Yet Another Ponygirl Story
by Jennifer Harrison
"I’ve found this brilliant place for us to go on holiday this summer!" Conchita said with her customary enthusiasm, and I felt that familiar mixture of fear, trepidation, excitement and anticipation. She was always coming up with ‘bright ideas’ and, somewhere along the line, they usually involved me getting into trouble. I gave a sigh and raised an eyebrow, wondering what she had come up with this time.
Conchita had been my best friend throughout school, since we had both arrived on the same day at the rather exclusive girls’ boarding school as thirteen-year-olds. I was sick with nerves and on the verge of crying my eyes out. My father was an officer in the British Army which paid for me to go to boarding school in England while he and my mother were posted around the world. This was great, except that I didn't come from money like all the other girls there, my upbringing had been relatively impoverished by comparison, and I felt out of place, and out of my league. I was sure that I was destined to become the butt of their jokes, and the target of their bullying.
Conchita, by contrast, was the exact opposite. She was bright, bubbly, and completely at home in the privileged atmosphere of the school. She was from Mexico, and she told everybody that her father was a very rich industrialist, although the rumour quickly spread around the school that he was actually a drug lord, and she made very little effort to dissuade people of this. So, she was foreign, exotic, very pretty, and, with her murky background, potentially dangerous. Of course she was immediately the leader of the cool gang, and she loved it. I don't know why, maybe she felt sorry for me, but she took me under her wing, and into her protection, and we were firm friends from that day on.
Our plan on leaving school was to get in a bit of R&R, probably lazing on a beach somewhere, then spend a few months working, doing bar work or waitressing, that kind of thing, earning enough money to fund a few months of travelling around the world, before we went off to university. At least, that was the plan until Conchita came up with a better idea.
"Go on then," I said with an air of resignation, entirely faked to disguise my extremely piqued level of interest, "what's your latest brilliant idea?"
"Hey, less of your cheek, Missy," she retorted, wagging her finger at me, "that kind of insubordination can get a girl a good spanking!"
"Yes, Mistress!" We sometimes joked around that we were a dominant-submissive couple. At least, I think we were joking.
"You remember that time you told me about your little ponygirl fetish?" she went on, "well, I found a place we can indulge your dirty little fantasy!" I simultaneously blushed and groaned at the memory of that embarrassing night several months previously, the one where we had spent hours drinking and schlepping around the seedier parts of the Internet, encountering and exploring many strange websites showing all manner of perversions. I'd hoped she'd forgotten, but I should have known better - she never forgot anything, certainly not anything which could embarrass me as much as that!
"Chi!" I pleaded, "I told you, that was just a joke to wind you up!" I could feel my cheeks burning with shame.
"I know you better than that, Sarah," she smirked, "you were so hot, I thought you were going to orgasm right in front of me! I bet you've been secretly fanning the flames of that desire since, haven't you?"
"I never!" I protested, but I knew I was going even more red as she nailed it.
"You’re a rotten liar," she said triumphantly, "so stop trying to deny it and listen to what I have to say." Glumly, I put my most sullen look on my face and shut my mouth, knowing that I was already beaten.
"That's better, my slutty little friend," she said, reaching forward and stroking my blazing cheek like I was her pet or something, "I found this website for a place in Devon which does all sorts of things for girls like you who’re into this stuff – weekends, training courses, shows, events, get-togethers. It sounds right up your street!"
Reluctantly, I agreed to take a look. I didn't want to encourage Conchita, but when she was in this kind of mood - excited and enthusiastic - it was almost impossible to refuse her.
The organisation, called ‘Specialist Pony Training Stables’, sounded very professional, while phrases like "all-female staff, fully trained and experienced in handling ponygirls", "focused on your safety and enjoyment", "5-star accommodation and Michelin-starred food" provided reassurance. I found that the phrase "handling ponygirls", along with the accompanying photographs, was making me very interested.
"It sounds very expensive," I said doubtfully.
"Don't worry," Conchita said breezily, "my dad doesn't know it yet, but he'll be paying for it out of my allowance."
"I don't know," I said nervously, excited but also afraid of the unknown, "Will you do it with me?"
"I wouldn't miss it for the world!" she exclaimed with a broad grin, obviously feeling triumphant that I had caved. "Let's fill in the application details right now!"
And that's what we did, right there, right then - I think Conchita wanted to get me signed up before any doubts or second thoughts set in. She pulled up the application page on the website, and I was rather overwhelmed by the list of questions. It started with a worrying message:
WARNING: you must not apply to Specialist Pony Training Stables if you suffer from any of the following conditions - asthma, hayfever, difficulty with breathing, heart conditions, high blood pressure, or if you have undergone in-patient treatment in the past 12 months, are currently being treated for a medical condition, or are on any prescribed medication. Failure to declare any pre-existing medical condition to SPTS will invalidate your insurance and SPTS will not be liable for any incident related to such a condition.
NOTE: All participants must be over the age of 18 on the first day of their visit.
I have read the above notices and declare that I am over 18 and do not suffer from any pre-existing medical condition [ ]
"It's just boilerplate," Conchita said dismissively, "just tick it and let's get on with it." Rather less enthusiastic than I had been only moments before, I put an tick in the box and read on. The next set of questions were fairly straightforward and I quickly filled them in:
Date of Application: [03/04/2015]
Name: [Sarah Johnson]
Date of Birth: [09/06/1997]
Height:  feet  inches / [ ] metres
Bra Size: [32D]
Waist:  inches
Hips:  inches
Shoe Size: UK  EUR [ ] US [ ]
Hair Colour: [blonde]
I was, as always, embarrassed by entering my vital statistics because I knew that anyone reading them would immediately do the calculation "blonde + big boobs = bimbo". I had been quite a normal, nondescript little girl until puberty kicked in, and then my body seemed to go crazy, giving me the perfect physique for a dumb nymphomaniac. So many people had said to me ‘oh, you should go into modelling’ - by which they meant nude, glamour or pornography - as if that were the pinnacle of female ambition. The fact that I was predicted to get straight A’s in my A levels and planned to go to a good university to do a degree in Philosophy made no difference to the guys who regularly letched and leered at me, barely able to lift their eyes from my tits and ass to actually look me in the eye.
