lucky but I felt a rush of pleasure - and excitement - as he began to ‘rape’ me.

  It was anything but rape, of course. If I couldn’t have Sebastian’s body making love to me, then Black Beauty was a very good substitute - and he proved that over the next hour or so. He was obviously either a naturally skilful lover or had been trained by Arthur Scott and/or his men to be so. He brought me to so many orgasms I lost count of them but each time he was ready to ejaculate himself, he withdrew from me and standing erect - with his cock pointing right up in the air, he jetted a massive series of throbbing spurts from his huge weapon, all over my back and bottom cheeks.

  And then, without even slackening his cock, he was at it again, driving me silly with his loving, his fingers straying all over my so obscenely arranged body but particularly my breasts, his mouth biting, sucking and kissing me wherever he could reach - and his loins slamming his cock hard into and out of my quim as strongly the last minute as it had been from the very beginning.

  There was a stunned silence in the audience. The new, beautifully appointed room with its plush tiered seats; the slowly revolving turntable giving everyone an equal view of the scene; and, I have to say it, the splendour of my and Black Beauty’s superb bodies in the act of procreation (well, simulated anyway), all contributed to an event that was talked about for years afterwards, long after both Black Beauty and I were gone from the scene.

  Even when it was over, and he stood there, sheepish now as the turntable carried the pair of us round and round, none of the audience rose. All wanted to stay and watch me as I knelt down in that obscene position and Black Beauty as he stood beside me, his huge cock slack now but still a wonder to behold, his body gleaming with his sweat and unsure what he was supposed to do.

  Arthur eventually took charge, handing him over to his groom and releasing me from my restraints so that Peter could return me to my stall. And there I sank down into the straw, curled up and went to sleep, now dreaming of the magnificent stallion who had just serviced me.

  Chapter 6

  Not all the club members were English aristocrats, nor even English for that matter. I noticed an Arab present at some meetings as well as a very handsome black man and some Orientals. I asked Sebastian who they were and he told me the Arab was a diplomat of a very high rank as was one of the Orientals. The black was a Ghanaian prince while the rest were either very rich men or aristocrats in their own countries - but they all had one thing in common - a love of and delight in human pony racing. He also told me that this sport had been well established for centuries in the Arab and other Moslem countries around the eastern and southern periphery of the Mediterranean Sea and from there it had spread to some of the more southerly African nations as well.

  I stared at him. “You mean they have been racing humans for all those years?”

  He grinned. “Only Christians. Islam forbids the enslaving of true believers and all their human ponies were - and are - slaves.”

  “You mean they still have slaves - real slaves over there?” I was appalled. I thought slavery - real slavery, not what we were playing at - had been eradicated decades ago.

  “Oh yes,” he said airily. “It’s under wraps of course but very high officials in some of their governments almost openly keep slaves - and not only in their harems, either.”

  “But why hasn’t it come out then?”

  “It doesn’t suit our government and those of our friends and allies, to upset Middle East sensibilities and so, as long as they keep it reasonably quiet, everyone pretends it doesn’t exist.”

  “Good Heavens!” I shivered as I thought of myself as a real slave ... All right, I thought of myself in the viscount’s secret stable to be a slave, but I also knew that at a single nod from me, it would all be over and I could return to a normal life. What if I had no choice and was facing a lifetime as a slave? Ugh! I knew I would feel really dreadful.

  But that wasn’t the case and so I forgot all about the foreign members of the Human Pony Racing Club and fell into Sebastian’s arms, kissing him passionately until he pushed me away, his face puzzled at my new ardour.

  “It’s just I love you so much, Sebastian,” I said by way of explanation.

  He laughed. “I’d never have known ...”

  I had been there over four months by now and I was still very much into the thrill of the whole scene. I had won more races but I was still striving to be faster and stronger, putting every last effort into my training. Of course I had a background in this from my athletics career - this was just a different (and vastly more exciting) way of competing in foot races.

  And it was so exciting. Now that the summer was upon us, all of us ponies were kept stark naked except when actually racing and this made the crowds around us as we waited in the paddock or were being
harnessed for or bathed after a race, even bigger for although the rubber suits were made of very thin latex that showed off our shape very well, we were still not naked - and now we were. Every single part of our bodies including our breasts and our universally naked mounds and vaginas (and the boys’ genitals) were fully on show.

  I could hardly credit that I had stumbled onto such a thing. It just showed that Sebastian and me were like spirits for although he had been brought up to the fetish of human pony racing, he was still a very keen aficionado of the sport - and I now knew I was, too. I still wanted more as a pony myself but by now I was also looking forward to the time afterwards when I would marry Sebastian and settle down in our own estate to train our own stable of human ponies.

  In this regard I had already decided (and had asked Sebastian) to invite Muscles to be our first pony. I was sure Lord de Veere would be happy to agree and the idea of training the handsome Thai boy for a while - and then making him our own trainer - had a lot of appeal. Sebastian agreed and had mentioned it to his cousin while I had, very tentatively, also wondered to the boy if he would be interested.

  His face had lit up as he understood what I was offering. “You mean you are going to marry him in a few months - and then want me to come as your pony - and later become a trainer for your other ponies?”

  “No, Muscles. We want you to become our head trainer. For your size, you are the fastest pony in England and even Black Beauty, who is the fastest, has trouble keeping you at bay. We think you’ve got what it takes to be the best and we think you will be able to pass it on to others.”

  He was silent for a while and I smiled as I watched the emotions of surprise, joy, thanks and more joy pass in quick succession over his face. “Yes. Oh yes, Tingle Tits. I would be honoured to serve your and your master in both capacities - as long as his lordship doesn’t mind, of course ...”