A Ponygirl Story

A Ponygirl Story

 

By John Brand

 

 

Jane carefully washed the new ponygirl down, avoiding the painful wounds, but making sure they were clean.  She brushed her hair and plaited it into one long strand.  She had had to show the ponygirl the crop before she would let her brush it, but, having been warned, the ponygirl was ready to comply.  Besides, it felt soothing to have her hair brushed.  It was the nicest thing that had happened since this macabre abduction took place.

 

“Why her?” she thought. “And why are they torturing me?”  Then she asked, “What do you mean, ‘I have become a pony”?”

 

“Shhh” Jane replied.  From now on, Jane would only speak to the ponygirl when necessary – when actions and cuts of the whip were not adequate – and she would only tell her what she needed to know.  The ponygirl fell silent and let her hair be brushed.  Jane had also brought some food to eat, but the ponygirl was too upset to eat anything at all.

 

Then, to the ponygirl’s surprise, Jane put a bridle over her head and pushed the bit into her mouth.  Now the ponygirl was unable to talk.  All she could do was make noises that were grunts, moans or pony-like whinnies.  There were blinds on the side of the bridle, so the ponygirl’s field of vision was now restricted.  Jane tried to grab the ponygirl’s arms, but she realised what was about to happen and pulled them away …she tried to get away, but her collar was chained to the wall, and her ankles had been hobbled together the night before, so she was immediately stopped. 

 

Jane showed the ponygirl the riding crop.  Then hit the ponygirl on the back of her leg, twice, three times.  “Don’t!” she ordered. 

 

The ponygirl was in tears again, but Jane took no notice.  She pulled the ponygirl’s arms behind her and slid a single sleeve over them, up above the elbows.  She tightened them.  The ponygirl was now completely helpless.

 

The harness was put over the ponygirl’s head and straps run under her arms and around her breasts, the new leather cutting into her flesh as it was tightened.  Little tinkling bells were hung on the nipple and clit rings.  Then a tail was pushed into her anus.  It felt like it was splitting her apart.  Finally Jane put a pair of knee-high boots onto the ponygirl.  The felt like they were high heeled – at least 6 inches high – but that was just their design.  They were, in fact, shaped like hooves, with no heel at all.  The foot was just held in that position so give a more hoof-like appearance.  And they made a clip-clop noise as the ponygirl moved.

 

At last, all the preparations were complete.  Jane looked at her and smiled.  “You look very good” she said.  In a way, the ponygirl was pleased, but she didn’t know why.

 

Jane left.  The ponygirl could do nothing except wait for the next thing to happen.  She had no idea what that would be.  Meanwhile, she began to feel hungry and her nipples, clit and brand began to hurt again.  She felt wretched.

 

After what seemed an age, Joe appeared.  He was a tall man, strong and rough-looking.  He walked in, ran his hand over the ponygirl’s back and slapped her backside.  The ponygirl moved away, but Joe grabbed the reins of her bridle, and led her outside.  It was a cold English Spring day.  A drizzle was in the air.  It made the ponygirl shiver, but it soothed her pain.  The ponygirl’s steps were unsteady in her new boots.  Joe removed the chains with which she had been hobbled all night and walked her up and down the driveway to get used to them.  The ponygirl looked around …she was acutely conscious that she was naked, and she wondered if she could be seen.  Joe realised what she was thinking, and walked her around the small field they were in.  You can only be seen from the house in this field.  He then took her out of the field and led her down a long footpath. Eventually they came to a country lane. 

 

“This is a public road,” he said.  “You are completely exposed here.”  He took her onto the road and they walked down it for 100 yards, then turned into a gate and eventually came back to where they had begun.  The ponygirl had felt a thrill at being exposed in public and the danger of being seen naked had excited her, but she had also wanted someone to come and rescue her.  No-one had, and Joe had known this.

 

He started walking the ponygirl on a long rein – round and round in circles, for what seemed ages.  The ponygirl was made to lift her knees high at each step – waist height every time.  She was walking very slowly and her legs ached and at times refused to obey her.  When this happened, Joe would strike her with his crop until she started high-stepping properly again.   After the high-step training, Joe made her jog around the field.  As she ran, the bells on her rings tinkled.  The sound humiliated her, and tears fell from her eyes and down her cheeks.  Joe ignored this and made her continue to jog.  Her unsupported breasts rose and fell with her steps.  She was acutely aware of each movement because of the pain in her nipples.  Her pussy throbbed.  Eventually she just stopped and refused to go on.  Joe whipped her once or twice, but she didn’t care.  She was beyond pain.  Joe led her back to her stall, wrapped her blanket over her shoulders and left her, trussed up as he found her.  As he left he patted her and said, “You have done well.  It’ll get better.  You’ll see.”