"When are we going to go?" I asked as I looked at the next question.
"Right after school’s finished," Conchita replied instantly, "strike while the iron’s hot!"
"How long for? I didn't see the options, or the prices," I said, chewing my lip doubtfully, "I don't think-"
"No, honey, I do the thinking, you just look pretty! We'll go for two weeks, from the 14th of July."
"Two weeks?!" I exclaimed in astonishment, "what if we don't like it? What if it's too weird? What if-"
"Shhhh!" Conchita chided, pressing a finger against my lips, "I'm paying, so I make the rules. Go on, fill it in!"
Preferred Date of Visit: [14/07/2015] to [28/07/2015]
Service Level: Full [ ] Session [ ]
Tack: Full [ ] Intermediate [ ] Beginners/Trial [ ]
Dress: None [ ] Swimwear [ ] Full Bodysuit [ ] Bodysuit+Hood [ ]
"I've got no idea what those questions even mean!" I wailed, not liking the sound of any of them.
"Don't worry, hun, I've checked it out, just cross the first box on each."
"But, ‘Service Level’, what does that mean?! ‘Tack’? Shouldn't we be going for ‘Beginners’? And ‘Dress’, does that mean we have to be naked?! I don't-"
"Will you just shut up and trust me!" Conchita barked rather angrily, this time covering my whole mouth with her hand, "this is your one chance to experience this - let's go for the Max!" Very reluctantly, and with severe misgivings, I did as she ordered.
"I don't know how to answer this one - ‘Preferred Pony Name’. What you think?"
"Well," Conchita said thoughtfully, "I think you should draw attention to your best assets."
"What, you think I should be called ‘Big Jugs’ or something?!" I asked wryly, only half-joking.
"No," she replied patiently, "they may be your most obvious assets, but not your best. I really like your baby blue eyes. I think you should be called ‘Bright Eyed Beauty’."
"I think we should leave the ‘Beauty’ to the eye of the beholder, I'll just go with ‘Bright Eyes’," I said, writing it down. "There, all done. Satisfied?"
"Well done, my soon-to-be little pony, now run along and play with yourself while I do mine and fill in the payment details and such." With that, she shooed me out of the room and I went back to my own bedroom, wondering what I had just committed myself to.
I didn't actually get much time to think about it over the next term because it was just so busy. First there was my eighteenth birthday, which was rather spoiled by all of the exam revision I was doing. Then there were the exams themselves, which seemed to go on forever and take all of my energy. And then, at the end of term, there was the Leavers’ Ball. All the girls in the final year always vote for who should be Queen of the Ball and, to my total astonishment, I was chosen. I'm pretty sure Conchita had somehow organised it that way, because the tradition was that the week before the Ball, the girls would go out to the nightclubs in the nearby city, and there was always some hazing of the elected Queen, usually involving too much alcohol and some risque photographs.
It was generally agreed later, especially by the staff, that on this occasion, things had gone a little too far - no, actually, make that a lot too far! I don't know at which point I lost my dress, but I do vaguely remember a lot of sexy, semi-naked dancing, plus throwing up in the gutter, and then trying to snog a policeman as he and his colleague ‘helped’ us back to the minibus. Everything after that point is pretty much a blank until I woke up in bright sunlight to find that I had been stripped naked and handcuffed to the Founder’s statue in front of the school. As if that wasn't bad enough, the entire senior staff of the school, led by the Headmistress, were standing in front of me, staring in horror at their upcoming Queen. And as if that wasn't bad enough either, they had to get a locksmith - a male locksmith, at that - to come and cut me free. Talk about embarrassing!
Conchita seemed to become more and more controlling all week. She told me that she would be choosing my formal evening dress for the Ball, and she wouldn't let me see it before the big night, despite my desperate pleading. When it was finally revealed, it was everything I had feared and, to be honest, fully expected. It was red, body-hugging and backless, with spaghetti shoulder straps supporting a deep cleavage, preventing me from wearing any kind of bra, and it was so low-cut at the back that I was showing a little cleavage there too, forcing me to wear a thong so that there were no panty lines. To compliment this was a pair of strappy red high heels, and when I put them on, it took me all my effort not to fall off them again and sprain an ankle. They were taller than any I'd ever worn before, and I had to practice just standing up in them, never mind walking!
The Ball was fabulous and, I have to admit it, the dress was a spectacular success. Our school was twinned with a boys’ boarding school, and their final year pupils were always invited, bringing their own ‘King of the Ball’, who would escort and dance with the Queen. He was very attractive in his tuxedo, and had enough class and sophistication to not drool when we started the first dance. Normally, once the formalities have been completed, the girls and boys tend to gravitate back to their own groups, but it didn't happen that night, if only because they were taking their lead from their King and Queen who were, apparently, inseparable.
I'm not a great one for dancing myself, but Darren, my partner, was quite a good conversationalist, and every dance became a slow dance, regardless of the actual tempo of the music, as he pulled me in close, his hands creeping down until they were each firmly clasping a plump buttock through the sheer material.
"I have to admit," he said with a smile, "I'm not usually keen on dancing either, but then again I don't usually get to dance with such a beautiful girl as you. Do you fancy a breath of fresh air?"
We picked up a drink at the bar and went out into the gardens through the french windows. As we strolled down one of the paths, we held hands and smiled up at each other.
"Where do you think you’re going, Sarah? Darren?" I turned to see the PE mistress walking after us. We dropped each other's hand like we’d been electrocuted.
"Just taking the night air, Miss Pemberton," I replied innocently.
"I'm sure. Back inside, both of you!" Rather dejectedly, our unspoken plans spoiled, we walked back to the school hall, followed at a not-so-discrete distance by the suspicious teacher.
"Where have you been?" Conchita asked accusingly, grabbing my arm and leading me towards the toilets.
"We were just… anyway, Pembers stopped us before anything could happen. Just as I thought I might finally lose my virginity!"
"Get in there," she ordered, and I realised we were standing outside the loo. "Lock the door, take off your dress and that thong, and wait for my signal." Before I could protest, she had opened the door and shoved me inside. Unable to think for myself, and overcome with fears of being discovered, I blindly obeyed my orders and stripped. I waited for what felt like hours before there was a knock on the door.
