Pony Girl, Volume 1

by Mark Andrews

  He grinned. “Just wait till you’re galloping around the track with the gig harnessed to you like this,” he said and I sobered. What a thought - but then I thought of Black Beauty and all the other ponies I had seen doing just that and while they certainly showed some signs of pain from time to time, it must have been bearable for I knew the viscount, Sebastian and all the other pony ‘owners’ would never have persevered with such a bizarre method of attaching the gigs to us if any permanent damage was likely.

  Once we were properly harnessed and he and Muscles’ groom had checked both of us, they put on our bridles, including the horrible bits in our mouths, and then led us by them out of the stables and down onto the track. On this first day we weren’t raced. Peter and John, Muscles’ groom simply walked us round and round the track. Getting us used to the horrible dildo up our backsides and me to the other one up my frontal orifice as well.

  Muscles’ gig had the bar he had suggested to Lord de Veere attached to it. This had been made by the viscount’s blacksmith and consisted of a collar the same as my vaginal dildo, that could slide up and down the pole when the screw was undone. From this collar a rod poked up and ended in the curved bar that sat against his belly. They had been careful to push it hard against his stomach for then it would ensure the pole didn’t drop down, even if he had learned to keep the dildo with the additional ball on it inside his anus.

  We walked in line ahead and he was in front so I could see the dildo’s base entering his body between his so pert buttocks. Oh yes, he was going to make a fine first pony for Sebastian and me once we were married and had our own stables, I thought.

  Over the next few days, we learned how to open our anuses to accept the dildos into them and to adjust to the stretching of the anal sphincter and our rectums. I also learned to move with the smaller but still sizeable dildo up my vagina, and then we were ordered to trot every now and then.

  In this way they slowly added to the times we trotted and then Peter had me gallop. It wasn’t easy, as I’m sure you can imagine but I still thrilled as I thought of myself racing in this so bizarre get-up, my breasts flouncing, the muscles of my body writhing and the two dildos working around inside my body.

  With the walking, there had been almost no sexual excitement of my body and neither was there too much with the trotting but when I had adjusted enough to be galloped, I found the movement of the two dildos working on my clit (from both back and front) to be incredible and found I was soon climaxing. I made as if to stop but Peter lashed the reins against my back and shouted at me to keep running.

  I suddenly realised this was why they raced us in this way. They knew how the dildos would excite us female ponies and yet they made us keep running, even while in the throes of a violent orgasm - for they were certainly violent.

  Can you imagine the clit being stimulated from both dildos at once? Well, it does. There is only a thin membrane between the vagina wall and the rectum and both were filled with the knobbly dildos that were designed with this in mind. Almost every step therefore had the tiny sex bud tingling on a high that I had no means of controlling but that wasn’t all. The upper reaches of my love tunnel were also being assailed by the frontal probe as I ran at full tilt around the track and this added immeasurably to the sexual stimulation. In short, I was being excited into a series orgasms that would have me exhausted if I didn’t learn to control them.

  With the other males, the ring around their genitals was tightened to a degree that allowed the blood into their cocks but not too much out and this forced them into an artificial erection - an erection that was giant-sized - far bigger than any natural one they might have been able to achieve. Their penises therefore stood ramrod straight up their bellies, as hard as iron and waved madly from side to side as they charged around the track so you can see both male and female ponies were clear sex objects to the spectators.

  Muscles was a little different. He had no penis or balls of course but the very fact he was a gelding was a sexual thing all of its own and he clearly delighted in his new status and the way he was harnessed to the pole between his legs.

  Once I came to realise all of this I got a double thrill from the Stage Three races and understood how much we all, ponies as well as owners, delighted in them.

  Chapter 7

  Muscles and I both trained very hard.

  Once our bodies were sufficiently conditioned to the two dildos (in my case) and the bar against his belly in his, Peter and John raced us around the track all afternoon and, as I did with all my sporting endeavours, I put my all into it. So did Muscles. We were a good pair and I was really looking forward to taking him into our own stables in a month or so.

  It therefore only took a few weeks before Arthur and Sebastian and the viscount judged us ready to compete. We were entered in a meeting that was going to be held another few weeks away - on a date that would be, almost to the day, six months after I had entered the stables as a human pony and I had said to Sebastian that if I won my race, that would be it. I would be happy to abandon my career as a human pony. He could go on ahead to his cousin’s castle and after I was released from the dog-trailer, we could go back to London together.

  I had delighted in my time as a pony but I knew it was now time to move on. When I told Muscles this, he too was pleased for as soon as Sebastian and I had set up our own estate, he would be coming to us, first as our pony but then as our head trainer.

  Even Arthur Scott was pleased for him and he was usually a rather taciturn fellow.