 

The ponygirl had nothing else to do.  She sank to the ground and drifted away into some kind of nightmarish sleep where Jane and Joe were whipping her mercilessly, while she, as a horse, whinnied and struggled to get away.

 

She was wakened to find Jane removing her harness.  There was some fresh food waiting for her in a tin bowl.  The ponygirl looked at Jane, who nodded, and the ponygirl ate everything in the bowl as if she hadn’t eaten all week.  Now, the ponygirl realised, she was thirsty – very thirsty. She was about to ask Jane for a drink, but Jane anticipated the request and nodded towards a bucket of cold water.

 

“I’m not drink….” She began, but her retort was silenced but a sharp whack of a crop on her thigh.

 

“Don’t talk!”  ordered Jane.  “Ponies can’t speak.”

 

The ponygirl nearly protested that she wasn’t a pony, but she realised that any reply would have painful consequences.  So she went to the bucket and started to lift it.  Jane coughed and frowned.  The ponygirl understood, put the bucket back on the ground, and leant forward to drink from it that way. Jane looked at her, satisfied: soon she would start to believe in her new status in life, as a pony, and then she could be taken out and displayed.  When the ponygirl had finished eating, she was motioned to lie down on the floor.  The ponygirl complied.  Jane took her hands, handcuffed them and linked them to an iron ring behind the ponygirl’s head.  Then she tied each ankle to hooks on the stall walls on either side, and forced the ponygirl’s legs wide apart.  This was Jane’s time to play.  She caressed the ponygirl’s body all over and played gently with her painful nipples.  The ponygirl was shocked at this, and cringed at the touch of another woman.  But she was helpless and Jane was free to do as she wished.  She looked at the clitoral piercing.  This was the most painful of them all, but it looked like it was healing properly.  Jane pressed her fingers inside the ponygirl’s pussy, like Joe had done the day before.  The ponygirl was rigid, but Jane persisted and eventually managed to slide right in and work them inside her.  Despite being sick at the thought of a woman molesting her, Jane was gentle and her fingers were clever.  They knew what they should do, and soon they were sliding over the ponygirl’s g-spot.  At this point, Jane lent over and started licking the ponygirl’s clit.  Now the ponygirl was becoming aroused. 

 

“This mustn’t happen,” she thought.  “I can’t orgasm like this!  There must be something wrong with me if I do!”  Unfortunately, the more she tried to resist the urge to climax, the more inevitable it became that she would.  And the more she resisted, the harder she would cum when she reached orgasm.  And so it was, after a few minutes gentle caressing, licking, biting and teasing, the ponygirl let out a huge moan of joy combined with self-loathing and came hard on Jane’s fingers and into her mouth.  Jane continued to masturbate the ponygirl until she was completely exhausted, and then she lifted her face and kissed the ponygirl full on the mouth.  The ponygirl could taste her own juices on Jane’s tongue.

 

“We must do something about this,” Jane said, looking down at Jane’s pussy.  She released the ponygirl’s arms and legs and made her bring her knees up towards her chest.  Then she tied the each ankle to her wrists and spread her legs wide.  She went away for a few minutes and returned with a bowl and some strips of muslin.  The ponygirl felt a warm gooey liquid being applied to her pussy. She realised she was having her pubic hair waxed, and she tried to put her mind somewhere else so she would not feel the pain or the humiliation.  A few moments later, Jane pressed her finger on the ponygirl’s clit ring, to prevent it being torn out, and ripped away her hair.  It took another application before Jane was completely happy with the ponygirl’s new look.  Jane smile and kissed the freshly-plucked pussy.  Then she got up and untied the ponygirl and then left her alone in her stall.  The ponygirl took stock of the situation.  She had been abducted by people who wanted to turn her into a pony.  She was kept naked in a stall in a barn, with no facilities: she realised that, if she needed to answer a call of nature, she would have to do it in her stall, and Jane would have to clear it out next day.  She had been tortured so that they could attach these bells to her.  They were training her to walk in a stylised way, and they were dressing her up in hooves and harness.  There was no doubt; they were intent on their purpose.