"Open up, fair Queen," I heard Conchita say, "your Prince is here, ready to fuck your brains out!" With trembling fingers, I unlocked the door, let him stumble in, and locked it again, pressing my back against it. My heart was pounding and I was struggling for breath.
"Holy crap!" Darren breathed as he stared at my naked body, my breasts rising and falling in rhythm with my rapid gasps for air. He started scrabbling to unfasten his trousers but, as he pulled them down and I saw the tent in his boxer shorts, he suddenly stopped.
"Oh shit!" he whispered, "I don't have a condom! I never thought…"
"Don't worry," I said with a smile as I pointed to the sticking plaster on my arm, "I have a contraceptive patch - ironically they insist on it here. Now, do like the woman said and fuck my brains out!"
And, to be fair, he did a pretty good job of it. Admittedly, I didn't have anything to compare it to then, but I reckon he was a good fuck. I wrapped my legs around him as he held me up and dropped me onto his very stiff erection. I buried my face in his neck to try and stifle my cries as he pumped me mercilessly, until I reached a glorious climax, just before he came.
As I sat on the toilet, trying to get my breath back and get his spunk out of me, he straightened his attire.
"That was amazing, Sarah, thank you so much," he whispered, leaning down to kiss me whilst he copped a last feel of my breasts. "I'd better get back before they send out a search party!" With that, he was out of the door and I locked it behind him. I couldn't believe that I had lost my virginity in the toilets at a boarding school. What a cliché!
A week later, Conchita and I were on the train to Devon. It was the first time I had really had the opportunity to think about what we were doing, and why I was attracted in the first place to the idea of being a ponygirl. When I had first seen the pictures on the Internet, I had immediately thought how sexy the women looked in their regalia, and I began to wonder what it would be like to be dressed like that, and to be treated like that - part animal, part slave, all sex object. I started to do some research into the whole subject and found out that this kind of pet play was part of BDSM, something I had never come across and of which I had no experience at all. I learned that it was, at heart, about power exchange, about trusting someone enough to give up control to them.
I realised that I was going to be giving up control to complete strangers although, as I understood it, they were trained, professional strangers. It started to dawn on me that I didn't really know what I was getting into, and that I had no verifiable proof about this organisation. I was certainly very grateful that I wasn't here alone, and Conchita was clearly very surprised when I gave her a spontaneous hug.
"I hope we're not doing something incredibly stupid," I said nervously as the train pulled in to the station.
"Stop worrying, will you?" Conchita said with exasperation in her voice, "I've got everything under control. You're going to love this!"
We got off the train at Exeter and looked around for the woman who was due to meet us.
"Hello, Ms Johnson? Ms Alvarez? I'm Diana, and will be taking you to the hotel today." The woman, in her early thirties, certainly looked the part, wearing tan jodhpurs, black riding boots, a white blouse and a navy jacket. We followed her to the car park, where she indicated for us to climb into the back seat of a BMW.
"We like to keep the location of our facility secret," she said as she turned around in the driver’s seat, "we don't want to be troubled by nosy reporters. So I'm going to have to hold onto your mobile phones and ask you to wear these." She handed a pair of sunglasses to each of us. I took out my phone but looked at her questioningly.
"Most mobiles have GPS," she explained with a smile, "can't be too careful." Conchita shrugged and handed over her phone, and I followed suit. When I put the wraparound glasses on, I realised that they had been blacked out so that we would not see any of the journey. Well, I thought, they are either extremely cautious or human traffickers leading us into a life of slavery. Trying to relax, I sank back in the seat as we moved off.
The journey took about half an hour, and passed in silence. When we finally stopped, we were allowed to take our glasses off and we found ourselves outside a very impressive hotel. Diana led us into the lobby whilst another woman in riding gear took our bags inside.
"Wow, this place looks amazing!" Conchita enthused as we looked around the plush surroundings. We approached the reception desk, where another woman, this one dressed rather more like a hotel employee, had us sign the register.
"If you'd like to come with me," Diana said, "I can show you around the stables and we'll fit you for your pony tack." As she led us back out of the hotel and down a path towards a large building, I could feel my excitement growing, knowing that my strange fantasy was about to come true. I beamed a nervous smile at my friend, who returned it with enthusiasm. We went inside, into what felt like a kind of anteroom with several doors leading off it. After a few moments, the girl who had taken our bags entered the room.
"Sarah, this is Chloe," Diana said, introducing the young girl, who smiled and shook my hand, "she will be your personal groom throughout your time with us, and will deal with all your needs, as well as leading you through our ponygirl training programme. If you would like to go with her, I will sort out Conchita."
Chloe beckoned for me to follow her through one of the doors and, with a nervous but excited look over my shoulder at Conchita, I went into the next room. Chloe closed the door and led me over to a desk, where we sat on either side, her looking at a computer screen. I looked around, noticing that it was a lot like a locker room at the gym.
"Okay, Sarah, I just need to check that we still have the right details from your application," the young woman said, "then we can do an inventory of your things, so nothing goes missing whilst you're here."
She read through all the questions I had answered before, having me confirm my answers. I found this a little weird, given that some of my answers had been cajoled out of me by Conchita, and I had to actively resist the temptation to change my responses to something I felt safer with. As we went through them, my feelings of nervousness, excitement and anticipation grew again as I tried to imagine what was about to happen.
Chloe then had me turn out my pockets so that she could note down everything I had brought - keys, credit card, cash, lipstick, and so on – and I also took off my watch, bangles and my gold necklace. She put everything into a clear plastic bag, which she then sealed and placed into a metal box which had a label stuck to it, reading ‘SARAH JOHNSON (Bright Eyes)’. I suddenly had the feeling that I was being admitted to prison!
"Very good," she smiled, "now I just need you to take your clothes off and put them in the box as well." I suppose I should have seen that coming, but it was still a surprise. After a moment's hesitation, I stood up and pulled my T-shirt off over my head, kicked off my shoes and pulled down my leggings.