  But first I had to win my race. This was a matter of pride for me. I had always been a competitor and I wanted to end my career as a racing human pony on a high note. Why I didn’t just opt out there and then I will never know - it would have saved me a huge amount of grief, but I didn’t and there it is ...

  Muscles and I continued to be trained and to put our all into it and so did Black Beauty for he too was going to join us on that fateful day. We were to be the only three entries from the viscount’s stable that day - Muscles and Black Beauty were his own while I of course, belonged (nominally anyway) to Sebastian.

  I thrilled as I watched my fellow competitors charging around the track - yes, I know we weren’t supposed to watch each other but over the course of the last six months I had learned, as had all the other slaves, to look at each other without turning our heads and now I did just that, glorying in Black Beauty’s superb body and Muscles’ smaller but just as beautiful frame, the one a magnificent black stallion, the other a smaller Thai gelding - but both equally as beautiful in my eyes for they were indeed handsome to a tee: Black Beauty in the classical West African way: tall, superbly built with muscles that were so well articulated you could identify each one just about and a skin as soft as black velvet, while Muscles’ body although smaller was just as perfect and his skin that beautiful burnished copper colour most often found in the Thai people.

  On the day the three of us were herded into the larger of the two dog-trailers and off we went.

  All being Stage Three competitors now, our races were all in the afternoon of course but we were interested in watching the early races and of course Muscles and I played up to the crowds as we were supposed to, nuzzling each other and sniffing at each other’s groins as real ponies would (all right I know they sniff at each other’s tails but the analogy was still there, and in any case, yes, we sniffed at each other’s buttocks too).

  My race was first for Muscles and I were both entered in the novice race for Stage Three since this was our first race, while Black Beauty would compete in the final race of the day.

  I am pleased to report I won it. Of course I tried my very hardest. By now I was set on this being my last day as a pony - how little I knew - and I really wanted to win. Accordingly, I went hell-for-leather from the start and by now having learned to control my libido, was able to ignore the orgasms that welled up in me at various stages
as I raced around the track and I quickly took the lead - and kept it. I was pleased as punch to win and, as I said to myself, ‘that caps off my career as a human pony. I am now finished with that life.’

  Sebastian wanted us to go home, there and then but foolishly I demurred, saying I should return to the castle with my two ponies of the day so that I could properly say goodbye to the others, and then he could pick me up afterwards. He just smiled and shrugged and turned away to leave me to be rubbed down in the warm tub and then returned to the paddock.

  The next race was Muscles’ and I watched eagerly, hoping he too would win. He did for he was as much a competitor as I was and his superb body, small and all as it was, sped around that track at the proverbial ninety miles an hour, easily outclassing the competition and he beamed as his owner was presented with his cup (and the cheque).

  Black Beauty also won so the viscount’s stable made a clean sweep of the races we were entered in and then, after Black Beauty was bathed and rubbed down, it was time for us to be loaded into the trailer. I had second thoughts about going with Sebastian there and then but as I turned to call out to him, I saw him getting into his Jaguar. I had left it too late. Well, I thought, no matter. In an hour or so I would be back at the castle and saying goodbye to my pony companions and then on my way back to London.

  I wish!

  It wasn’t to be. About half way home, we felt the vehicle stop. There were some words between Arthur, John and Peter and Black Beauty’s groom and some other men and then I felt the door behind me open.

  I couldn’t see clearly who it was but I did see they were swarthy in appearance and I immediately thought of Prince Azeem - rightly, as it happened. I was dragged backwards out of the trailer and noted we were on one of the side roads that connect various parts of the English countryside. I looked at the estate car that had been pulling us along and saw Arthur and his companions slumped down in the seats. I had a horrible feeling they had been killed but one of the men said they had been drugged and would wake up in a few hours.

  We were roughly manhandled under the muzzles of automatic guns into the back of a small van and there were pushed down onto our bellies on the metal floor while the men secured our thumbs behind our backs with those tiny metal thumb cuffs, locked more of the same cuffs around our big toes and then drew the latter up towards the former, locking the one to the other with padlocks so we were now effectively hogtied, lying down on our bellies on the ribbed metal floor of the van and our arms and legs pulled taut behind our backs.

  Two of the men stayed in the back of the van, sitting on the wheel guards with their weapons never wavering from us while the third drove. We protested of course, demanding to know who they were and why we had been kidnapped. They just smiled - at first - and ignored our constant questions but then they threatened us. At last, when we still wouldn’t be quiet, one of them produced one of those things farmers use on stock - I believe they are called cattle prodders except that this one had been modified for use on humans by replacing the blunt electrodes with carving fork-like tines that had been sharpened to a fine point.