 

They were using a whip to break her will – and she had to admit, they were succeeding.  She would do anything, almost, to avoid receiving another vicious cut of a riding crop.

 

The ponygirl began to wonder how long she would be kept like this: was it just for a little fun, or was it forever?  What would they do to her when they had finished with her? 

 

At this point, her thoughts were interrupted.  Jane came back in, accompanied by another man she had not seen before – young and scruffy – probably a stable lad for the real horses, she thought.

 

Jane and the man looked at the ponygirl.  “Very pretty,” the man said, “What’s her name?”

 

“We haven’t thought of one yet,” said Jane.

 

“I meant her real name.”

 

“Oh.  She left that behind with her old life.  We don’t know and we don’t care.”

 

“Uh huh,” the man grunted, “But I see you’ve had to chastise her,” he added with a chuckle.

 

“Yes,” said Jane, “But she’s a quick learner and co-operates most of the time now.”

 

“That’s good,” said the man.  “That always helps.  Let’s see her dressed up.”

 

With that, the ponygirl’s harness was put on, and, as the ponygirl did not resist, the process was completed very quickly.  Then the man began to adjust the ponygirl’s bit.  Her removed the original bit from the ponygirl’s mouth and took it off the bridle.  He then attached a new one and pushed it back into her mouth.  This time, however, the ponygirl’s mouth was being force wide open and she could not close it at all.  Then she was led out into the yard.  To her horror, there were seven or eight other “stable lads” waiting and they all cheered their appreciation of her looks when she was led out.  The ponygirl’s skin flushed with shame to be forced to parade naked in front of these men for their amusement.  After a few moments, she was forced to her knees.  Slowly it dawned on her why her bit had been changed.  One by one each stable lad came forward.  The ponygirl tried to get away, but she was held firm, and each move she made was answered by a cut from a riding crop.

 

As each lad came forward, he undid himself in front of the ponygirl and thrust his penis into her mouth.  She was face-fucked by all of them.  Some had huge cocks and forced them deep into her throat.  If she gagged, she was cut by the crop.  She quickly learned to control her gagging reaction.  She also learned how to open her throat, to let the dick go down.  And as her mouth and throat became lined with one man after another’s cum, there was enough lubrication to help with the rest.  All the ponygirl could think of while this was happening was, “It’s not fair.  They don’t do this to real ponies.”

 

After the ordeal was over, the stable lads lingered for a while, looking over the ponygirl, touching her, groping her, while she stood and let them, knowing that if she reacted, it would be the worse for her.  Eventually, they all dispersed, leaving her alone with Jane and the first stable lad.

 

“I think they enjoyed that, Jane” said the stable lad.  He passed her a wad of notes, over £100.  Not bad, if divided by eight!  “Now it’s my turn,” he added.

 

“Your freebie, huh?” chuckled Jane.  The ponygirl was led back into the stable and made to face the wall.  Her legs were spread apart with a metal bar.  Then her arms were pulled up and tied to rings placed high up on the wall, so high she was stretching on her toes to reach.

 

“I’ll leave you now,” said Jane.  “Don’t mark her badly or she’ll lose value.”

 

The stable lad chuckled.

 

He bustled around behind the ponygirl’s back.  She tried to look round to see what he was doing.

 

“Face the wall!” he ordered.

 

The ponygirl obeyed.  But the stable lad had become annoyed by her attempt to look at him.  “Bitch!” he shouted, “Don’t ever look at me like that!”

 

The ponygirl felt a searing pain across her buttocks.  Then she heard the crack of a whip.  She was being flogged.  All the time she was being whipped, the stable boy was yelling foul abuse at her.  From time to time, the whipping paused.  The ponygirl heard some grunts and breath intakes, then the flogging resumed.  The lashes were not all painful.  Many missed their mark completely.  But occasionally, one would be so severe that the ponygirl nearly passed out.  She did not cry.  Her pain and suffering were too intense for that.  She shook each time the lash fell.  Eventually they stopped.  The stable lad had been masturbating during the whipping session, edging himself to prolong his enjoyment.  But at last he had cum and stopped.  He wiped his hands on the ponygirl’s hair and left her where she was, semi-suspended and semi conscious.