Feeling my face flush with embarrassment, I picked up my clothes and folded them neatly before putting them into the metal box. I shot a glance at the woman on the other side of the table, probably only a few years older than me, and then unfastened my bra and added it to the pile, finally taking off my panties to leave myself naked. I watched as Chloe closed the box and locked it, taking it over to one of the lockers and returning with another box. This one had a label on it saying ‘BRIGHT EYES (Sarah Johnson)’, signifying, in my mind, that I was now making the transition from girl to ponygirl.
"We'll start with the boots," she said as she opened the box and took out the strangest pair of boots I had ever seen. "Just sit down and pull them on - they're surprisingly comfortable."
"How would you know?" I asked sceptically, examining the huge hoof-like soles, the lack of heel, and the shiny black leather uppers which would reach to my knees. I noticed that they even had what looked like authentic metal horseshoes on the bottom!
"Because I’ve worn them," she replied without rancour, "we spend a week training as ponygirls as part of our induction so that we fully understand what you are experiencing." I was surprised but greatly reassured by this, and pulled the boots on.
It was like wearing very high heels with platform soles - my toes went into the hoof part and my heel was left suspended in the air, but supported by the firm structure of the boot. Chloe laced them really tightly, and I gingerly stood up, fighting to keep my balance. After a few seconds, I risked taking a faltering step, then another, holding my arms out at my side to maintain my equilibrium.
I was actually rather astonished to find that the boots were not only comfortable but also relatively easy to walk in. The hoof sole splayed out so much on either side of my foot that there was little danger of falling off them and twisting an ankle and, even if I had, the boots were tight enough to leave virtually no sideways movement – it was like wearing a pair of ski boots. I spent several minutes walking up and down, getting my confidence. They were heavier than any footwear I had worn before, and I had to pick up my feet as I stepped forward, making me feel like I was walking in diving boots. When I put my hooved foot down, it clattered on the tiled floor in a very authentic imitation of a horse’s hoof, which I found strangely exciting.
"Well done, Sarah, it looks like you’ve got the hang of that pretty quickly. Let's sort out your other hooves now!" She took what looked like more boots from the box, but I could see that the hoof did not fit with the rest of the leather in the same way, and overall they were much shorter. These were obviously for my hands.
I held out my left arm and Chloe pushed the hoof over my hand. I had expected my fingers to be cramped inside this very strange glove, but I was perfectly free to stretch them out and move them around inside the stiff casing, although I knew they rendered my hands useless. The leather came up over my wrist about halfway up my forearm, and was fastened in place when she buckled a leather strap around my arm. She repeated this on my right hand, and I found myself looking down at two large brown hooves at the end of my arms and, beyond that, two more at the end of my legs. The glove-hooves were also surprisingly heavy as they were also shod with authentic iron horseshoes, and I found it difficult to hold my arms up for any length of time, it being much less tiring to leave them dangling at my sides.
"Your harness is next," Chloe said as she held up a mass of leather and brass before me. Once she had untangled it, she placed it over my head, leaving two straps across my shoulders, with the rest of the harness hanging down in front and back. The shoulder straps attached to two large brass rings which she fitted over my breasts, having to ease and manipulate them through the rings because, as I mentioned before, I have large breasts. She pulled the leather straps joined to the sides of the rings behind my back and buckled them together, attaching the shoulder straps so that it felt like I was wearing a leather and brass brassiere. The sensation was reinforced when I realised that small flaps of leather were attached to the bottom of the rings and were supporting my breasts, thrusting them forwards, on display.
Leather straps led down from the breast rings to a smaller brass ring which lay over my navel. This also had straps at the side which buckled together behind my back. A fifth strap hung down from the ring and ended in a metal buckle, obviously ready to accept a strap which I guessed would be added between my legs.
"Okay, Sarah," Chloe said calmly, "place your hooves on the table and bend over for me." I did as I was ordered, wondering what was coming next. My groom took what looked like a long, thin blonde wig from the box and held it up before me. After a few moments staring at it, it dawned on me that this was to be my ponytail and, when she turned it slightly, I understood just how literal that was. The hair was attached at one end to a phallic shape which, alarmingly, ended in a sphere about the size of a golf ball.
"Oh my God!" I breathed in horror, "you're not going to… put that inside me, are you?!"
"Don't worry," Chloe replied as she smothered the monster in lubricant, "it looks far worse than it feels. You'll get used to it soon enough." I felt her hand on the small of my back, then the cold touch of the slippery silicone between my buttocks, pressing against my anus. I closed my eyes and bit my lip, preparing for the worst.
If she had been right about the boots being more comfortable than they looked, I would definitely dispute her claims about the butt plug. I let out an anguished gasp as the ball forced my little brown flower to open and stretch way beyond anything I had ever experienced before. I was sure my skin was going to tear, and I couldn't suppress a howl of pain as she pressed it harder against me, forcing me wider, wider, and then - plop! It was inside me, and my sphincter closed gratefully around the much smaller diameter of the following shaft. The flanges of the plug pressed against the skin between my cheeks, leaving me feeling as though I was suffering the worst case of constipation ever.
"Good girl," Chloe said condescendingly, "now straighten up for me." As I did so – slowly, carefully, uncomfortably - she pulled a thin leather strap between my thighs and up over my bare pussy before attaching it loosely to the buckle below my waist. I felt her fingers on my pussy lips, parting them around the strap so that it lay along the soft flesh of my cleft, and I realised that the inside surface was uneven, it's strange bumps gently pressing against me although, curiously, I couldn't feel it squeezing my clitoris. After a few seconds and a bit of squirming, and I decided that there was another small brass ring in the strap, and my clitoris was poking through it!
The strap was gently pressing against me, that is, until she took hold of the end of it and yanked it as tight as she could before fastening the buckle. I let out another gasp as the strap simultaneously forced the butt plug deeper into my rectum and drove the ridged strap and the brass ring hard against my most sensitive flesh.
As I tried to come to terms with this intimate violation, Chloe attached leather straps around my upper arms, then bent my arm until my hoof-covered hand was by my shoulder. A small clip on the retaining strap of the glove attached to a D-ring on the strap around my bicep and, immediately, I had lost the use of my arms, pinned uselessly in place.