  He thumbed the switch on this and then thrust it first into Black Beauty’s nearest buttock - at which the tall and so magnificent black Adonis screamed and his pinioned body writhed around on the floor while Muscles and I watched in horror. Then he and I were treated to a dose ourselves.

  I have never felt a worse pain. I can say that categorically. I had been caned and even whipped for misdemeanours in the stables but those punishments were chicken feed compared to the slamming, biting, red-hot pain as those live tines dug into my bottom cheek.

  Have you ever had an electric shock? I have. It was something like that. It made my body shake about quite uncontrollably and it felt as if a red hot poker had been shoved into my flesh. It might as well have been. Every muscle in my body went into immediate rigour, totally tensioned so that they all ached abominably for hours afterwards. It left me exhausted and quite unable to protest any more. It also left me extremely fearful of those men - that they might use it on me again. In short, it tamed the three of us instantly so that we now lay on the floor of that speeding vehicle, stark naked still of course, our legs bent backwards and our toes locked to our thumbs, also secured behind our backs.

  But the burning question was Why? I thought of Prince Azeem and wondered if he was indeed behind our kidnapping. He had been at the meeting of course and he had spent a lot of time inspecting the three of us, even complimenting both Lord de Veere and Sebastian on our fine bodies and our prowess as racing ponies. Could he be behind it?

  Of course it was he but we weren’t to find that out, not for quite some time yet.

  The van drove into a building and we heard the roller door rumbling closed behind us after which the back door were opened and our padlocks were removed, as were the cuffs on our big toes allowing us to walk up into the building which looked like an abandoned warehouse or factory. In the middle of the floor were three wooden crates and as I stared at them, I had a sudden horrible feeling that we were, somehow, going to be stuffed into them. At that moment, I couldn’t see how. I thought they were much too small to hold us but no, it was all in the packaging, as they say.

  But first they prepared our bodies. First we were given a dose of salts - and I mean literally. They forced us, under the threat of that dreadful prodder, to gulp down the milky liquid and immediately, I felt my belly churning - a feeling that went almost immediately to my bowels. We were taken into a sort of bathroom and made to squat on the three latrines there until it all came out in an enormous - and very painful rush. Then they gave us another dose of the salts, followed by repeated enemas - huge enemas, until our wastes were crystal clear. Mind you, my belly and bowels felt as if a tank had been driven through them and there was this gnawing feeling as well. I realised my system was now empty - and would remain that way until we got wherever it was we were going ...

  We were taken back to the main room and ordered down onto our bottoms on the floor and of course we obeyed - with alacrity. I think if they had ordered me to jump into a fiery furnace, I might even have obeyed if the alternative was to suffer another of those dreadful shocks - especially as its owner now feinted it towards my vagina. Now the toe cuffs were replaced - we weren’t going anywhere with those nasty little things connecting our big toes together.

  Next they made us draw our knees up to our chests, place our arms on the outside of our thus doubled over legs and our hands down near our ankles, after which they pushed metal rods over our arms and under our knees. We were now trussed very securely in a small bundle.

  The three of them then lifted Black Beauty, who was no mean weight, into the largest crate, two of the men hoisting up the outer ends of the steel rod while the third grabbed his body around the chest. Then they did the same with Muscles. I was last and then the lids were placed on top, loosely at this time.

  The crates were now hoisted up into the van and once more we were off. Upon arrival at our next destination and before they opened the doors of the van, one of the men approached holding a large syringe in his hand. He stared down at me and then jabbed my shoulder with the needle. I watched him do the same to Muscles and Black Beauty and then the covers were put on properly.

  The injections didn’t put us out - they simply stopped us from speaking - or indeed, making any sound at all. I felt the van move again and then sensed it being hoisted out once more. There was a thud as it hit the floor of something - later, when I heard the engines revving, I knew we were in an aeroplane ... In the cargo bay of Prince Azeem’s private Jumbo, to be precise although of course we didn’t know that. The injection had been merely to stop us crying out while the airport and customs authorities inspected the crates prior to loading. No doubt they had been bribed to deter them from too rigorous an inspection but if we had cried out they would have been forced to do something. As it was, we had been struck dumb by
the drug, whatever it was.

  The next few hours were dreadful. Being in the cargo bay, there was no heating although, since the prince regularly kidnapped young athletes from various parts of the world, he had to make sure it was pressurised. Accordingly, we were bitterly cold and I shivered horribly as the cold permeated the wooden crate and hoped to God the journey wasn’t going to be too long.

  Then I felt it getting warmer - and then unbearably hot when the aircraft landed and rolled to a stop.

  The crates were pulled out of the cargo hold and the tops removed. I stared up into the grinning face of Prince Azeem. “Welcome to my country, English pony slaves,” he said ...

  TO BE CONTINUED

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