"Okay, time for the interesting part," the girl smiled, "the bridle." She picked up another tangle of leather and brass, smaller than the body harness, and brought it to the top of my head. She gathered my hair together into a ponytail and passed it through a ring in the top of this new harness. A wide leather strap went across my forehead, buckling tight behind and attaching the strap holding the ring around my hair so that it lay snugly over my scalp. More straps now came down either side of my face, and I found my field of vision restricted by leather panels at my temples - I was blinkered.
The straps ended in brass rings which lay against my cheeks, and were held firmly in place by straps which buckled at the nape of my neck and underneath my chin. Chloe reached into the box once more and turned back to me holding a metal rod with various attachments on it which I didn't understand at all.
"Open," she ordered, holding the device in front of my mouth. When I did so, she pushed it between my lips, deep into my mouth until I started to gag and choke as part of it touched the back of my tongue. The rod went right across my mouth, forcing my jaws open and my lips to stretch, while the attachments I had seen earlier hooked behind my teeth to hold it in place. Some kind of plate pressed down on my tongue, preventing me from lifting it or moving it around. I tried to force the bit out of my mouth, but Chloe held it in place until she had clipped each end on to the rings of the bridle, at which point it was firmly in place until she might decide to remove it.
"The most important rule of being a ponygirl is that ‘Ponies Don't Talk’," she said as she rummaged in the box once again, "that bit will obviously help you to remember that, but this will ensure that you’re not tempted." She was holding up a wide leather collar and, on the inside at the front, I noticed two vertical metal strips.
"These lie either side of your throat," she explained, "they detect the movement of the muscles in your esophagus and check for the movements involved in forming words. If a recognised pattern occurs, the collar will deliver a mild electric shock to… remind you." She fitted the collar around my neck and fastened it tightly in place, forcing my chin upwards. I could feel the metal strips against my skin, and also something sharp pressing into my neck on either side. I was alarmed, starting to panic that I had just been locked into a machine which would automatically - without feeling? without mercy? - punish me if I tried to speak. I managed to rein myself in, as it were, after a few moments - all I had to do was keep my mouth shut, which shouldn't be too difficult, it's not like I'm a big talker anyway.
"Okay, you're done," Chloe smiled, turning me around and leading me across the room to stand in front of a full-length mirror on the wall. "Welcome to the world, Bright Eyes!"
I was stunned. I looked like all those pictures I had drooled over on the Internet, and all I could think about was how sexy I was! The most impressive thing was the tail which, rather than hanging down limply between my legs, sprang upwards from between my buttocks and cascaded down and out, more like a rooster's tail than a pony’s. I couldn't wait to show Conchita, and to see how incredible she looked - her dark eyes, silky black hair and coffee-coloured skin would just look great against the leather and brass of the harness.
"Walk on!" Chloe commanded as she took hold of one of the rings on my bridle. I followed her to the door and back out into the anteroom we had been in earlier.
"Oh my God, Sarah, you look amazing!" I found that, because of the restriction of the collar around my neck, I had to turn my whole body towards the sound of the voice to see my friend. But I was astonished and confused to see that she wasn't dressed in her ponygirl outfit, but was still wearing the same clothes as earlier.
"Huh?" I grunted, a look of bafflement on my face as she walked up to me, smiling broadly as she stroked my cheek.
"What?" she laughed, "you didn't really expect me to let them do this to me as well, did you?! This is your fantasy, honey, not mine!"
"Chi! What the f-Aaaaaaayiiiieeeoowwwww!!" My protestations were cut short as I felt pain shooting through me from the collar, making my jaw clamp down convulsively on the metal bit. It didn't last long, but it felt like my head was about to explode, and I screwed up my face, staggering a little under the assault.
"Oops, sorry, I didn't mean to get you into trouble," Conchita said, clearly not remorseful at all, "I'll leave you to enjoy your training. I hear the siren call of a margarita waiting by the pool. Adios, sweetie, see you later!"
"Walk on!" A sharp tug on the bridle turned my head away so that my so-called ‘friend’ disappeared from my field of vision behind the blinkers and, as the bit dug sharply into the corner of my mouth, I stumbled after Chloe, unable to do anything but follow wherever she was leading me.
She opened the door and we stepped out into the bright afternoon sunshine. It appeared that I would be facing my ponygirl training alone…
As we walked out into the afternoon sun, Chloe leading holding my bridle, me clip-clopping along behind her, I tried to come to terms with what had just happened. The reason I was here, in these stables dressed as a ponygirl, was because of my friend Conchita, who had talked me into this crazy adventure, having discovered my interest in the fetish and persuaded me that we should explore it together. Except that we weren’t together - she had tricked me and now I was about to experience God knows what, on my own.
Although, as it turned out, I wasn't going to be all on my own.
"Time to meet your stablemates," Chloe said as we walked out into a grassy field. I could hear movement around us but, because of the blinkers, I could only see what was directly in front of me as we moved forward. She brought me to a stop, holding my bridle firmly, not allowing me to turn my head to look around. I saw another young woman in riding gear walking into view a few yards away. She was holding a rope, leading…
"Bright Eyes, this is Scarlett Sunset," my trainer said and there, standing before me, was another woman dressed exactly like me! She was about my age, maybe a year or two older, with red hair and pale skin. She turned and, when she saw me, her green eyes crinkled and her mouth, already stretched by the bit between their teeth, widened in a smile of greeting. I smiled back as best I could, amused when she waggled her hips and her long ginger tail swished from side to side. We looked at each other in wonderment at what we were doing, and what we were allowing them to do to us. Her groom pulled on the rope and led Scarlett away, out of my sight.
"This is Scheherazade," Chloe said in introduction as another groom led her charge in front of me. If it hadn't been for the bridle and its strap under my chin, I think my jaw would have dropped open in astonishment at the incredible sight now before me. This ponygirl was magnificent - she was in her mid-twenties, tall, black, and with an athletic body, muscular arms and thighs, firm buttocks and a flat six-pack of a stomach. Her harness and bridle were made of white leather, which contrasted wonderfully against her ebony skin. Her breasts bulged through the brass rings, and her large, prominent nipples were pierced with beautiful gold hoops. She seemed to me to be the most beautiful woman - the most beautiful creature! - I had ever seen.
She tossed back her head and made a noise - "Neeeyyaaayy!" - which sounded remarkably like the whinny of a real horse, while she pawed the ground with her hoof. Her trainer gave the command "Walk on", and she obeyed instantly, moving along with a sinuous elegance, making me want to be as graceful as her.
"And this is Belle," Chloe said as the third woman was presented, and I could instantly see that she was different. She was older, probably in her mid-thirties, although still fit and attractive, but the startling difference was that she was not naked - underneath the leather harness, she was wearing a white bikini. Somehow, it looked incongruous, out of place, wrong, even though I remembered that this was one of the dress options. It seemed a bit cowardly, given that the rest of us were in the buff. But each to their own, I suppose.
I began to notice other differences as well. Her bridle didn't include blinkers, and the bit between their teeth was made of black rubber rather than metal. I also noticed that she wasn't wearing the stiff, high shock-collar, so presumably was not prevented from speaking. She gave me a relaxed smile before being moved on by her handler.
Chloe now clipped a rope to one of the rings of my bridle and led me forward, so that we were following the others in line. I looked at Belle in front of me, at her bikini-covered bum, and noticed that her tail was attached to the harness rather than to her. I could see that the harness strap was giving her a major wedgie, but I was sure that it was far less uncomfortable than the plug currently lodged in my butt!
I was brought to a halt and I watched as the other ponygirls also stopped and their handlers walked away from them until the rope between them, about ten feet long, was taught. They then reached down and picked up what I realised was a long whip, manoeuvring it so that the end lay against their charge’s back. I knew that Chloe was doing the same when I felt the touch of the whip against my shoulder blades, with the rest of it trailing down my back, tickling my buttocks.
"Walk on, Bright Eyes." As the whip prompted me with a light tap, I began to walk around in the circle described by the rope, watching as the others did the same. Around and around I walked, a little tentatively at first but quickly gaining confidence in my ability to manage the hoof-boots, but receiving the occasional slap of the whip against my behind if my pace slackened. It wasn't painful, but it definitely got my attention and made me concentrate harder.
"Step!" The new command confused me initially, but was soon clarified. "Get those knees up! Come on, higher! That's it! Good girl! Step! Step!" Under the prompting of the whip, I raised my knee on each step until my thigh was parallel with the ground and, in this vaguely goose-stepping way, I completed another ten circuits at the end of the training lariat.
"Prance!" I had no idea what this meant, but didn't have a good feeling about it, one which only got worse as things became clear. "Step and… Jump! Step and… Jump! Come on, pony, Jump!" The whip flicked painfully against the back of my standing leg as I was forced to leap from one foot - hoof - to the other until I was gasping for breath, perspiration breaking out across my brow. My breasts bounced alarmingly as I pranced, but the little leather platforms beneath them prevented them hurting too much.
Eventually I was allowed to stop, and I stood there, panting, feeling the ache in my thighs and tightness in my stomach muscles. Chloe walked over to me carrying a water bottle with a plastic straw, which she poked between my lips past the bit and squeezed. My mouth flooded with sweet, refreshing, cold water, which I guzzled down gratefully, not caring when it overflowed and ran down my chin to drip onto my overheated body. I appreciated it even more when she pulled the bottle away and squirted the water into my face and then over my breasts.
"Well done, Bright Eyes," she smiled, "let's go again." She disappeared from view and, moments later, I felt the whip against my back and obediently began to walk in circles once more.
We all went through the full routine again, circling around, moving from walk to step to prance, before we were introduced to another command.
"Trot!" Under the prompting of the whip, I moved from a walk to jogging around, completing lap after lap until I began to feel like a long-distance runner. I wondered how much sponsorship money I could raise for charity if I took part in the London Marathon dressed like this!
"Giddyup!" For the first time, the whip smacked really hard against my buttocks and, in startled response, I began to run around the circle. Suddenly, my hoof-boots came together and I tripped, losing my balance. I tried to put out my arms in front of me to stop my fall but, of course, I could do nothing, and I crashed to the ground in a heap. Luckily, the grass was lush and soft, cushioning my fall so that I was merely badly winded, and I lay there gasping for breath.
Chloe came over and helped me back to my feet/hooves, dusted me off and, once I had stopped wheezing, went back to the other end of the rope. Moments later, I felt the whip swipe my buttocks, and I started once again at walking pace.
I soon found out that there was a fourth speed that I had to achieve. After the initial walk, there was the ‘Trot’ at jogging pace, followed by the ‘Canter’, which was the fast jog at which I had fallen previously. But, after a couple of circuits of that, Chloe shouted "Gallop!" and whipped me hard. Now I was flying around the circle, going faster than I felt was safe, but unable to slow down without receiving another painful swat from the training whip.
At last, I was given the command to canter, then trot, walk and, finally, blissfully, to stop. I was panting, literally, like a racehorse, with sweat covering my body and dripping from my hairline into my eyes. My bottom lip and chin were also covered in saliva, which was even dripping down onto my breasts!
As I stood there, trying to recover, I turned and saw the other ponies - I mean girls – Scheherazade, Scarlett and Belle. They were just as exhausted and sweaty as me but, in truth, Scheherazade’s glistening black body looked even more magnificent in that state, with her muscular thighs and buttocks, her super-flat stomach, and her puffy labia split by the white leather strap. I realised I was staring, and I dragged my eyes away in embarrassment, surprised and confused by the strength of my reaction.
I felt the tug of the rope on my bridle and turned to follow my trainer as we formed a line and headed back towards the building where I had been transformed from a fairly independent girl into this strange creature who could be led around on the end of a rope and forced to do things which were certainly not natural for me - I'm quite fit, but I don't go to the gym or anything. Now, here I was taking part in this bizarre fitness programme!
I was following Scheherazade, and I found myself staring, as if mesmerised, at the perfect hemispheres of her buttocks swaying from side to side, swinging the black-haired tail jutting out from between them back and forth. Once again, I had to drag my eyes away as strange feelings began to stir within me.
We were just approaching the building where we had started when we were diverted, and our trainers led us into a fenced paddock. Chloe untied the training rope from my bridle, took the bit out of my mouth, and unclipped my wrists from the straps by my shoulders. As I exercised my jaw in relief, closing my lips for the first time in hours and running my tongue across my teeth to see if any damage had been done (I was relieved to find they were fine), Chloe and the other grooms left the paddock and closed the gate, shutting us inside.
To my surprise, I saw that Belle had not been left in the field but was being led back into the building. I looked around and saw that Scheherazade and Scarlett were still with me, which was reassuring, but I wondered what was happening with our fellow ponygirl. I went over to the gate and examined the fastening, which was quite simple and could have been opened in a moment, if I'd had a hand instead of a hoof at the end of my arm! As it was, we were trapped there until someone let us out, just as securely as if they had used padlocks and chains.
"Neeeyyaaayy!" I heard a whinny, and turned to see Scheherazade standing beside me. She smiled warmly and blew me a kiss, which I found funny, and I smiled back in what I hoped would be seen as a friendly response. I was surprised when she moved closer and, moments later, her body was pressed against mine. I felt the fence behind me and, when the black ponygirl hooked her hand-hooves over the rail on either side of me, I was cornered!
As our sweaty breasts squished together and she lifted her leg to rub her thigh against my hip, I looked up at her in alarm, only to see her lips stretched in a wide smile, with an amused, lustful look in her eyes. I had no idea what was going on or what I should do, and I basically just froze and stood there as she leaned forward, managed to turn her head against the restraint of the collar, and pressed her lips against mine.
I felt her grinding her hips into me as her tongue pushed its way into my unresisting mouth. Despite my girls-only public school upbringing, I had never experienced a lesbian kiss before - was it still a lesbian kiss if we were both ponygirls? I wondered. Her body sliding against mine felt good, she tasted salty and sweet at the same time and, without having taken any conscious decision to reciprocate, I was soon kissing her back with enthusiasm, our tongues wrestling as our mouths opened wider and we began to exchange saliva as well as sweat.
She managed to spread my legs by jamming a knee between my thighs, and pretty soon she had grabbed my leg between hers and was humping it like a dog in heat! I could feel the strap of her harness rubbing on my skin as she moved up and down against me and, as she pressed harder, I could feel the edge of the ring in the strap, the one which, if it was like mine, encircled her clitoris. She was getting herself off by ‘fucking’ my leg!
She began to make small, squeaking noises through her nose and then, as she became more aroused and rubbed herself against me harder and faster, she began to moan, at first into my mouth as we were still locked together in a desperate, passionate kiss and then, when she broke away, into my ear.
Without really thinking about it, I put my foot-hoof onto the bottom rail of the fence behind me, thrusting my knee forward and bringing my thigh up, giving her a much better angle to rub her pussy, and her clitoris, against me. I saw her smile at me in thanks as she put her head back, panting for breath, and pumping my leg even harder. My thigh started to feel warm and wet, and I knew it wasn't just the friction or the sweat that was causing it.
Her moans changed to inarticulate cries and shouts as she finally brought herself to orgasm. Her whole body seemed to shudder, then freeze, then slump in post-orgasmic exhaustion. She kissed me on the lips, on the cheeks, on the eyelids, and on the forehead, before finally disengaging and slumping down onto the grass, her eyes closed and a look of ecstatic bliss on her face. I stood there, looking down at her in stunned bemusement - I had just had my first experience of ponygirl sex! I had to admit that it left me feeling incredibly aroused!
A movement caught my attention, and I looked up to see Scarlett staring back at me, glancing down at the prone girl, her face a mask of confusion, alarm and, I'm pretty sure, disgust. She backed away into the far corner of the paddock, retreating as if I were coming at her with a knife. It looked like the pretty, young redhead would not be interested in joining in any forthcoming pony ‘games’!
Still feeling very horny, but realising that I wasn't going to get any satisfaction from my companions, at least not at the moment, I looked around the paddock and surrounds for some distraction. The paddock was set up in a large grassy field which was bounded on three sides by thick woods and on the other side by the large building where I had been ‘processed’ earlier in the day. The door through which I had originally entered was at one end, and the path leading away from the door went up to the hotel in the distance. On the side of the building facing us were two large, sliding wooden doors, closed at the moment, hiding the interior.
The only other things of interest were two shiny, stainless steel troughs against the fence at the side of the paddock, but they were empty and I didn't pay them much attention. So, all in all, not a lot to look at. The only things of real interest were Scarlett, who had sat down in the corner furthest away from me with her back against the fence and her knees drawn up in front of her protectively, and Scheherazade, who was still lying on the grass, a satisfied grin across her face. I turned away and leaned on the fence, watching the sunset.
Just then, the side door of the building opened, and a very attractive woman stepped out. She was wearing a figure-hugging black cocktail dress and high heels, and her hair and make-up looked perfect. I wondered what she was doing here, when she turned towards us with a smile.
"Good night, ponies," she called out, waving her hand, "see you in the morning!" As she started to walk up the path towards the hotel, it slowly dawned on me that this was Belle - or, at least, the woman who had been Belle. She must have signed up for ‘Sessions’, I reasoned, and was now going off to enjoy the luxury of the hotel. I wondered, rather nervously, what the three of us had to look forward to.
As I watched her walk up the path, I saw another woman, dressed in a stripy chef’s apron, coming the other way. She was carrying a bucket and, rather than going into the building as I had expected, walked up to the paddock, smiling at me as she did so. She went to the side of the paddock and, putting the bucket down on the ground, picked up a hosepipe from the grass. She put the nozzle through the fence and draped it into one of the steel troughs, before turning it on and filling the trough with water.
She turned off the hose and put it back on the ground, then picked up the bucket and emptied it into the other trough.
"Here you go, ponies," she said with a pleasant tone, "dinner is served. Come and get it!" As the woman walked away, whistling to herself, I stared in dismay at the trough, now filled with salad, vegetables, potatoes, pieces of chicken, the odd bit of steak, and God knows what else. So much for Michelin-starred dining, I thought, it looked like we were going to be fed on scraps!
As I just stood there, gazing in disbelief at what we were expected to put up with, Scheherazade crawled over on her hands - I mean her hooves - and knees and, without a moment's hesitation, stuck her head into the trough and began munching away at the food. She started to make appreciative ‘mmmmm’ noises, and I suddenly realised just how hungry I was. Ignoring my feelings of humiliation at being treated like this, I walked over and got down alongside her, sticking my face in and trying to get the food into my mouth with my lips, tongue and teeth.
As I gradually assuaged my hunger pangs, I admitted to myself that, actually, the food was very good. I was enjoying the dressing on the salad, and the bits of meat that I had managed to find and chow down on were beautifully cooked and seasoned. Okay, it was rather humiliating to be eating leftovers out of a trough, but I knew I wasn't going to starve here. In fact, I was soon completely full.
I finally raised my head and noticed that Scheherazade was now looking at me and, as well as the broad smile on her face were bits of food, and her cheeks and chin were slick with oil from the salad dressing. I was sure that I looked just as messy, and I smiled back at her to acknowledge the fact. Moments later, we were laughing as we licked each other clean. We moved away from the trough, allowing Scarlett to move in and get her meal without having to squeeze up against us, which had clearly been the reason she had been hanging back.
My new friend and I shuffled across the paddock on all fours, but it was obvious that the black girl was in a playful mood, and we had only gone a couple of yards, all the time rubbing hips and shoulders, when she deliberately bumped me hard, knocking me onto my back. Before I knew it, she was kneeling over me, not face-to-face, but face-to-crotch! She pushed my legs wide apart and then lowered herself onto me, and we were in the perfect 69 position.
I let out a wail of a surprise as I felt her tongue on my pussy lips, and then her mouth closing around my clitoris, her tongue rolling wetly around on it. Surprise quickly turned to sky-rocketing arousal, and I was soon gasping for breath. My lover shoved her groin into my face as a reminder that there was a quid pro quo required here and, snapping out of my self-absorbed reverie, I went at my job with all the enthusiasm of the keen novice that I was.
The experience was amazing. I had never given or received cunnilingus before, but I had heard whispered stories from other girls of the ecstasy it could bring, and now I believed every word. I was involuntarily bucking my hips as Scheherazade worked on me expertly, while I tried to reciprocate, following her every move. It felt like the outside world had disappeared, and the only sounds I could hear were the ones we were making, the only thing I could see was her glistening body above me, the only sensations those in my loins. Except that those sensations seemed to bespreading across my body, making my skin tingle, becoming super-sensitive, to the point where it seemed that I could feel the grass growing beneath me!
It gradually became clear that Scheherazade was not a beginner at this. Whenever I thought I must surely explode in orgasm, she would back off or transfer her attentions to some slightly less sensitive part of my body - my inner thighs, my lower abdomen, or the skin over my hip bones - and wait until I had come back from the brink before continuing. She also ensured that I didn't make her cum too quickly either, lifting herself away from my eager tongue whenever necessary.
I don't know how long this teasing went on, but I was fit to scream by the time she finally relented and let nature take its course. I think I did scream when I finally came, but luckily my mouth was full of cunt at the time, so I wasn't too noisy. I felt a great sense of achievement when I finally managed to make her reach her orgasm as well, and we rolled apart, lying on the grass exhausted but satisfied.
"Come on you two, time to put you away for the night." I opened my eyes and looked up to see Chloe standing over me. Embarrassed to be discovered like this, and wondering just how long she had been watching, I scrambled to my feet and followed as she took hold of one of the rings on my bridle and led me out of the paddock towards the building. Scheherazade and Scarlett were in front of me, also being led by their grooms.
The sliding doors were now open so that I could see inside, and it was immediately obvious that this was a stable block, the rooms I had seen earlier just a small part of the whole, simply ante-rooms for processing purposes. What I was facing now was a row of stalls, each with a space for a nameplate on the door, but only the first three were labelled with the words "BRIGHT EYES", "SCHEHERAZADE", and "SCARLETT SUNRISE". These were to be our stalls for the duration of our stay.
We were each led into our respective stall. When I entered mine, I saw that it was nothing more than a basic rectangle with wooden sides, the whitewashed brick wall of the building at the back and the gate-like door at the front. There was no furniture or decoration, and the floor was covered with straw rather than carpet. Assuming that I was expected to sleep here, I looked around for a bed, but there was nothing except a pile of clean straw in one corner. They really are treating us like ponies, I thought - so much for 5-star luxury!
While I had been looking around, Chloe had fetched a toothbrush and paste, and she proceeded to clean my teeth for me, before allowing me to sip some water from a plastic beaker to rinse my mouth. I leaned forward to spit into the cup, but instead, she tossed the excess water onto the floor and turned away. With little alternative, I spat onto the floor.
"Good night, Bright Eyes, sleep well." Chloe walked out of the stall and closed the door, sliding a bolt into place on the outside. I went over and checked the door, but it was just as well secured against me being able to open it as the paddock had been. I looked out into the main part of the stables and saw that all three of the stable-maids were leaving and, as the large wooden doors were slid shut, the whole place was cast into gloomy shadow. I heard a noise and looked to my left, where I saw Scheherazade leaning over the gate of her own stall. She smiled, blew me a kiss, and waved a hoof, before moving into the stall, out of my sight. With nothing better to do, I did the same.
It can't have been later than 8 o'clock in the evening, but I was tired from the excitement of the day, the strenuous exercise earlier in the field, and the strenuous sexual activity in the paddock. With no other option presenting itself, I went over and lay down on the straw bed in the corner, making myself a little nest to lie in.
Although it was a little scratchy against my bare skin, the straw was unexpectedly comfortable and I soon found myself dozing off. As I thought back over the day, which had started off on such a sour note with the revelation of Conchita’s deceit, I realised that, to my surprise, I had enjoyed it all - the dressing up, being forced to exercise more than I ever had, my sexual encounter with my sister ponygirl, Scheherazade - it had all been totally amazing.
But the most striking thing had to be the way that Chloe had treated me, not as a customer to be pampered and humoured, but as if I really was just a dumb animal to be controlled, trained and, ultimately, looked after because I couldn't look after myself. That I (or Conchita's dad) was paying good money to be treated like this felt like a huge cosmic joke. I wondered what the next day would bring, what new adventures awaited and, with such happy thoughts, I fell asleep.
End of Part 1
Copyright© 2016 by Jennifer Harrison. All rights reserved.